Chapter Text
The salt air was thick, heavy with the scent of brine and the dying sunset. On the secluded stretch of sand bordering his childhood beach villa, Bison sat alone. His breath hitched in a quiet, broken sound that competed with the rhythmic lap of the waves.
Behind him, inside the darkened villa, lay Kant. The man was still unconscious, his lungs likely still burning from the seawater he had swallowed. Bison’s mind kept looping the image: the chaotic chase on the boat, the sun reflecting off Kant’s desperate eyes, and the moment Kant had leaped into the sea after Bison’s lethal threats. He had pulled Kant out of the water, not out of mercy, but out of a possessive, agonizing rage. He did panic seeing Kant drown, but also wasn’t done with him yet.
Bison clutched a handful of sand, letting the grains slip through his fingers like the lies Kant had fed him. He felt hollowed out. The pain and hurt were a physical weight in his chest, making every breath a struggle.
Kant, the charming tattoo artist with the nimble fingers and the smirk that made Bison’s heart skip, was a fabrication. He was a former car thief who hadn’t gone straight; he was a pawn for the police, an informant tasked with dismantling Bison’s life and his brother Fadel’s safety. Every touch, every whispered word of affection, and every night spent in each other’s arms was now tainted.
“Did you ever love me?” Bison whispered to the wind, his voice cracking.
He reminisced about the quiet moments at the burger shop, the way Kant would watch him with an intensity that felt like worship. He had trusted Kant with his heart, a heart that had already been hardened by a life of violence and secrets. To have that trust weaponized against him felt worse than a bullet. It was a slow poisoning of the soul.
He began to cry. Not the quiet, dignified tears of a man in mourning, but the heaving, ugly sobs of a man who had been stripped of his only sanctuary. He cried for the life he thought they were building, and he cried for the fool he had been to believe a killer could ever have a happy ending.
The sorrow reached a crescendo, then curdled into a cold, sharp, pure rage. Bison wiped his eyes with the back of his hand, his expression hardening into the mask of an assassin. He reached into the waistband of his pants and pulled out his gun. The matte black metal was cold, a familiar comfort.
He stood up, his boots sinking into the wet sand. He was determined. He would walk into that villa, and he would end the deception. He would kill the man who had broken his heart, because a dead memory was easier to live with than a living lie.
He turned toward the villa, his finger ghosting over the trigger. But as his foot left the sand, the world didn’t move forward.
The sound of the ocean vanished instantly. The dry, sterile scent of floor wax and old paper replaced the humid salt air. The distant, rhythmic ticking of a wall clock silenced the roar of the waves.
Bison stumbled, his equilibrium shattered. He didn’t find himself on the porch of his childhood home. He was standing in the middle of a classroom.
The hallways of Suppalo were bathed in a sickly, ethereal moonlight. Akk moved through the shadows with the practiced silence of a hunter. His heart was a heavy stone in his chest, a weight he had carried since the headmaster had first entrusted him with the preservation of the school’s order.
He was the Head Prefect. He was the shield against the Curse. Tonight, his mission was clear: the rebellious group, ‘The World Remembers,’ had dared to defile the school’s reputation once more. They had created massive, hand-painted banners for their upcoming protest.
Akk reached the bundle of fabric. His hands, usually steady, were trembling. He could hear the headmaster’s voice in his head, a smooth poison: “It is for their own good, Akk. You are the only one who can keep them safe.” He pulled a lighter from his pocket. The flame flickered, a tiny orange spark against the vast, encroaching darkness. He hated doing this. Every fiber of his being screamed that he was destroying something precious, Ayan’s hope, but the burden of responsibility was a collar he couldn’t slip. He leaned in, the heat of the flame inches from the banner.
Before the fire could catch, a hand, rough, scarred, and far too large to belong to a student, clamped around his wrist. The force was overwhelming. Akk was yanked backward with such violence that the lighter flew from his grip, clattering uselessly across the tiles. He didn’t even have time to shout before he was shoved against the cold stone wall, the air driven out of his lungs.
Bison pinned him there, one forearm pressed against Akk’s throat, the other hand gripping Akk’s shoulder with a strength born of years of survival. Bison’s eyes were wild, his breathing heavy.
“Don’t,” Bison growled, the word vibrating with a lethal edge.
Akk gasped for air, his eyes wide with terror and confusion. He looked up at his captor, expecting to see the mocking, beautiful face of Ayan. He expected the playful rebel who flirted with him to distract him.
But the face inches from his own was wrong. The man looked like Ayan, with the same slope of the nose and the same curve of the lips, but he was older. His face was weathered, his eyes held a cold, predatory darkness that Ayan’s never did, and he was dressed in a different way than Ayan usually does.
Akk’s confusion spiked into a defensive reflex. Using a maneuver he’d learned in judo, he shoved Bison away, his chest heaving. “Who are you?” Akk demanded, his voice cracking but regaining its ‘Prefect’ authority. “You aren’t Ayan.”
Bison stumbled back, his boots clicking on the tiles, a sound far too heavy for the school’s quietude. He looked at Akk, and the world seemed to tilt. He saw Kant. But this wasn’t the Kant who had betrayed him. This wasn’t the man who had kissed him with the skill of a seducer and the heart of a spy. This was a boy. A boy in a crisp white shirt, black blazer, and a blue armband.
Bison squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head violently. Wake up, he commanded himself. The salt water got to your brain. You’re still on the boat. You’re hallucinating because of the betrayal. He opened his eyes again, hoping to see the beach villa or the dark sea. Instead, he saw the Suppalo insignia on the wall. He saw the banners he had just saved. He felt the solid, unforgiving stone beneath his feet.
Akk, sensing the stranger’s disorientation, stepped forward. He was in full interrogation mode, his anxiety masked by a veneer of authoritarian aggression.
“Identify yourself!” Akk commanded, his voice echoing through the corridor. “How did you get past the gates? This is a restricted area.
Bison stood still, his heart thudding a frantic rhythm against his ribs. He looked at Akk. He saw the longing and vulnerability hidden behind Akk’s mask, a look he had seen on Kant’s face a thousand times when Kant thought Bison wasn’t looking.
“You’re real,” Bison whispered, the realization hitting him like a physical blow. This wasn’t a dream. “You’re him… but you’re not him.”
Akk frowned, his suspicion deepening. “I am the Head Prefect of Suppalo. You are trespassing. I will ask you one more time: Who are you, and why do you have his face?”
Bison leaned against the opposite wall, his gun feeling absurdly out of place against the ornate wood paneling of the hallway. He watched the boy, this miniature, pristine version of Kant, and felt a wave of nausea. “Bison,” he grunted. He didn’t offer a surname; in his world, a name was a target.
His eyes flickered to the banners on the floor, the ones he had stopped Akk from torching. “Why were you going to burn them?” he asked, his voice low and accusatory.
Akk’s expression hardened, a mask of cold duty sliding back into place. He looked away, his jaw tightening. “That is school business. It doesn’t concern a trespasser. You shouldn’t be here. Just… go away. Leave before I call the security guards and make this a legal matter.”
Bison let out a harsh, dry laugh that sounded like gravel grinding together. “Go away? Kid, I’d give anything to go away. I didn’t exactly buy a ticket to this place.” He rubbed his face, his mind flashing back to the salt air and the betrayal. “A few minutes ago, I was on an island. I was at my family’s villa. I was in the middle of… something.”
Akk’s lip curled into a small, condescending smirk. He was a smart kid, top of his school, and he had dealt with enough rebellious teenagers to recognize what he thought was a blatant lie. “An island? A villa?” Akk mocked, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “You’re spewing nonsense. Look at you, you’re disoriented, your clothes are a mess, and you’re talking about teleporting across the ocean. You should behave like a responsible adult instead of getting drunk and wandering into a school at midnight.”
The mockery was the final straw. Bison had been betrayed by the man he loved, had jumped into the sea, and was now being lectured by a teenager who looked exactly like the man who had broken his heart. The rage he had felt on the beach surged back.
Bison stepped into Akk’s space, his sheer physical presence forcing the boy to back up. “Shut up,” Bison hissed, his voice dangerous. “You know nothing about me. Shut up before I shut you up myself.”
Despite the anger, Bison couldn’t stop staring. He searched Akk’s face for a sign, a mole, a scar, a flicker of the Kant he knew. The resemblance was haunting. It was like looking at a photograph of Kant from a decade ago, before the world had taught him how to lie quite so well.
“Something is off,” Bison muttered, more to himself than to Akk. He took a deep breath, trying to steady the anxiety clawing at his throat. “Look, I’m not drunk. I haven’t lost my mind. I don’t know why I’m here, but I know I don’t belong in this… place.” He looked around at the shadows, the oppressive weight of the school’s atmosphere making him itch for his gun. “I need to get out of here. Soon.”
Akk watched him, his initial arrogance fading into a cautious curiosity. He could see that Bison wasn’t slurring his words; his eyes were sharp, focused, and filled with a very real, very adult kind of pain.
“Fine,” Akk said quietly. “If you’re truly lost, I’ll help you find an exit without alerting the Headmaster. But first…” Akk hesitated, his heart skipping a beat. He looked at Bison’s face again. “Do you… do you have a younger brother? A student here? His name is Ayan.”
Bison frowned, the name ringing no bells. “Ayan? No. I’ve never heard of him.” He shook his head. “I only have one brother. An older one. His name is Fadel.”
Akk’s brow furrowed. The confusion deepened. If this man wasn’t Ayan’s relative, why did he possess that exact same rebellious spark? Why did his face mirror the man Akk was starting to realize he loved?
“No cousins?” Akk pressed. “Anyone related to the school?”
Bison’s expression softened, the anger replaced by a hollow, ancient grief. “I have no idea about cousins,” he said, his voice flat. “I lost my parents when I was a kid. It’s just been Fadel and me since the beginning. We don’t have anyone else.”
The silence that followed was different. The physical tension remained, but it was joined by a sudden, sharp pang of empathy. Akk, who lived a life burdened by the expectations of his parents and the school, felt a rush of pity for the man standing before him. To have no one but a brother, to have lost everything so young, it explained the hardness in Bison’s eyes.
“I’m sorry,” Akk whispered, his ‘Prefect’ persona momentarily crumbling to reveal the soft-hearted boy underneath.
Bison looked at him, surprised by the genuine emotion in the boy’s voice. For a second, the gap between the assassin and the student closed. They were just two people lost in a world of shadows, searching for a face they recognized.
“Look,” Akk whispered, checking the corners for security guards. “You can’t stay here in the halls. It’s not safe for you, and I can’t leave you wandering around. You can stay in my dorm room for the night.”
Bison blinked, surprised by the boy’s sudden shift. “Your room? Won’t that get you in trouble, Prefect?”
“It’s a weekend starting tomorrow,” Akk countered, his voice regained some of its brisk authority. “There are no classes, and most of the staff will be at the main building. We’ll figure out how you got here and how to get you back in the morning. For now, just follow me and keep quiet.”
Bison nodded slowly. He had no other choice. He followed the boy into the small, spartan room that smelled of clean laundry and peppermint. It was a room designed for discipline, not for a man who lived his life in the crosshairs of a scope.
Akk reached into his closet and tossed a single, firm pillow toward Bison. “You’ll have to sleep on the floor. I don’t have a spare bed.”
Bison caught the pillow, looking at the hard linoleum. He was a man used to sleeping in a soft, comfortable bed, and the cold floor of a boy’s dorm felt particularly unwelcoming. Still, he didn’t complain. “Fine.”
As the lights went out, the room became a vacuum of sound. But sleep remained a distant stranger for Bison. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw the beach. He saw Kant’s face as he jumped into the sea. He wondered if Kant was still on that island, if he was looking for him, or if he was already reporting his location to the police. The anxiety and pain were a physical ache, a knot in his stomach that made the floor feel like it was made of stones.
After hours of turning, Bison couldn’t take it. He stood up silently and looked at the bed. Akk was a silhouette under the thin sheets, breathing rhythmically. Driven by a desperate need for the familiarity of that face, Bison quietly climbed onto the other side of the bed, lying down with a vast space between them.
He propped himself up on one elbow, staring at Akk. In the moonlight, the boy looked exactly like Kant, the same sweep of eyelashes, the same curve of the jaw.
“Who are you?” Bison whispered into the dark, his voice a ghost of a sound. “And where the hell am I?”
Moved by a sudden, irrational impulse, Bison reached out. He wanted to touch that face, to see if it was as warm as Kant’s, to see if the skin felt real or if this was all some elaborate psychological torture. His fingertips just barely brushed Akk’s cheek.
Akk stirred in his sleep, his head tilting toward the touch with a soft mumble, unaware of the predator in his bed. Bison’s heart hammered against his ribs. He immediately retracted his hand, his breath hitching. He rolled away, staring at the wall, his mind a chaotic mess of longing and pain.
The morning sun hit the room with a merciless clarity. Akk shifted, his arm flopping over the side of the bed, only to hit something solid and warm. He blinked his eyes open, and for a split second, the world was peaceful. Then, he realized there was a man in his bed. Bison was fast asleep, his hand resting casually on Akk’s torso.
“AH!” Akk let out a strangled cry. Driven by pure panic and a surge of adrenaline, he lashed out with his legs, kicking Bison square in the chest. Bison, whose reflexes were honed by years of surviving ambushes, didn’t just wake up; he reacted. He tumbled off the bed and onto the floor with a thud, but before he had even stopped moving, his hand had dove into his pant pocket. He rolled, came up on one knee, and leveled his handgun directly at Akk.
Akk froze, his hands in the air, his face pale as a sheet. “What, what are you doing? Put that away!”
Bison’s eyes were narrowed, his finger tight on the trigger. He scanned the room, his heart racing, before the fog of sleep cleared and he realized where he was. He wasn’t in a hit zone. He was in a dorm. He saw Akk’s terrified face and felt a surge of guilt.
“Shit,” Bison muttered, clicking the safety on and tucking the gun back into his pocket. “Force of habit.”
Akk was trembling, his voice high with anxiety. “A gun? You have a real gun? Are you a fugitive? You definitely don’t look like a cop!”
Bison stood up, smoothing his messy hair, a dark smirk playing on his lips despite the chaos. “I’m a hitman. A professional. So you might want to watch where you kick next time.”
Akk looked like he was about to faint. “A hitman? I brought a hitman to my dorm? I’m going to be expelled, no, I’m going to prison! Get out! You have to get out right now!”
“I’m trying to leave, but I don’t even know what city this is…” Bison started, but he was cut off by a sharp, rhythmic ding-dong, the doorbell.
Akk’s heart stopped. “Stay silent,” he hissed at Bison, his eyes wide with terror. “Don’t move. Don’t touch anything. If anyone sees you, we’re both dead.”
Akk scrambled to the door, trying to fix his hair and look like he hadn’t just been held at gunpoint by an assassin. He pulled the door open just a crack.
Ayan was standing there, his arms crossed over his chest, a deep frown marring his handsome face. He was dressed for a day out, looking every bit the cool, rebellious student Akk had fallen for.
“A-Ayan,” Akk stammered. “What are you doing here?”
“What am I doing here?” Ayan repeated, his voice laced with annoyance. He pushed the door open, forcing Akk to step back. “I’ve been messaging you for an hour. We decided to go on a date today, remember? It’s the weekend. Why aren’t you ready? And why do you look like you’ve seen a ghost?”
Ayan scanned the room, his eyes narrowing. “Wait… why is the bed such a mess? Akk, were you not alone? Are you cheating on me?”
Akk stood frozen between his boyfriend and the hitman hiding just out of sight, the chaos of his two worlds finally colliding.
“What do you mean? Haha,” Akk managed to reply to Ayan, the laugh sounding brittle and forced even to his own ears. He felt a bead of sweat prickle at his hairline.
Ayan didn’t move. He stood in the center of the room, his eyes scanning the space with the predatory curiosity of a cat. “You are stammering, that’s fishy,” Ayan noted, his voice dropping. He began to walk toward Akk, his slow, deliberate steps forcing Akk to retreat until his shoulder hit the cool, hard surface of the wall.
Ayan hemmed him in, leaning one hand against the wall next to Akk’s head. “It’s nothing,” Akk insisted, trying to keep his voice steady despite the fact that a professional assassin was currently folded like a shadow somewhere in the room. “I overslept since I had rounds to do last night.”
Ayan raised his eyebrows, a playful but sharp skepticism dancing in his dark eyes. “You… you overslept? The head prefect? Do I need to believe that?”
Akk’s eyes darted around the room, the anxiety in his chest reaching a fever pitch. He was terrified that a stray boot or a gun would peek out from behind a curtain. “Yes, why would I lie to you? I was tired. Believe it or not,” Akk replied, his tone sharpening as he tried to walk past Ayan to break the tension.
But Ayan was faster. He reached out, his fingers curling firmly around Akk’s bicep, and pushed him back against the wall. “Not so soon, Prefect,” he whispered, stepping even closer. The space between them vanished. Ayan leaned in, his eyes never leaving Akk’s, his lips hovering just a hair’s breadth away.
Akk’s hand came instinctively to rest on Ayan’s chest, feeling the frantic thrum of his own heart beneath his palm. “What are you doing?” Akk asked, his breath hitching.
Ayan smiled, that slow, crooked smirk that always made Akk feel like he was melting from the inside out. Ayan loved how easily he could make the stoic head prefect flush a deep, gorgeous crimson. He leaned further, tilting his head to seal the gap, but Akk turned his face at the last second.
“I didn’t even brush,” Akk whispered, a desperate attempt at a diversion.
Ayan’s smirk only deepened, his eyes shining with a mix of mischief and genuine love. “I don’t care,” he murmured.
He kissed him. It was a slow, passionate kiss that tasted of morning and Akk. For a moment, the terror of the hitman and the confusion faded into the background. Akk’s resolve crumbled, and he started kissing him back, his fingers curling into the fabric of Ayan’s shirt. Ayan’s hand moved possessively to the back of Akk’s neck, holding him there as if he were the only solid thing in a shifting universe.
Below the bed, pressed against the cold floor, Bison watched the scene unfold through the narrow gap of the bedframe. He lay perfectly still, his breathing shallow, witnessing a version of his own life play out in a minor key.
He rolled his eyes at the teenage drama, but beneath the cynicism, a sharp, cold jealousy sparked inside him. The kid, this Akk, was definitely not the Kant who had betrayed him. This boy was too soft, too earnest. But seeing that face, Kant’s face, tilted back in a haze of pleasure, being kissed by someone, it made something stir painfully in his gut.
He hated it. He fought a visceral, violent urge to crawl out from his hiding spot and yank them both apart. It felt like a sacrilege to see Kant belong to someone else, even if this was a different world. He gripped his own wrist to keep from reaching for his gun, the physical tension of his hiding spot mirroring the emotional turmoil in his head.
Akk and Ayan finally broke apart, both breathless and caught in a hazy, romantic lingering. They stayed in each other’s embrace for a moment, their foreheads touching.
“So what is the plan today? Where are we going?” Ayan asked, his voice low and hopeful.
Akk blinked, the reality of his situation crashing back down on him. He immediately cleared his throat and stepped out of Ayan’s arms, adjusting his shirt. “Actually, I remembered I need to meet Khan. He needs my help.”
Ayan’s face fell instantly. “You must be kidding. Now that you got the kiss, you’re trying to bail on me?”
“What? No… I really have to go,” Akk lied, the guilt gnawing at him. “Why don’t we meet tomorrow? It’s Sunday, and we can go to a movie,” Akk suggested, trying to soften the blow.
“You are really sounding suspicious today,” Ayan said, his eyes narrowing again. “Also, if you’re going to meet Khan, I’ll tag along.”
“No!” Akk cut him off, perhaps too quickly. “I mean… you’re just going to keep distracting me. And we’re going to meet his parents, and you don’t know how to behave. So it’s better if you stay.”
Ayan let out a long, dramatic sigh. “Alright… then let’s meet tomorrow. You better make it up to me.” He leaned in one last time, giving Akk a quick, firm peck on the lips. “See you tomorrow, Bigfoot.”
Ayan winked, that classic rebellious glint in his eye, and finally slipped out the door.
Akk stood frozen until he heard the click of the lock and the sound of Ayan’s footsteps fading down the hall. He let out a massive sigh of relief, his knees nearly buckling. He turned back to the room, his voice a frantic whisper. “Where are you?”
Bison slowly crawled out from beneath the bed, his movements fluid and silent like a predator. He stood up, brushing the dust from his shirt, his expression unreadable.
“You got a boyfriend?” Bison asked, his voice dry.
“None of your business,” Akk retorted, his face still flushed from the kiss and the panic. He crossed his arms, trying to regain his ‘Prefect’ stance. “Also, you need to tell me honestly. What is a hitman doing in the school?”
Bison shook his head, looking toward the window where the sun was shining too brightly. “That’s exactly what I’m trying to figure out.”
Akk looked at Bison, taking in the cold, professional stance. “What is your plan?” He asked, his voice low. He was already calculating the risks of being seen with a stranger, especially one who carried a lethal aura like a second skin.
Bison paced the small room, his eyes scanning the dormitory with a restless intensity. “I need to check something. Can you take me out?”
“Sure,” Akk agreed, though the word felt heavy in his mouth. He stepped toward Bison, his expression hardening into the ‘Prefect’ mask he used to intimidate younger students. “But, promise me, you will not cause me any problems. I cannot afford mistakes. I’m a prefect, and I have a reputation to hold.”
Bison let out a short, mocking breath. “Sure, Mr. Prefect,” he huffed.
Akk ignored the sarcasm and walked toward his wardrobe. He knew he couldn’t just walk a man dressed for a gunfight through the front gates of Suppalo. He opened the doors and rummaged through the neatly folded clothes until he found a specific garment, a black hoodie that didn’t quite fit the school’s aesthetic. “We need to be careful. I cannot take you while you look like this.”
He tossed the black hoodie to Bison. “Wear this. It’s Ayan’s. It should fit you.”
Bison caught the fabric. It was soft, smelling faintly of the same cologne Ayan had been wearing. He checked the size and nodded.
“Also, are you going to bring your gun with you?” Akk asked, his eyes fixed on the pocket where the weapon was hidden.
“Yes,” Bison replied without hesitation, his tone final. “I’m not going anywhere without it.”
Bison pulled the hood over his head, adjusting it in the small vanity mirror on the wall. Akk stood stunned, his breath hitching in his throat. The sight of Bison in Ayan’s clothes was a visceral shock to his system.
“You… look exactly like him, now that you are wearing this,” Akk whispered, his voice trembling with a mix of awe and anxiety. “Are you sure Ayan is not your brother?”
Bison rolled his eyes, the irritation flashing across his face. “I told you, I don’t know anyone called Ayan.”
“You don’t understand,” Akk insisted. He felt a desperate need to prove the impossibility of the situation. He grabbed his phone from the desk, unlocked it, and pulled up a photo from his gallery, a picture of him and Ayan sitting on the school steps, laughing. He thrust the phone toward Bison.
Bison took the device. As his eyes fell on the screen, his breath stopped. His pupils dilated in a moment of pure, unadulterated shock. The boy in the photo, the one with the messy hair and the defiant grin, was him. Not a relative. Not a twin. It was his own face, younger and unscarred, looking back at him from a world of sunlight.
“He is… Ayan?” Bison’s voice was barely a whisper.
Akk nodded, his face pale. Bison stared at the photo, his mind spinning. He had always been a man who looked at the stars, fascinated by the constellations and the vast, orderly mechanics of how the universe worked. He had spent nights wondering if the stars were the same in every corner of the sky. But standing here, in front of a boy who looked exactly like the man he loved, and staring at a photo of his own face on a different person, it gave him chills.
The theory he had read once in a book on quantum physics, about the ‘Matrix’ and the possibility of parallel universes, began to knit together in his mind. It’s not just a theory, he realized.
“I see you are speechless,” Akk said, cutting through Bison’s spiraling thoughts. “If you are not related to him, then what on earth is going on? I’ve heard that seven people in the world can have similar facial features. But you both look like identical twins.”
Bison looked back at the photo of Ayan. The shock was still there, but his natural bravado began to leak back in, a defense mechanism against the sheer terror of the unknown. He traced the jawline of the boy in the picture.
“That’s true,” Bison said, a small, dark smirk playing on his lips. He looked at Akk through the mirror. “But I look better than him. Don’t you think?”
Akk didn’t even pause. “No,” he blurted out, his loyalty to Ayan surfacing before he could filter it.
Bison rolled his eyes, handing the phone back. “Whatever. Your taste is clearly good.” He pulled the hood tighter, his face disappearing into the shadows. “Now, let’s go. I’ve wasted enough time.”
Akk grabbed his bag, his heart still hammering against his ribs. The physical tension of the room had shifted into a frantic, kinetic energy. “Tell me where we are going first,” Akk asked, his hand on the door handle.
Bison didn’t have to think. His mind was occupied by only one person, the man he had left on the beach, the man whose face he saw every time he looked at Akk. If this were a parallel world, there had to be a parallel Kant. And he knew exactly where a man like Kant would spend his time.
“Ever been to a tattoo parlor?” Bison asked, his eyes flashing with a sharp, desperate hope.
The sun hung high over the city, casting a relentless glare that felt too bright, too sterile, for the storm brewing inside Bison. He moved through the streets of Bangkok with a frantic, rhythmic pace, his hood pulled low. Beside him, Akk struggled to keep up, his eyes darting nervously to every passing police patrol. To Akk, this was a reckless excursion with a stranger; to Bison, this was a desperate race to find a tether to his own existence.
They arrived at the corner where the familiar sign of Kant’s tattoo parlor should have been humming, the place where the scent of antiseptic and the buzz of needles usually acted as the backdrop to their complicated romance. Bison stopped short, his breath hitching in his throat.
Instead of the dark, edgy aesthetic of the parlor, he was staring at a quaint, wood-paneled storefront with large glass windows displaying neatly stacked rows of books. A sign above the door read ‘The Quiet Corner Bookstore’.
“This is wrong,” Bison whispered, his heart hammering against his ribs. The confusion was a physical weight. He had hoped that if he came here, he would find a clue, a version of Kant, a familiar face, anything to anchor him. Instead, more questions hit him like a barrage of stones.
He pushed the door open, the bell chiming with a cheerful clarity that felt like a mockery. He strode to the small reception desk where a lady in her late thirties sat, peering over a pair of reading glasses.
“May I help you?” she asked, her voice soft and professional.
“I’m looking for a tattoo parlor,” Bison blurted out, his voice rough with anxiety. “It was supposed to be here. Right at this address.”
The lady raised her eyebrows, looking Bison up and down, taking in the oversized black hoodie and the intense, haunted look in his eyes. “I think you might be at the wrong address,” she said gently.
“But I’m sure!” Bison cut her off, leaning over the desk. “It has to be here. A man named Kant… he runs a shop here.”
The lady offered a sympathetic but firm smile. “My dad has been the owner of this bookshop for the past 30 years. And now I’m looking after it. So, yes, there is no tattoo parlor here. And I don’t think there is one in this street at all.”
Bison stood frozen. The world seemed to tilt on its axis. Thirty years. If this shop had been here for thirty years, then in this world, Kant’s parlor never existed. The place where they had shared their charged glances and intimacy, where Kant had inked his skin while plotting his betrayal, was a phantom.
Behind him, Akk looked puzzled, his gaze shifting between the rows of books and the distraught man in front of him. He reached out, tentatively touching Bison’s sleeve. “Bison… let’s go.”
They walked out of the bookstore, the heat of the sidewalk hitting them like a wave. Bison didn’t stop. He couldn’t. “We still need to check a few more places,” he whispered.
A few minutes later, they stood in front of the lot where Bison and Fadel’s burger shop, their sanctuary, their base of operations, was supposed to stand. Instead of the smell of grilled meat and the sound of Fadel’s boisterous laughter, they found a sleek, modern coffee shop filled with students and regulars.
Looking at Bison’s bewildered face, Akk asked softly, “Are you sure this is the place?”
Bison felt his knees go weak. He looked at the street signs, the landmarks, and the distance from the intersection. “I’m not sure anymore,” he rasped.
Their final destination was the house where he and Fadel lived. Bison led the way with a fading hope that was rapidly turning into pain. But when they arrived, the house that was built in that place looked entirely different. The architecture was modern and cold, and the nameplate at the entrance bore a family name Bison had never heard of.
“Everything is different,” Bison said, his voice cracking. He slumped against a lamppost, the hurt of the betrayal at the beach now compounded by the terror of being erased. “I don’t know what to do.”
Suddenly, a thought crossed his mind, a last-ditch effort to find a logical explanation. “Give me your phone,” Bison demanded, extending a trembling hand. Akk handed over his phone without a word, his expression one of deep pity.
Bison’s fingers flew across the screen. He searched for his parents’ names. He searched for the news of their murder, the traumatic event that had defined his and Fadel’s lives, turning them into killers. He scrolled through page after page of search results. Nothing.
The news didn’t exist. There was no record of a double homicide involving his family. He searched for their family villa on the island, the place where he had just been, where he had kidnapped Kant. The island existed on the map, but it was listed as a bustling tourist spot, filled with luxury resorts and public beaches. There was no private villa, no secluded childhood home.
Bison felt his head reeling. The romantic physical tension he usually felt when thinking of Kant was replaced by a cold, hollow dread. Am I really in a different universe? He looked around at the city. This Bangkok looked exactly like the one he had lived in his entire life. There were no exaggerated high-rise buildings, no flying cars, or futuristic technology like the movies portrayed. The traffic was just as bad, the humidity just as stifling, the street food stalls just as vibrant. It looked identical, but the people who filled it, his family, his enemies, his Kant, were missing.
He was a ghost in a world that looked like home but had no room for him. He stood in the middle of the sidewalk, a hitman with a gun in his pocket and a heart full of longing, realizing he had no idea how to go back to his home, to the Kant who had betrayed him, but who was at least real.
“I’m lost,” Bison whispered, looking at Akk with a raw vulnerability that made the young prefect flinch. “I’m really, truly lost.”
The urban noise of Bangkok faded into a rhythmic, melancholic drone as Akk led Bison away from the shifting phantoms of the city. He could see Bison spiraling, his movements becoming erratic, his gaze unfocused as the reality of his erasure settled over him. Seeking a place of stability, Akk led him toward a secluded stretch of the coastline, far from the tourist-heavy beaches.
They sat on the cooling sand, the expanse of the Gulf of Thailand stretching before them like a vast, unreadable mirror. Bison sat with his knees pulled to his chest, having removed the black hoodie and placed it across his lap. In the fading light, with his hair tousled by the sea breeze and his profile sharp against the horizon, he looked every inch like Ayan.
Akk stared at him, his heart racing with a dizzying sense of déjà vu. Being here, on a beach at dusk with this face, pulled a specific memory from the depths of his mind. He remembered the night Ayan had confronted him on the beach, the night the eclipse curse had been laid bare. Akk had been so desperate to uphold the rules, so brainwashed by the Headmaster’s expectations, that he had been secretly creating the very curse that terrorized the students.
That night had been the most vulnerable and most understood moment he had ever felt in his life. Ayan hadn’t judged him; he hadn’t accused him of being a monster. Instead, Ayan had looked into Akk’s soul and tried to understand the fear that drove him, opening his eyes to how wrong it was to hurt others in the name of order.
Suddenly, Akk felt a crushing wave of guilt. By nearly burning those banners last night, he had been repeating his mistake. He had almost broken his promise to Ayan to be better, to be honest. He looked at Bison, and a new realization dawned on him. He felt truly thankful toward this stranger. Bison had stopped him from committing a crime against his own conscience. Helping Bison wasn’t just a courtesy; it was a debt he needed to repay.
“Are you okay?” Akk asked softly.
Bison didn’t answer. He was completely lost in thought, his eyes fixed on the white foam of the waves as if searching for a doorway back to his brother, back to his shop, back to his life.
Seeking to ground him, Akk reached out and placed his hand on Bison’s shoulder. The contact was electric. Bison reacted immediately, his head snapping around. For a fleeting, agonizing moment, the distance between universes collapsed. Bison looked at Akk, the sharp jaw, the steady gaze, the familiar warmth of the hand, and he felt Kant was right there, sitting next to him on the beach.
“Kant…” Bison whispered, the name escaping him like a prayer.
Akk looked at him, confused by the unfamiliar name, but he didn’t say anything. The raw pain in Bison’s voice was enough to keep Akk silent. Slowly, as if moving through water, Bison leaned in and wrapped his arms around Akk, pulling him into a tight, desperate hug.
Akk’s body went rigid. His immediate reflex was to push Bison away, to defend his space, to uphold the boundaries of a prefect. But he couldn’t. As he looked over Bison’s shoulder at the darkening sky, he saw a reflection of Ayan in this man. He remembered the way Ayan used to look at him when he was hurt, like he was carrying something heavy within him.
Akk’s heart ached just thinking about it. Here was a man who looked exactly like the person he loved, and he was on the verge of total emotional collapse. Akk realized he could repay the man who saved his soul last night by being by his side now. He didn’t know anything about Bison’s world, and Akk had never been good with words, always preferring rules to conversation, but at the very least, he could embrace this stranger and make him feel less alone.
He slowly moved his hand, overcoming his hesitation, and patted Bison’s back in a slow, steady rhythm, hoping it would make Bison feel better.
After a long moment, Bison slowly leaned back. He looked at Akk, still, seeing the ghost of Kant in the boy’s features, as the sky slowly started to become dark, turning a deep, bruised violet.
Akk stared back, his voice barely a whisper against the sound of the tide. “Are you okay?”
Bison let out a dry, hollow laugh that didn’t reach his eyes. He turned his head back toward the waves, the salt air stinging his lungs. “I don’t know,” he said. “Before I showed up at your school, I was actually sitting on the beach just like this. Heartbroken and crying like a fool.”
Akk shifted closer, the physical tension between them softening into a shared, quiet melancholy. “Can you tell me what happened?”
Bison was silent for a long time, the shadows lengthening over the sand. “I was betrayed,” he finally said, his voice hard. “By the one person I fell in love with for the first time in my life.”
He looked at Akk, his eyes reflecting the first few stars appearing in the sky. “He was everything I wasn’t. Or so I thought. I gave him my trust, my love… I gave him a version of me that I didn’t even know existed.”
Akk listened, his heart heavy. He thought of his own secrets, of the way he had hidden his true self from Ayan for so long.
The darkness had fully claimed the beach, leaving only the white foam of the tide to catch the faint starlight. The air was colder now, biting through the thin fabric of their clothes, but the atmosphere between Akk and Bison was heavy with a different kind of chill, the weight of a life built on blood and secrets.
Bison stared out at the dark horizon, his voice dropping into a hollow, rhythmic cadence. “My brother and I are hitmen,” he began, the confession sounding strangely clinical. “Our parents were killed when we were kids, and later we were adopted by a woman we loved like a mother.” A small, sad smile ghosted across his lips, the fleeting ghost of a warmth long since traded for steel. “She trained us to be assassins. Fadel and I never trusted anyone other than ourselves.”
He paused, the longing for that guarded safety clear in the way his jaw tightened. “Even after Fadel warned me many times, I ignored him and trusted Kant. I gave him my heart.”
Akk sat perfectly still. Hearing of a life defined by professional killing was like listening to a dark fairy tale, but the pain in Bison’s voice was a language Akk spoke fluently. “What did he do?” Akk asked, his voice barely a whisper.
Bison’s hands curled into fists in the sand. “He’s a spy. He’s been working with the police to snitch on us. I found out when I followed him. I couldn't believe it…but it is the truth. I just wanted to disappear.” He looked at Akk, his eyes shimmering with a dangerous, unstable light. “But why should I? It was he who betrayed me. He should be the one to disappear, not me.”
Bison felt the pure rage and the searing ache of betrayal course through his veins, a fire that threatened to consume the quiet of the beach.
Akk watched the man beside him. He saw the shaking hands and the white knuckles. Driven by an instinct learned from Ayan, Akk slowly reached out and held Bison’s hand, trying to anchor him.
“Are you sure he betrayed you?” Akk asked, his voice calm and steady.
The question hit Bison like a physical blow. He jerked his head toward Akk, his eyes wider than they had been all day. In a violent, reflexive motion, he ripped his hand away, his face contorting.
“He works with the police! He’s a snitch!” Bison screamed, the sound tearing through the silence of the beach. It was a raw release of the pain and hurt he had been suffocating since he found the truth. “How much more of a betrayal do you need?”
Akk sat stunned by the volume of Bison’s reaction. He stared back, eyes wide in shock at the hitman’s volatility. But Akk didn’t stop. He knew what it was like to be trapped in a lie.
“I’m not talking about his job,” Akk said softly. “I’m talking about his eyes. Did you see bitterness in them when he was with you? Or did you see love?”
Bison froze. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, when he looked at you, was he a spy, or was he just a man in love?”
Bison stammered, his defense mechanisms failing. The question forced him back to memories he had tried to burn. He saw the way Kant looked at him, the softening of his gaze, the heat behind the confessions, the whispered promises that seemed so impossible yet so real. He felt the phantom sensation of Kant’s touch, the weight of his body against his own. In those moments, nothing felt like a mission. Everything felt true.
He hadn’t seen a single spark of bitterness, not until the cold reality of seeing him talking to the police that night.
Seeing Bison lost in the wreckage of his thoughts, Akk offered up his own shame as a bridge.
“I almost destroyed my boyfriend’s trust last night,” Akk confessed.
He continued, his lips trembling. “I promised him I’d stop being the person the school wanted me to be. I promised I’d be better. But last night… I went back to the old ways. I was committing a crime against the truth.” He looked down at his lap, the guilt evident in his slumped shoulders.
“I broke his promise, and the guilt has been eating me alive since then. This morning, I couldn’t even look him in the eye… but he’s so good to me. He sweeps me off my feet and makes me feel like I’m worth something, and my cowardly self couldn’t help but lean into it.”
Akk looked at Bison, his eyes filling with a tragic, piercing light. “I love him with everything I have, but I’m terrified. I haven’t even told him I love him because I’m scared I’ll eventually hurt him. He tells me to put myself first, to find my own path, but I don’t know how yet. I’m still learning.”
He took a shaky breath. “So maybe you should ask Kant. Give him a chance to explain why he did it.” Akk paused, staring at Bison, who was now utterly still. A single tear escaped Bison’s eye.
He took a shaky breath, his voice dropping to a whisper. “So maybe… maybe you should give Kant a chance to explain. Maybe, just like me, he’s a coward who’s hiding behind a mask because he doesn’t know how to choose himself. Maybe he’s leaning on you because he loves you, but he’s absolutely terrified of hurting you.”
The wall Bison had built around his heart finally collapsed. The logic of the ‘Prefect’ had reached the soul of the ‘Assassin.’ Bison started sobbing. It was a deep, soul-shattering release. His body shook with the force of it. Akk didn’t move away. He simply leaned in and held Bison in his arms.
As Bison cried into Akk’s shoulder, they sat bound by a singular truth: across any universe, love was the only thing that made cowards brave, and the only thing that could make a brave man a coward.
The walk back to the dormitory was conducted in a heavy, contemplative silence. The lights of the city seemed dimmer now, as if the world itself was losing its saturation. When they finally entered the room, it was already late at night. Bison, drained of his adrenaline and filled with a hollow ache, slumped onto the bed. He was still wearing Ayan’s black hoodie, the fabric smelling of a life he didn’t own.
Akk sat next to him on the edge of the mattress, his hands clasped tightly in his lap. He looked at Bison, seeing the wreckage of a man who had been a warrior only hours before. “So, what are we gonna do now?” Akk asked softly.
Bison didn’t have an answer. He just stared at the ceiling, watching the shadows of the ceiling fan rotate like the hands of a broken clock. He was a man out of time, out of place, and out of hope.
Then, the sudden, sharp chime of the doorbell sliced through the room. Akk froze. His heart leaped into his throat. He wasn’t expecting anyone at this hour, and the fear of being caught with a ghost sent a jolt of pure anxiety through him. He immediately gestured wildly for Bison to hide. Bison, moved by a sudden protective instinct for the boy, slipped into the large wooden wardrobe, pulling the slatted doors shut.
Akk smoothed his hair, took a shaky breath, and opened the door. Ayan stood there. He looked exhausted, his hair messy, his eyes rimmed with a frustration that bordered on despair.
“Ayee, what are you doing here?” Akk asked, his voice high and nervous.
Ayan didn’t reply immediately. He just looked at Akk, let out a heavy sigh as if he were simmering with a quiet, dangerous madness, and walked past him into the room. Akk followed, his pulse thrumming in his ears. “Ayee, what’s going on? Are you okay?” Akk reached for Ayan’s hand, seeking the grounding heat of his touch.
But Ayan pulled back sharply, spinning around to face Akk. The air in the room turned cold. “You tell me, what’s going on?” Ayan asked, his voice rough.
“What do you mean?”
“Where were you, Akk?” Ayan shouted, his temper finally snapping. The volume of his voice made Akk flinch. “I’ve been trying to reach you since the evening, but you didn’t respond to any of my messages! And when I called you, your phone was switched off!”
Ayan was breathing fast, his chest heaving with the weight of his worry. Akk immediately fumbled in his pants pocket and pulled out his phone. The screen was black. “Ayee, I’m sorry. I didn’t see it. I’m really sorry for worrying you,” Akk pleaded, taking a step forward.
But Ayan wasn’t having it. The pain and hurt in his gaze were a physical barrier. “I called Khan,” Ayan said, his voice dropping into a deadly, disappointed quiet. “Because I couldn’t reach you. And he told me you weren’t with him today.” Ayan let out a long, weary sigh. “Seems like you never had a plan with him at all.”
Akk stood rooted to the ground. His lies were splayed open, naked and ugly in the middle of the room. But more than the shame of being caught, it was the look in Ayan’s eyes, the genuine betrayal, that made the guilt drip from him like acid.
“Ayee, I’m sorry,” Akk whispered.
“Where were you?” Ayan pressed, his voice rising again. “Did you go to meet Chadok? Did he ask you to bring back the curse? What did you say? Are you planning to do it?” Ayan was visibly boiling. The idea that Akk was slipping back into the role of the Headmaster’s puppet, the ‘Enforcer’ of Suppalo, was more than Ayan could bear. “Tell me!” he screamed.
Akk stood there, his head bowed. His eyes started to tear up, not because of Ayan’s anger, but because of the truth. He remembered the meeting with Chadok after school last evening. The Headmaster’s threats about his scholarship, the looming disappointment of his parents, had triggered the deepest fear in Akk’s soul. He couldn’t bear to see his loved ones hurt or disappointed because of him. That desperate need to protect his future had driven him mad, making him feel he had no choice but to bring back the curse. And in his desperation to protect those he loved, he had ended up hurting the one person who truly knew him.
“I’m sorry,” Akk repeated, his voice breaking.
Ayan reached out, grabbing Akk by the collar of his shirt, pulling him close until their faces were inches apart. “Look at me! You promised me, didn’t you?”
Akk started sobbing. His legs began to shake. Ayan was right, Akk had been a coward. He had let the system back into his head. The weight of the world, the school rules, and the fear of failure crashed down on him all at once. Akk let out a painful cry, his legs finally giving out. He collapsed onto the floor, his body curling inward.
Seeing Akk in such pain, Ayan’s anger vanished instantly, replaced by a fierce, protective love. He slumped to the floor, pulling Akk into his arms. “Akk, it’s okay. Look at me, please…” Ayan begged.
But Akk refused. He was too ashamed to look into the eyes of the boy he had failed. He shook his head, burying his face in Ayan’s chest, trying to hide from the light. Ayan wouldn’t let him. He held Akk’s face with both hands, gently but firmly forcing him to look up.
“Akk, I know he’s been blackmailing you,” Ayan whispered, his own tears beginning to fall. “I know what you are going through. Carrying all this burden by yourself, unable to share it with your parents or your friends. I know you don’t want anyone to get hurt… but look at you. You are hurting yourself.”
Akk’s body shuddered with every sob.
“You don’t have to do it anymore,” Ayan promised. “You have me. Please let me in. Please let me help you.”
Akk clung to Ayan’s shirt, the dam finally breaking. Ayan held him tight, rocking him slightly. “You are not alone anymore, Akk. Please don’t keep hurting yourself. I love you, and so do your parents and friends. They love you no matter what. Please let go of these shitty school rules and put yourself first. Please… love yourself.”
Ayan leaned back, looking at the mess of a boy in his arms. Akk’s eyes were red, his face tear-stained, but for the first time in days, the tension was leaving his shoulders. Ayan wiped the tears from Akk’s cheeks with his thumbs and whispered the words that had been the anchor of their lives.
“I love you, Akk.”
He leaned in, kissing Akk’s forehead, then his cheeks, his chin, his nose, and finally, his lips. It was a kiss of forgiveness, of healing, and of absolute devotion. He pulled Akk back into a tight hug, and slowly, Akk’s breathing leveled out. He began to calm down in the safety of Ayan’s love.
Inside the dark, cramped space of the wardrobe, Bison stood frozen. He was holding his mouth with his hand, his fingers pressing hard against his lips to stifle the sound of his own breathing.
He had heard everything. Every scream, every sob, every confession of love. He couldn’t help but cry. The tears ran silently down his face, soaking into the fabric of Ayan’s hoodie. His thoughts spiraled across the void of the universe toward Kant. His Kant. The man who had always been there, who had embraced him and held him even when the world was falling apart.
He thought of Kant’s eyes, the ones Akk had asked him to remember. He realized that Kant, much like Akk, was likely carrying a burden he felt he couldn’t share. Kant, who was trapped between his duty to the police and his love for an assassin.
Akk’s words from the beach replayed in his mind like a haunting melody: “Maybe, just like me, he is also a coward who couldn’t put himself first and is hiding behind that mask. And leaning onto you, because he loves you but is scared of hurting you.”
In the darkness of the wardrobe, Bison finally understood. The betrayal wasn’t about a lack of love. It was about a man who was so scared of the world that he had forgotten how to be brave for himself. Bison closed his eyes, his heart breaking and mending at the same time, desperate to find his way back to the coward who held his heart.
As he listened to the muffled sounds of Ayan comforting Akk in the room outside, the walls of his own heart began to crack. The pieces of the puzzle he had ignored, the small, fractured stories Kant had shared during their quietest hours, began to assemble.
Bison remembered the way Kant’s voice would drop when he talked about his childhood. Kant had always held back, showing only his stronger side, the charming rogue who could handle anything. But Bison remembered the slips: the mention of the accident that claimed Kant’s parents, and the deep-seated trauma Kant had with open water because of it. He remembered the confession of how Kant had become a car thief, not out of greed, but out of a desperate, grinding need to support his younger brother and give him a life that wasn’t defined by poverty or tragedy.
He could see the resemblance now. Kant and Akk were mirrors of the same soul. Both had been pushed to take on staggering responsibilities at a young age. Both had carried their pain in silence, trapped in systems, one legal, one criminal, that demanded they sacrifice their own happiness for the sake of others.
Akk had found Ayan to pull him from the depths. But Kant, Kant was still struggling by himself. He was the coward hiding behind a mask because he didn’t think he was allowed to be anything else.
Bison realized with a jolt of soul-deep clarity that Kant didn’t just need a lover; he needed a partner to help him survive the pain. They needed each other to find a version of happiness that wasn’t a lie. The urge to see Kant, the real Kant, in his own world, surged through Bison like a physical fever. He couldn’t hold back his tears anymore. He shut his eyes tight in the darkness of the wardrobe, praying to the universe, to the stars, to take him back.
“Take me home,” he whispered. “Take me back to him.”
In a matter of seconds, the smell of peppermint and floor wax vanished. The air became sharp, salty, and cold. Bison felt a sudden brush of wind against his skin and the rhythmic, distant roar of waves.
He slowly opened his eyes. He was no longer in a wardrobe. He was standing on the porch of his childhood beach villa.
For a moment, Bison couldn’t believe it. He blinked a few times, his heart racing, looking at the weathered wood of the railing and the dark expanse of the island. The weight of the other world had lifted. A huge relief washed over him, so intense it was dizzying. Without even realizing it, a smile formed on his lips. He was back.
“Kant!” he called out, his voice raspy.
He rushed inside the villa, his boots thudding against the floorboards. He ran upstairs to the bedroom where he had left Kant unconscious. He threw the door open, but the room was empty. The bedsheets were rumpled, the room left exactly as it had been, but Kant was gone.
Panic, cold and sharp, flooded Bison’s mind. Did he run? Did the police come? Or… what if Kant was pulled into the other universe as I was leaving? Is he stuck there?
He checked the bathroom, slamming the door open. Empty. He ran across the other rooms, checking every corner, his breath coming in gasps. “Kant! Kant, where are you?”
He practically ran out of the villa, his feet stumbling in the deep, loose sand of the dunes. He didn’t stop. He ignored the burning in his lungs, his eyes desperately adjusting to the moonlight reflecting off the black sea.
Then, he heard it. A distant, agonizing cry. Bison froze, his ears ringing. He scanned the shoreline until he saw a silhouette. It was a man, hunched on the sand near the water’s edge. He was on his knees, his head bent forward until it touched the sand in a gesture of absolute defeat. Even from a distance, Bison could see his whole body shaking.
“Kant…” Bison whispered.
He sprinted toward the figure, his heart in his throat. He reached the man and dropped to his knees in the wet sand. “Kant!”
Hearing the voice, Kant slowly sat up. His face was a wreckage of grief, his eyes bloodshot and frantic. When he realized it was actually Bison sitting next to him, that he wasn’t a ghost or a hallucination, Kant let out a painful, strangled cry. He lunged forward, pulling Bison into his arms with an almost violent strength.
Kant’s whole body shuddered as he sobbed, burying his face in Bison’s shoulder. Bison held him back just as tightly, his own tears pouring down his cheeks.
“I’m sorry… please don’t disappear,” Kant begged, his voice breaking into pieces. “I saw you… I saw you on the porch, and then you suddenly disappeared. You just vanished into thin air. I couldn’t find you anywhere. Please don’t go. I love you, don’t leave me.”
Bison’s heart shattered. Kant hadn’t tried to escape. Even after being kidnapped, even after the betrayal was out, he hadn’t run for the boat or his freedom. He had spent the last hours in a state of total distraction, looking for Bison, terrified by the supernatural disappearance he had witnessed. He had stayed.
They sat there for a long time, two men broken by their roles, anchored only by each other on a dark beach. Eventually, the racking sobs subsided. Kant pulled back just enough to look at Bison, his hands trembling as he reached out to take Bison’s hands in his. His grip was tight, as if he were afraid Bison might dissolve into moonlight again if he let go.
“Bison…” Kant started, his voice raw. “I’m sorry for betraying you. I know you are hurt and mad at me. I know I broke your heart. I’m really, truly sorry.”
He looked at Bison with a vulnerability that was no longer hidden behind a charming smirk. “But can you give me a chance to explain? Then… then you can decide whether you forgive me or want me dead. I agree with whatever decision you make.”
He was offering his life up. He was putting himself last, just like Akk.
Bison looked at him and saw the coward who was finally trying to be brave. He let out a long sigh of relief and nodded.
Seeing Bison’s response, the tension in Kant’s shoulders finally snapped. He took a deep breath, and with the sound of the waves as his witness, Kant began his confession.
The moon hung low, casting a silver path across the water that illuminated the two men kneeling in the sand. The air was no longer cold; it was charged with the electricity of a long-overdue reckoning. Kant held Bison’s hands as if they were the only things keeping him anchored to the earth.
Kant took a shuddering breath, his eyes never leaving Bison’s. The mask he had worn for years, the mask of the charming tattoo artist, the clever informant, the man who always had a plan, was gone, scattered like the sea foam at their feet.
“I’ve spent my whole life trying to keep the people I love from drowning,” Kant began, his voice a ragged whisper. He spoke of his younger brother, of the crushing weight of being a provider before he had even learned how to be a man. He detailed the years of car theft, the adrenaline-fueled nights born not of a desire for thrill, but of the desperate need to ensure his brother had a future that wasn’t stained by their parents’ tragedy.
“The police… they knew,” Kant confessed, his grip on Bison’s hands tightening. “They used that history to put a leash on me. They told me if I did this one thing, if I brought them the assassins, my record would be wiped. My brother would be safe. I’d be free.”
His eyes filled with a fresh wave of tears. “But the more time I spent with you, the more I realized that ‘freedom’ was a lie if it didn’t include you. I’ve been guilty every single second we’ve been together. I was unable to show you my real self because I was terrified that if you saw the man behind the mission, you’d see a coward.”
Kant leaned closer, his forehead almost touching Bison’s. “I regretted it the moment I started, but I didn’t know how to stop. I love you, Bison. I love you more than my own life. I’m so sorry.”
Bison sat in silence as the words washed over him. He felt the echo of Akk’s voice in the back of his mind, the memory of that dormitory room where he had witnessed a different kind of bravery. He looked into Kant’s eyes, searching for the bitterness he had expected to find, but all he saw was a reflection of the same longing and vulnerability he had seen in the young Prefect.
Bison slowly turned his hands over, intertwining his fingers with Kant’s. The physical tension that had been a weapon between them for so long finally softened into something restorative.
“I understand why you did it,” Bison said, his voice steady despite the ache in his chest. “But it still hurts me. A betrayal like that… it doesn’t just disappear because I understand. So I need time to trust you again. Are you willing to prove yourself?”
Kant nodded frantically, his tears spilling onto their joined hands. “Anything. I’ll do anything.”
Bison felt a sob rise in his throat, the last of his defenses crumbling. “Do you really love me? Can you promise you will never break my heart again?”
Kant felt his own tears streaming down, the raw honesty of the moment breaking him open. “I love you, Bison. I love you so much. I’ll never ever break your heart again. I’ll prove it for the rest of my life.”
He pulled Bison into a tight, desperate hug. They clung to each other on the wet sand, two souls who had finally decided to choose each other over the roles the world had forced them to play.
Kant slowly leaned back, his hands cupping Bison’s face with a reverence that felt like a prayer. He leaned in and kissed Bison. It was slow and passionate, a kiss that held the weight of every lie told and every truth finally revealed. Kant poured all his love, his regret, and his hope into the touch. Bison felt the last of his rage melt away, replaced by a warmth that felt like a sunrise after a lifetime of eclipses.
They broke the kiss and looked into each other’s eyes, still held in each other’s arms. Bison smiled, a real, genuine smile that reached his eyes, and Kant smiled back.
Both of them felt a heavy pain pressing on their chests, a weight they had carried for years, finally lifted. The world outside their beach was still dangerous; Fadel was still out there, the police were still watching, and their legacy was still a shadow over them. But none of that mattered now. They had each other. They would face life, no matter what struggles or challenges it threw at them.
As Bison rested his head on Kant’s shoulder, held in that warm embrace, his mind drifted back to the boy in the white shirt. He thought of Akk, the boy who had been a mirror to his own pain, the boy who was still learning how to love himself.
He smiled to himself, closing his eyes and letting his thoughts drift toward that distant, silent dormroom. Thank you, Akk, he thought, hoping his gratitude could somehow reach across the dimensions. Thank you for helping me see it clearly. Without you, I would have been blinded by my rage and destroyed what I had with Kant. Thank you so much.
He felt a strange, lingering peace, a final connection that had actually been a gift. And I hope you find all your answers to your problems and the strength to confess your love to Ayan. I wish both of you a beautiful life together.
Bison pulled back from the thought and looked at Kant, the man who had been a spy, a car thief, and a liar, but who was now, finally, just Kant. Bison reached up, pulled him back for another kiss, and as the moon moved across the sky, the eclipse of their hearts finally came to an end.
The air in the dormitory room, once stifling with the weight of secrets and the sharp edge of Akk’s betrayal, finally began to clear. The moonlight spilled across the floor tiles, no longer looking like cold bars of a prison, but like a path leading toward something new.
Inside the quiet room, the echo of their shared tears still lingered, but the embrace between Akk and Ayan had shifted from desperate to grounding. Akk finally leaned back, his hands resting on Ayan’s shoulders, looking at the boy who had seen the absolute worst of him and chosen to stay anyway.
“Ayee, I’m sorry,” Akk whispered, his voice gaining a stability it hadn’t possessed in years. “Will you forgive me again? I promise I’ll never break your trust. I promise I’ll confess my wrongdoings and come clean. I’ll make sure no one gets hurt by the curse anymore.”
Ayan looked back at Akk, and as he watched the sincerity in the Prefect’s eyes, a new, profound pride grew in his chest. This was the boy he had fought for, the boy who was finally stepping out from behind the shadow of the Headmaster and the burden of Suppalo. Ayan smiled, a soft, radiant expression, and nodded.
“Together,” Ayan replied, his voice a vow. “We will do it together, Akk.”
Akk smiled back. Usually, he was the one who retreated from intimacy, the one who let Ayan initiate every touch and every kiss, his own fear of his feelings acting as a wall. But now, Akk felt a new courage born within him, a strength that felt like it had been bolstered by the stranger he had met in the shadows. He was sure he could fight any problems, any challenges he faced in the future, with bravery. He would never back down. He would never let his loved ones get hurt because of him; he would be the one always protecting them.
With that newfound resolve, Akk slowly leaned in and kissed Ayan. It was a firm, intentional kiss, an initiation that took Ayan by surprise. Ayan’s eyes widened for a fraction of a second before he smiled into the kiss, deepening it with a low hum of approval. They both melted into each other’s arms, the Curse of the school finally replaced by the truth of their bond.
Later, as the night grew deeper, Ayan decided to stay over. It was late, and both were emotionally exhausted. Akk knew that Ayan always found ways to stay over, excuses about the hour or the distance, and for the first time, Akk didn’t fight it. He smiled at the thought and agreed.
While Ayan disappeared into the bathroom for a quick shower, the silence of the room suddenly reminded Akk of the other presence. A chilling realization hit him: Bison. Bison was still hiding inside his wardrobe.
Akk stumbled on his feet as he rushed toward the wooden closet. He gripped the handles and threw the doors open, his heart pounding. “Bison?” he whispered.
The wardrobe was empty. Akk froze. He frantically looked around the room, checking every corner, peering below his bed, and even checking behind the curtains. There was no way Bison could have walked past them; he and Ayan had been sitting on the floor right in front of the door. The man couldn’t have vanished into thin air.
Akk turned back to the wardrobe and looked inside. There, lying on the floor of the closet, was Ayan’s black hoodie. The same hoodie Bison had been wearing the entire day. Akk picked it up, his fingers brushing against the fabric. He felt the grit of sand sticking to it, sand from their visit to the secluded beach earlier that evening.
It was the only evidence that proved Bison had ever been with him. Without it, Akk might have thought Bison was just a vivid hallucination brought on by stress.
“Was it true?” Akk wondered aloud, his voice echoing in the small room. “Was he really from a different place?”
At that moment, only that theory made sense. Bison suddenly showing up in the school, stopping him from committing the crime, and more than that, saving him from the guilt and making sure he didn’t break his promise to Ayan. Akk realized that the universe had sent Bison to save him from the doom he had created for himself.
A smile crept onto his lips. He hoped he could have thanked Bison properly, to let him know how much he was truly grateful. He also silently wished that Bison would find the strength to forgive his Kant, and that they would find their own beautiful, happy ending, wherever they were.
As Akk stood there, holding Ayan’s hoodie and smiling at the impossible truth, Ayan slowly showed up behind him. He was damp from the shower, wearing one of Akk’s oversized t-shirts and a pair of shorts.
Ayan pulled Akk into a surprise back-hug, resting his chin on Akk’s shoulder. His voice was teasing and warm. “Already missing me? Look at you, holding my hoodie like your life depends on it.”
He felt the tension in Akk’s body and turned him around, pulling him close until their chests met. “You could have just joined me in the shower,” Ayan teased with a wicked wink. “I wouldn’t mind.”
Akk let out a genuine laugh, the heaviness of the past twenty-four hours finally dissipating. “Ayee, you and your pervert thoughts.”
“Hey! What do you mean, pervert thoughts?” Ayan countered, feigning offense. “You’re the one who kissed me before, and now you’re standing here smiling like an idiot while holding my hoodie. So no, not my fault.”
Before Akk could argue, Ayan playfully pushed him onto the bed. Akk landed on the mattress, laughing as the air was knocked out of him. Ayan didn’t hesitate; he jumped on top of him, playfully strangling him with hugs and peppering Akk’s entire face with kisses. Akk could only giggle, squirming beneath him. “Ayee, stop…”
But Ayan didn’t stop. He kept kissing Akk, his forehead, his cheeks, his chin, until finally, he found Akk’s lips again. Ayan reached out and pulled the heavy bedsheet over both of them, creating a private world where the stars, the eclipses, and the ghosts of other universes couldn’t reach them. They melted into the warmth, two hearts finally beating as one.