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By the time the doctor arrives to tell the news, Kant is more than ready to sedate Style and drag his unconscious body out of the hospital. In an hour Style has consumed almost eight large cups of coffee, with Bison having to cut him off before he had to get admitted as well, and has solved a 7x7 Rubik’s cube five times, impressing everyone in the waiting room.
As soon as Style sees a white coat on his periphery he runs over Kant to the doctor with the trepidation and nervousness of a wife awaiting news of her husband in war.
“Is he okay doctor?” Style’s hands are trembling, either because of how concerned he is or due to the amount of caffeine he consumed. Kant thinks it might be a bit of both and the nurse at the reception table has the ER on speed dial.
“The surgery is a success.” The doctor smiles good-naturedly. “Your boyfriend will be fine.” She gives Style’s head a short ruffle. “He is resting now. You can go in and wait for him to wake up.”
Style takes in a breath of relief. “Thank you, aunty.” She gives him a motherly smile and leaves.
“See,” Kant pats Style on the back, feeling the nervous energy through his fingertips. “Appendix removal surgery is not that bad.”
Bison nods encouragingly. “We told you Fadel would be fine.” He gently pries the Rubik’s cube from Style’s grasp. “Why were you so afraid? You know Fadel has survived worse, right? And I stitched him up.” While Bison does think that Style overreacts from time to time, he is happy that Fadel found someone who cares for him a lot.
Setting up Fadel with Style is one of the best things he has ever done. Next to him, Kant sneezes.
“One of my uncles died in surgery.” Style says gravely, fingers scrunching and smoothing out his crop top.
Oh. Now Bison feels bad. “I’m so sorry.” He should say something comforting but his curiosity is beating up his sympathy with a stick. He needs to know. “Was it an appendectomy as well?”
Seeing someone you love go through something that has taken away the life of someone you knew and cared about must have been a harrowing experience. Every time Bison and Fadel had to go on a mission he prays to a God that might have never existed for Fadel’s safety, if not his own.
Style shakes his head, eyes downcast. “It was a root canal.” Kant chokes on his water and the nurse kindly gives him tissues while trying her best to be inconspicuous in her eavesdropping.
“Was it because of the anaesthetic?” It is not unheard of for people to die due to complications in the anaesthesia used during surgery. It might be a genetic thing.
“No.” Style breathes out. “They suffocated him.” Bison has to do a double take.
“What.” Kant chokes on air this time and the nurse does not bother to hide her eavesdropping.
“My aunt told me that it was about time.” Style nods solemnly. “I still miss him.” He perks up. “Can we see Fadel now?”
Kant, Bison, and the nurse look at each other, the nurse giving them a solemn thumbs-up.
--
Fadel looks groggy and if it was not for the IV drip and the heartbeat checker machine – “It is called a patient monitor Bison.” “The janitor has no reason to know these things, Fadel!”– Bison would think Fadel is sleeping.
Bison pulls out his phone and takes a picture. This will make great blackmail material; he cannot wait to use it. Style ignores everything and makes his way to sit on the chair next to Fadel’s bed as Kant slips a hand on Bison’s waist and looks at what Bison is doing on his phone.
“Is this blackmail?”
“No,” Bison’s tone reminds Kant of a smaller Babe when asked if P’Style gave him sweets after dinner. “This is our ticket to go on a date without Fadel looming over us. Do not call it something as crude as blackmail.”
--
Style holds Fadel’s hand as gently as his nerves allow while he waits for the other to wake up. When Fadel does wake up he is faced with the softest interrogation session he has ever been in.
“Are you alright Fadel?” Style’s question strangely coincides with a peak in the readings of the patient monitor, which does not go unnoticed by anyone. Style gives it a worried glance to the and while Kant does think about telling him, he ultimately decides against it, wanting to see how everything unfolds. “Kant, I think we should call the nurse.” Style turns to them and misses Fadel’s indignant look.
Fadel pulls on their joined hands and when Style turns to him, he holds him by the chin. “Look at me.”
Style blushes all the way down his collarbones and nods. “I’m looking.”
“Good.” Fadel does not let go of Style’s chin.
Bison assumes that they must have put him on the good stuff because Fadel would never say such things in public. He now knows more about Fadel’s sex life than he needs to, which is something he never wanted to know about in the first place.
Kant whispers in Bison’s ear, feeling as awkward as his boyfriend. “Should we get the nurse?”
Fadel seems to have heard their conversation because if glares could kill, Kant would be ash.
Bison whispers back to him as he watches his brother look back at Style with what can only be called puppy eyes. “We should just leave them to it.” The reading in the patient monitor spikes up.
(Kant has a feeling abnormal heart rate readings will be more frequent in the near future.)
--
“Fadel you can let go now.” Style tugs the hand holding his chin, but Fadel silently refuses, his strong grip betraying his stubbornness. “I won’t leave you.” Fadel has a petulant air about him, –“He is finally entering his teenage rebel years!” “Bison, he is almost thirty.”–, and Style’s heart melts.
“How about I sit next to you instead, on the bed.” Fadel gives Style a blank look but the pulse rate on the patient monitor spikes up. He looks at their laced hands and gives a small nod.
Style looks at the patient monitor on the side of the bed. He might not know anything about medicine but he is pretty sure that the big spikes in the screen are definitely not good. Fadel’s attention is still on their clasped hands. He has let go of Style’s chin to trace the miniscule gaps in the space formed between Fadel and Style’s interlocked hands, tracing an invisible path.
Style gently nudges Fadel. “I have to go and get the nurse Fadel. They told me to inform them once you are awake.” In response to Style, Fadel tightens his grip. It is painful, but Style does not mind it. If it is from Fadel, Style would not mind anything.
Fadel thoughtfully considers Style’s request. “No.”
“No?”
“..No.”
Style looks at Kant. Kant nods and leaves with Bison in hand.
There is a quiet silence as they sit before Fadel shifts away from Style before tugging his hand insistently. Style looks at the free space and back at Fadel before he realizes. “You want me to sit there?” Fadel gives a curt nod.
Style scootches over and Fadel tries to pull him closer, looking very upset when Style does not budge. “I can’t do that silly. I might aggravate your wound.” He gives a fond pinch to Fadel’s cheek and by the end of the visit Fadel might have to be diagnosed with spontaneous arrhythmia.
Fadel tries to borrow himself into Style’s hand. Style’s hand twitches, if he were to die like this there will be no complaints.
“I will not let you die.” Fadel sounds serious. Kant and Bison enter the room and behind them is the nurse. “I am a hitman. I can protect you.”
Bison freezes. This is how they get found out. Not through their boyfriends betraying them. Not due to buying too many video games and giving the address of their home base. –“They are delivery men, Fadel, not assassins.” “We regularly disguise ourselves as delivery men! How are you not putting two and two together?”– And definitely not by being an incredibly well reviewed restaurant that is actually a front for gay hitmen. Fadel’s admission under the influence of drugs is what is going to get them arrested and tried in the International Court of Justice. Bison thinks that if Kant can disable the hospital cameras then Bison can kill off the staff and everybody else who is inside as well as those affiliated with the hospital, and they might just be able to make it out of here without suspicion. He should also set the place on fire, just to be on the safe side.
Style holds Fadel’s face in one hand, the other held in Fadel’s tight grasp. “Of course you can protect me, my darling hitman.” Style coos at Fadel and the ECG graph is hitting new heights. Thailand might be able to win gold at the next Olympics.
Bison looks at the nurse who looks at the scene in amusement. “Is that normal?”
She nods in amusement. “Sometimes the patients do act like that, it’s the drugs. Don’t worry it is only temporary. One patient thought they were from Konoha and had to sail through the Grand Line.” The nurse smiled reassuringly.
Thank Godwhomightnotexist. “I’m talking about the heart monitor. Is it faulty or something?” Mabe the stress of being an unpaid child soldier is finally getting to Fadel. It is about time that happened. Bison snapped years ago.
The nurse examines the current readings on the patient monitor. “His heartbeat looks fine. If it reaches abnormal high levels the monitor will automatically start beeping so you do not have to worry.” The nurse gives Bison a gentle smile. “It will stop as soon as the heart rate returns to normal. If by chance something does happen, you need to press this button.” There is a red button on top of the patient monitor, a pastel red one. “This will notify the ER.”
Bison gives the nurse his thanks and watches her walk away before turning his attention back to the hospital bed.
--
“-my boyfriend that I will make him his favorite so you need to let me go.” Style says with a laugh and Fadel looks heartbroken.
“You are not single?” He looks and sounds like a kicked puppy.
“Of course not.” Style gives a look of confusion that transitions to worry on seeing Fadel’s upset demeanor. “What’s wrong?”
“You should break up with your boyfriend.” Fadel states in a matter-of-fact manner.
“Why?”
“I can treat you better.”
Style laughs and to Fadel it sounds like life itself. “You can’t treat me better than my boyfriend.”
“Why not? I’m good at things.” Fadel starts to count on his fingers. “I can cook, I can fight, I can kiss very well,” He stares at Style, drinking in every facet of him, his plump lips, his porcelain collarbones, his brandy brown eyes and his tiny waist. Is it as soft as it looks?
Fadel places his hand on it and when Style gives him that bright smile he places his other hand on the opposite end of Style’s waist. His fingers touch and he presses his hands on the waist softly, so as not to blemish the smooth skin. He looks at Style who is now pink in the cheeks, looking very delectable. Fadel absentmindedly licks his lips before speaking again. “And I can give you a ride you won’t forget.”
(“He means his jeep. Right?” Bison is ready to jump off in mortification. Kant’s arm hurts from Bison’s nails digging into him. “Please tell me my brother did not just proposition his boyfriend who he does not recognize.”
Kant gently shakes Bison off. “If it makes you feel better, Style might do the same thing to him.”
It does not make Bison feel better.)
Style laughs. It is a loud happy one, the kind that makes one smile when they hear it. He takes Fadel’s hands from his waist and kisses them. Fadel looks reverent. “You are my boyfriend Fadel. Don’t you remember? I chased after you and everything.”
“…You are my boyfriend?” His voice is small and hopeful, a stark difference from his earlier behavior. Style nods.
The patient monitor starts beeping but Fadel does not move. He looks at Style like… He loves him.
“You are my boyfriend!” Fadel beams. “You love me!” Style nods, too overwhelmed to say anything. He turns to where Bison and Kant are standing. “Bison!” Fadel waves excitedly, like Bison has not been keeping an eye on Fadel the whole time. “The cute guy is my boyfriend!”
Bison is at the balls of his feet. Fadel’s excitement is infectious. “Yeah, he is!”
(Kant blinks. He has never seen Fadel so open before. And Bison looks calm about it, like the whiplash from horny to emotional does not faze him at all. Bison, with the appearance of someone who has achieved Nirvana, takes the scalding coffee from Kant and downs it like a shot.
…Maybe Bison is not doing alright.)
“I- I have something to tell you.” Now the drugs are making him sleepy. He slumps onto Style and mumbles to his chest. He can hear Style’s heartbeat and Style cannot hear the patient monitor anymore.
Style hums in response. Fadel can feel the vibrations rocking him into security like calm waves under a boat “What is it?”
“It is a secret.” Fadel looks up at and places a finger on Style’s lips. “You cannot tell Style. It is a secret.” He emphasizes the last statement by pressing his finger pointedly. Style nods.
“I have a ring in the bottom of my drawer.” Fadel confesses. Style’s eyes go wide. “But you should not tell him. It is a secret.” Fadel borrows himself back into Style’s chest. “It has to be perfect.” Style feels the words in his bones and smiles.
Fadel’s soft snores fill the room. Style tucks Fadel in and kisses him on the forehead. Kant owes him and Bison 200 Baht each.
--
(“Fadel is talking about an engagement ring.” It sounds more like a question.
Kant thinks on it. “Maybe a wedding ring. He sounded serious about it.”
Bison nods. “As long as it is not any other kind of ring.”
Kant is stumped. What other kind of ring is- He gives Bison a look. For someone who is very casual about leaving floggers on dining tables, he is very embarrassed about the notion of his brother having a kinky sex life; Kant tells Bison as such.
“He is my brother.” Bison explains while looking at the heart monitor. It is steady now, with no weird spikes or beeps. “I’m glad he is getting laid how he likes but I don’t want any of the details.”
Kant bumps his shoulder against Bison’s, getting a smile from the other. “It is definitely not what you are thinking about.” Kant thinks back to Bison passionately talking to Kant about purchasing new sex toys that they both would enjoy. He hopes Bison would be just as excited to wear a wedding ring. “He is not you.”
He puts his hand in his pocket and wraps his hand around a velvet box as he faces Bison’s adorable anger.)