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Damon, despite how much he tried to deny it, hated silence.
At first glance, most people would assume the opposite. The Ultimate Debater was a loner, someone who preferred the solitude of his room over the constant riffraff of his peers. Damon Maitsu stood above all that, or so it seemed, his focus fixed entirely on honing the skills he had spent his life perfecting. Why would someone so self-assured, so confident in his own abilities, need to distract himself with anything else?
That was all anyone ever saw.
They never saw the boy who grew up surrounded by noise - by the overlapping sounds of a happy family crammed into a dingy house, content despite everything. They didn’t know he studied best with soft violin playing in the background, or that the chatter of a debate stage helped him focus more. To Damon, noise wasn’t a nuisance. It was comfort.
But no one ever looked closely enough to notice. Even in a killing game, that perception didn’t change. Not at first.
The moment he opened his mouth at the end of the mock trial, he had sealed his fate. In the eyes of his classmates, he became someone unapproachable. Someone who would rather isolate himself than follow their lead. A snake refusing to shed its skin.
And for a while, that didn’t change. If anything, it got worse.
After the first trial, after she, the girl he had somehow allowed himself to trust despite his better judgment, made her choice and died for it, Damon shut himself off even further. It was better that way. Safer. What was the point of opening up again? Of trusting again? Not in a place like this, where everyone was both prey and predator, driven by the same desperate instinct to survive.
So he returned to what others expected of him. Silence.
But then, there was him.
That stupid influencer.
Kai Monteago, who, despite Damon’s best efforts, forced his way past every wall he tried to build with nothing more than a charming smile and crocodile tears. He overlooked the sharp edges, the cold demeanor, and somehow found something worth holding onto underneath. And when no one else would, he defended him, standing by him during the second trial against a pirate who had wanted him dead.
After that, things began to change.
The suffocating silence Damon had grown used to - the kind that followed nightmares of flames, pierced skin, and distant screams - was replaced. Slowly, then all at once, his room was no longer quiet. It was filled with constant chatter, with Kai’s voice spilling into every corner.
“My followers would love you! We’re totally filming a video together once I get my phone back!”
The words became so familiar that they echoed even when Kai wasn’t around, looping in Damon’s mind until silence barely existed anymore. His life became filled with things he hadn’t realized he was missing.
“Whoa, Damon, did you just giggle?! Is that a DIMPLE?!”
“S-Shut up!”
Silence turned into petty, juvenile arguments that somehow felt more natural than anything else.
“I can’t believe this! I knew you were a jerk, but a psychopath too?!”
“So I’m a psychopath now just because I haven’t watched some chick flick—”
“How dare you! Mean Girls is the greatest piece of media ever conceived! I’m making you watch it when we get out of here!”
And somewhere along the way, without him even realizing it, Damon’s world began to shift.
It started to revolve around the sound of Kai Monteago—every laugh, every overdramatic shriek, every quiet sigh. Those sounds became something he relied on. Something he needed. They pushed him forward, gave him a reason to keep going, even in a place like this.
So why?
Why was the universe so cruel as to take that away?
“Kai… will you please just talk to me?”
Damon searched his face for anything, for any flicker of recognition, any sign that the words had reached him…but nothing changed.
Kai’s expression had been the same since the accident.
It was filled with a hollow kind of despair. Dull brown eyes, contact-less and unfocused, fixed on the gray wall as if nothing else in the room existed. If not for the faint rise and fall of his chest, Damon might have mistaken him for a corpse.
Then again… he almost was.
Damon flinched at the thought, his grip tightening around the white sheets beneath his hands. He sat on a stiff stool beside the bed, its discomfort long forgotten. It didn’t matter. None of it did.
He just needed Kai to say something.
Anything.
Before he could think of something else to break the silence, the med bay door creaked open.
“Kai, are you awake? I brought dinner.”
Diana stepped inside, a plate balanced carefully in her hands. She paused when she noticed Damon sitting there.
“Oh. Damon. I didn’t know you were still here.”
There was no malice in her voice, but the words still struck something raw. As if she thought he hadn’t meant it - hadn’t been serious when he said he wasn’t leaving Kai’s side.
“I would’ve brought you something too if I knew.”
He exhaled quietly. “It’s fine. I ate earlier.”
In reality, his diet for the past week had amounted to little more than a couple of granola bars, but she didn’t need to know that. Thankfully, she didn’t press the issue. She only gave a small shake of her head before moving closer to the bed.
Her gaze dropped to the bedside table, and she frowned.
A full plate of food, left earlier in the day by Ingrid, sat there untouched. Diana picked it up without a word and replaced it with the one she had brought.
“You really need to eat something, Kai,” she said gently. “Your body still needs time to heal. It shouldn’t go long without food again. Especially after everything that happened with Wenona and Ulysses…”
Kai gave no response. Damon’s hands curled tighter into the sheets.
After a moment, Diana sighed. The look she gave Kai was something that could only be described as a somber mix between concern and pity. Then, unexpectedly, she turned to Damon, something new coating her features. Something close to pleading.
“Take care of him, okay?”
Damon just stared at her.
By the time he even began to think of a response, she had already turned away. She paused only briefly, resting a gentle hand on Kai’s shoulder before leaving the room.
They were alone again. The silence was back.
Take care of him?
Doesn’t she realize that’s what he's been trying to do?
A frustrated groan slipped from him as he released the bed sheets and dragged his hands through his hair. For a fleeting moment, he wished he could go back to when his world was smaller. When all that mattered was his family, his career, when he didn’t allow himself to care about anything outside of that bubble.
Maybe then this wouldn’t hurt so much.
His gaze went back to Kai.
As predicted, nothing had changed. No reaction. No movement. No acknowledgment that anyone had come or gone. No matter who visited, no matter what Damon said or did, Kai wouldn't budge.
Damon’s eyes drifted, catching on the bandage wrapped around the influencer's head, dried blood staining the white fabric. It would need to be changed soon. He’d probably have to ask Ingrid or Desmond for help tomorrow.
There were more bandages beneath the surface, hidden under the sleeves of his black sweater. His arms were covered in them, and Damon knew it didn’t stop there. Beneath the fabric, his sides were bruised and bound, marked by injuries Damon couldn’t forget even if he tried.
He remembered seeing them for the first time. How his stomach had turned, how close he’d come to emtyping the contents of it from the sight alone.
He forced the memory down, jaw tightening as his gaze lowered. There were no other visible injuries to the man, and to anyone else, it might’ve looked like Kai would make a full recovery. Like, given enough time, everything would go back to normal. But Damon knew better.
He remembered that day. That awful, fucking day - far too clearly to believe that.
He remembered making plans to meet Kai in the theater. He remembered arriving to find it empty. And then…
A scream.
A high-pitched, terrified, regretful scream that could only belong to a child.
He remembered running toward it without thinking, his chest tightening with every step, only to find Kai. Crushed beneath the stage.
Trapped under splintered floorboards and fallen equipment, blood pooling beneath him, staining everything it touched. Damon remembered the way his vision blurred, the way his mind refused to process what he was seeing. He remembered shouting—he didn’t know if it was his voice or Toshiko’s, or both—as others arrived and scrambled to help him pull the wreckage apart.
They tried. God, they tried. But the worst of it…the thing that wouldn’t budge…was a heavy metal support rod. The same one that had once held part of the stage upright now pinned the lower half of Kai’s body, practically crushing his legs.
He remembered Toshiko’s screams laced with frantic apologies as if saying sorry could undo any of it. He remembered the chaos, the panic, his desperate, shaky hands as they finally freed him and rushed him to the med bay.
He remembered the blood. It soaked into his suit, dark and warm, until the fabric was almost unrecognizable.
He remembered being dragged back, hands gripping his arms as Ingrid and Desmond pulled Kai away from him, rushing him into the med bay while Damon fought against them, uselessly, desperately.
He remembered them returning after hours, and even with their limited medical knowledge, they could tell that something was wrong. That a part of Kai was broken that could never be fixed.
He remembered—
A strangled sound snapped him out of it.
Damon’s hands were buried in his hair, gripping hard enough to hurt. His head jerked up immediately, eyes locking onto Kai.
The sound came again.
Kai’s face, which had been so empty just a second ago, scruched up in pain, his lips parting as a weak, broken noise slipped through.
Damon was on his feet instantly.
“Hold on. I’m here,” he rushed out, already reaching for the bedside table. His fingers fumbled around a red bottle. Painkillers. His hands shook as he tried to twist the cap off, cursing under his breath when it wouldn’t budge at first.
“Shit-”
It finally gave. He shook two pills into his palm and quickly pressed them into Kai’s hand. Kai took them immediately, like he didn’t even need to think about it.
But the pain didn’t seem to fade right away. The low whines slipping past his lips made that clear. Damon hesitated for only a second before placing a hand against his back, rubbing awkwardly, yet gently.
“Hey—hey, breathe, okay?” he said, voice unsteady despite himself. “Deep breaths. You’re going to be fine.”
He hated how his voice shook. Hated how the words felt like lies on his tongue.
Slowly, the sounds of pain began to fade. The tension in Kai’s face eased, but something was… off. He didn’t go still again. Didn’t go quiet in that same empty, distant way Damon had grown used to.
Instead, he shook.
His hands clenched tightly into the fabric of his sweater, his entire body trembling. His eyes, though still dull, wavered with an unfocused glint.
Damon frowned, unease creeping in.
“Kai? What’s wrong?” he asked hastily. “Does it still hurt? I-I can check if there’s something stronger in the pharmacy—”
The shaking almost seemed to get worse.
“Kai—”
“You should have just let me die.”
The words settled over the room like ice.
Damon froze, a chill running straight up his spine. It was the first time Kai had spoken since waking up days ago. In any other moment, he would’ve felt relief - something close to joy, even.
Instead, it hit him like a bullet to the chest.
“What?” The response left him weak, breathless, like his mind hadn’t caught up to what he’d just heard. When Kai didn’t respond, he tried again. “Kai, what are you—”
“You heard me the first time.”
Kai’s voice was flat and shaky. Stripped of that bright, animated lilt Damon had come to know. It barely sounded like him at all.
“You guys should have just let me die,” he continued. “It would’ve been better for all of you.”
Damon had felt a lot of things when it came to Kai.
Annoyance, confusion, reluctant fondness…but this?
This was different.
This was dread.
His heart pounded hard enough to make his chest ache, the sheer wrongness of those words sinking in.
“You don’t mean that,” he said, grasping for something—anything—that made sense. Because this was Kai, the same person who flinched at the smallest scares, who talked endlessly about his followers and the life waiting for him outside. He wouldn’t just accept his death like it was nothing.
“You’re insane if you think we were just going to leave you there,” Damon continued, trying his best to keep his tone steady. “We went through hell to get you out. To make sure you didn’t bleed out. Do you even hear yourself right now?”
“I never asked you to fucking do anything!”
Damon’s mouth snapped shut. He stared at Kai, stunned.
Kai’s expression had twisted, his lips curled into a snarl. His body drew in on itself like he was trying to protect what little he had left.
“I never asked you to save me!” he snapped, his voice cracking under the weight of it. “I never told you to waste your supplies - your time - on me! I was meant to die down there, don’t you get that?!”
“That’s…no one wasted anything,” Damon shot back, though the words felt weaker now, like they couldn’t quite hold their ground. “We did that because we wanted to. Because we wanted you to be okay.”
But even as he said it, something in his chest twisted. Because he didn’t understand. Why was Kai saying this? Why was he acting like his life didn’t matter? Like it had already been written off?
Kai’s trembling only worsened, his hands clutching tighter at his sweater.
“You just delayed the inevitable!” he choked out. “I-I’m going to die here. If not like that, then some other way. I—” His voice broke. “I would’ve rather died on that stage than be forced to live like this.” He whined. “I can’t… I can’t do anything like this, Damon.”
The defeat in Kai’s voice hit harder than anything else.
This…this wasn’t the Kai he had come to know. Not the one who dragged him out of his own head, who stood by him even when he was certain he didn’t deserve it.
He wanted that Kai back.
“You’re not helpless, Kai,” Damon said quickly, the words coming out firmer than he felt. “Just because you’re stuck like this doesn’t mean you’re some easy target.”
Kai let out a sharp, humorless sneer. “And what if I need to run?” he shot back. “Or fight back? Did you even think of that?”
“Then I’ll be there,” Damon answered immediately, like it was obvious. Like there was no other option. “I’ll protect you.”
“Damon…”
“I told you we’d get out of here together. I meant that.”
“Damon.”
“And if that means I have to step in if someone tries something, then I’ll—”
“Damon!”
Kai's voice cracked through the room. “You can’t just say things like that!” He shook his head. “I’m not - I’m not letting you throw yourself into danger just because of me.”
Damon hesitated, the words catching in his throat for a brief moment before he forced them out anyway. “And I’m not going to sit here and let you give up. What about your fans? The people waiting for you outside? You talked about them all the time. I thought that mattered to you.”
Kai went still, and, for a split second, Damon thought he’d gotten through.
Then a laugh rang out, a quiet, bitter thing that tore through the depths of his soul.
“You really don’t get it,” he muttered.
Damon furrowed his eyebrows, but Kai kept going.
“What do you think happens if I do get out of here?” he said, his voice starting to shake again. “When everyone finds out the Ultimate Influencer made it out of a killing game like this—like this?” His hands gripped at his bandaged arms, fingers digging in hard enough to hurt. “They won’t see me the same way,” he continued, the words spilling out faster now, like he couldn’t stop them. “At first, sure, there’ll be sympathy. ‘Oh my god, poor Kai, look what happened to him.’ People will eat that up for a while. But it won’t last.”
Tears started to slip down his face.
“They follow me because I’m fun. Because I’m loud, because I make them laugh, because I can do things. That’s the whole point. That’s all I’ve ever been good at.” His shoulders shook. “What happens when I can’t keep up anymore?” he whispered. “When I can’t film the same way, can’t move the way I used to, can’t be the person they subscribed for?”
More tears fell, faster as they gathered at his chin. “They’ll move on. There’s always someone new, someone better, someone who isn’t… like this.” His grip tightened, like he was trying to tear himself out of his own skin. “I’ll turn into something they pity. Something they forget. And when that’s gone - what do I even have left?”
He choked. “That was everything, Damon. That was the one thing I built for myself, the one thing that actually made me happy. Unlike you, I don’t have anything waiting for me outside,” he admitted, raw in a way Damon had never heard before. “I don’t have loving parents. I don’t have anyone I can just fall back on. So yeah, maybe I’d rather have died there… than make it out and realize there’s nothing left for me.”
“I don’t know who I am without that,” he forced out. “If I can’t be that person anymore, then I…then what am I supposed to be?”
Damon could only watch as the influencer fell apart in front of him. For days, he had sat at his side in that suffocating silence, hoping for something to change. Hoping to hear that voice again, the one that used to fill every corner of the room without effort. And now he had it.
But it was broken. So broken that, for the first time, Damon didn’t know if he could fix it.
And wasn’t that on him?
For someone who prided himself on being perceptive, on always seeing the bigger picture, how had he missed something so obvious? How had he expected Kai to go through something like that and simply… bounce back?
His chest tightened as he tried to imagine it. If it had been him.
If someone told him he would never step onto a debate stage again, never feel the steady rhythm of his footsteps as he approached the podium, never stand there with that same confidence, that same control. He’d be devastated.
So then how was he supposed to fix this?
How do you make someone whole again when they feel like they have lost everything?
An older version of Damon might have left. Might’ve decided this was too complicated to get involved in. A distraction that was clearly not his responsibility.
He could still do that. He could step back. Tell himself Kai needed someone else, someone better suited for this, someone like Diana.
But the Damon sitting here now, the one who had somehow gotten caught in Kai’s orbit, whether he liked it or not, knew that wasn’t an option anymore. He had made that clear when he got his perk. When he decided Kai was the one he’d rather escape with over anyone else.
So carefully, as if handling a fragile butterfly, Damon reached forward. He gently pulled Kai’s hands away from where they were gripping his arms, ignoring the way they trembled, and brought them to rest against his own chest.
Kai’s head snapped up. His eyes were unfocused, tears still clinging to his lashes. There was something vulnerable in the way he looked at him, like a wounded animal too exhausted to fight back.
And somehow, in that moment, Damon knew exactly what to say.
“You’d have me.”
Kai blinked, confusion breaking through the haze.
Damon didn’t look away.
“You said you wouldn’t have anyone to rely on when we get out,” he continued steadily. “But that’s not true. You’d have me.” Kai’s breath hitched, but Damon wasn’t finished. “And even if you’re right about your fans, it still doesn’t matter. I could honestly give less of a crap about it. Because if something like this is enough to make them turn their backs on you, then they didn’t deserve you to begin with.”
He paused. “I’m not… good with this,” he admitted quietly. “Emotions. Saying the right thing. But I do know that…I care about you.”
The words hung there, raw and unpolished, but real. “And I’m not going to let you go through this alone. Even if you annoy the hell out of me sometimes, you’re stuck with me now.”
A faint, almost reluctant huff escaped him. “I don’t care about your status. I don’t care about what you can or can’t do. I like you because you’re you. So don’t worry about being anything else,” he said. “Just focus on being Kai. I’ll handle the rest.”
For a moment, neither of them spoke.
The silence lingered, and Damon felt a flicker of doubt creep in. Maybe he had pushed too far. Maybe…
A sob broke through.
It tore out of Kai’s throat, raw and unrestrained, like something that had been held back for far too long. Damon barely had time to process it before Kai collapsed forward, pressing his upper half into him, a mess of pink hair and shaking shoulders.
“D-Damon—” Kai choked, his voice cracking. “I… I—”
The words fell apart into another sob.
Damon didn’t hesitate this time. He let go of Kai’s hands, shifting his arms carefully around his back, pulling him closer just enough to ground him, to keep him from falling apart any further.
“You don’t have to say anything,” he murmured, quieter now. “I’ve got you.” His grip steadied. “I’m not going anywhere.”
That was all it took.
It didn’t fix everything. Damon knew that much. Something like this couldn’t just be fixed. But as Kai clung to him, crying into his chest like he finally had permission to, it felt like something had shifted. Like, maybe things weren’t as hopeless as they had seemed.
Slowly, the sobs began to taper off, breaking into uneven breaths and small hiccups. Damon loosened his hold just enough to give Kai space, letting him pull back when he was ready. Kai lifted his head, eyes red and swollen, his face still damp with tears. But the emptiness was gone. For the first time in days, he didn’t look completely consumed by it. And then -
He smiled.
It was faint and fragile. Nothing like the bright, over-the-top grins Damon was used to.
But it was there. And somehow, that was enough to make something in Damon’s chest ease.
“Do you feel better now?” he asked eventually.
Kai nodded slightly, wiping at his face. “Better than I did,” he admitted. “I don’t think I’ll ever fully accept this.”
“That’s fine,” Damon said. “No one’s expecting you to.”
Kai let out a small breath, shoulders relaxing just a bit. “But… I think I’ll be okay,” he added after a moment. “So… thanks, Damon.”
A faint smile tugged at Damon’s lips—only to disappear the moment the influencer opened his mouth again.
“Though,” Kai continued, his tone shifting just enough to be familiar, “I didn’t expect you to get that sappy about it. Kind of ruins your whole ‘mysterious loner’ vibe.”
Damon’s face flattened into a glare.
“I’ve decided,” he declared dryly. “You’re no longer allowed in my bed when we move back into the room.”
Kai scoffed teasingly. “Wow. Rude.”
Damon let out a quiet chuckle, not bothering to hide it this time. Though, before he could come up with a response—
Ding ding, bing bong.
“It is now 10 p.m.! I trust that all of you will have a good night’s rest!”
The announcement echoed through the room before fading out.
Kai’s smile faltered, just slightly. “Guess that means you should head back to the dorms, huh?”
Damon tilted his head. “Why would I do that?”
Kai blinked at him. “Uh… the nighttime announcement? Isn’t that, like, the signal to go back?”
“There’s no rule that says we have to,” Damon replied plainly. “And I already told you. I’m not leaving your side.” He paused, then added, like it was obvious, “I’ve been sleeping in here since you got hurt.”
Kai stared at him.
“…What?”
“What?” Damon frowned. “You really didn’t notice?”
“Dude, I’ve been out of it since I got here,” Kai shot back, pushing himself up slightly despite the strain. “I thought you were just taking a nap or something whenever I saw you sleeping!”
Damon rolled his eyes. “Yeah, because it’s just like me to willingly sleep on a stool.” He stood up fully, stretching. “Anyway, I’ll leave you alone to get some rest.” He started to move back to the stool before Kai’s voice stopped him.
“Wait—what?” Kai’s expression twisted immediately. “Don’t do that. That looks mega uncomfortable.”
“It’s fine,” Damon said. “I’ve been managing.”
“No, you haven’t-” Kai cut himself off with a frustrated huff, trying to shift himself across the bed using his upper body. The effort was clumsy at best. “Hold on, just—ugh—”
“Here,” Damon said, stepping in without hesitation.
He slid an arm carefully around Kai’s back, steadying him as he helped guide him toward the edge of the bed. He was careful, making sure not to put pressure anywhere he shouldn’t.
Kai let out a small breath once he settled. “Thanks.”
Then he glanced up, patting the empty space beside him.
“Now get in.”
Damon hesitated, his eyes flicking briefly to the bandages. “…Are you sure?” he asked. “I don’t want to hurt you by accident.”
Kai huffed a quiet laugh. “Damon, you’re probably the last person here I’d be worried about hurting me.”
A small pause.
“Now get in before I change my mind,” he added, a taunting glint in his eyes. “Unless you’re, what, scared to share a bed with me now?”
Damon flushed immediately. “That’s not—”
He stopped himself, scowled, then climbed in. The bed dipped slightly under his weight. He settled into place, careful not to jostle anything too much. For a while, neither of them spoke. It was silent
“Damon…”
“Yeah?”
Kai faltered, then said quietly, “I care about you too, you know.”
Damon didn’t answer right away. But a small, genuine smile tugged at his lips.
“…Yeah,” he said. “I know.”
Another pause.
“Also,” Kai added after a moment, “I can’t sleep. Today was… a lot.”
Damon exhaled softly. Under normal circumstances, he would’ve rolled over, told him to deal with it, and ended the conversation there. But after everything….
“Tell me that story again,” Damon said instead. “The one about that stupid influencer award show you went to.”
Kai perked up slightly. “First of all, it is not stupid,” he said, a faint spark returning to his voice. “And second of all, it was a complete disaster - total mess. You literally had to be there.”
Damon didn’t say anything. He just listened. To the rambling, to the exaggerated details, to the familiar rise and fall of Kai’s voice as he spoke. And in that moment, Damon realized something. It wasn’t just the absence of silence that Kai had brought into his life. It was light. Warm and familiar. The kind that felt a little like home.
Maybe the brightness of it had dimmed, maybe things weren’t the same as they used to be-
But it was still there. And as long as it was, he’d make sure it never disappeared again.