Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“If you really loved me, you wouldn’t have let me find out like this,” Bison said.

He was right. Kant knew he was right. He understood why his betrayal cut so deeply, and why Bison refused to listen to what he had to say. He’d had a dozen chances to fix things before they could get to this point. He had lied to Bison over and over again. What could he possibly do to set things right now? He said he’d had no choice, but that was just an excuse, another lie, and Bison knew it. Kant hadn’t had any good choices, but he’d had them. And he had chosen to betray the man he loved.

Kant had expected the rage, but he hadn’t expected for Bison to come totally unglued. The way his mood had gone back and forth since they had gotten to the island, furious one moment, then showing concern, forcing Kant into the ocean but then fishing him out, tormenting him but only getting more angry when Kant flinched - Kant was left reeling, trying desperately to keep up. No matter how he acted around Bison, he couldn’t predict how Bison would respond.

There was so much about Bison that he still didn’t know. Less than an hour before, he had found out that Bison’s parents had been murdered and the crime had never been solved. It had cast his relationship with Fadel in a whole new light. Same mother, different fathers. Khun Mei. How had Bison wound up a hitman? Kant had wondered that from the beginning, but now more than ever.

As much as he wanted Bison to listen and understand, Bison didn’t owe him anything. And Kant didn’t know what he could say to the flatly true statement that Bison had just delivered while holding a gun pointed at his head.

“I’m sorry,” he finally said. It was all he could say. “I really am ashamed. You never trusted anyone. I let you down.”

“Shut up,” Bison said.

“You remember the trip we planned?”

“Shut up,” Bison repeated.

“I still want to go.”

“Shut up!” Bison shouted, jerking the gun back up. Tears were sliding down his cheeks and his finger was tight on the trigger, his hands trembling visibly. 

“Let’s go to Iceland together.”

“I said to shut up!” Bison screamed, and pulled the trigger.

The sound of the shot was so loud that for a second, Kant’s ears hurt more than his chest. He felt like the breath had been punched out of him. Then the pain started, a searing agony that made him choke out a cry despite himself. He instantly tasted blood in his mouth, and it spilled down his chin and spattered onto his shirt. He looked down to see the red stain spreading on his chest. The left side, too low for his heart, but he knew immediately that the wound was fatal. Maybe if he could be rushed to a hospital, it wouldn’t be, but he was sure that the nearest hospital was at least an hour away.

All of those thoughts passed through his mind in less than a second, before he coughed up another mouthful of blood. The pain was blinding. He couldn’t breathe. 

Without thinking about it or even intending to, he looked up at Bison.

Bison took a step backwards. Then another. His legs gave out and he sat down heavily on the concrete, still holding the gun in one hand. Tears spilled down his cheeks, and he choked out Kant’s name.

“It’s okay,” Kant managed to say. “It’s okay, Bison.” He didn’t know what else to say. He deserved this. He had betrayed the man he loved and hurt him more than could ever be put into words. Despite the pain, he said it again. “It’s okay.”

Bison stared at him, his eyes wide. Kant saw the emotions flicker through his face - shock, horror, grief, and then, finally, a bleak acceptance.

“Bison, no!” Kant shouted, and pain ripped through his chest when he did, but he barely noticed, because in that second he could see what Bison was going to do and he had no way to stop him. For the first time since waking up on the boat, Kant knew, with absolute certainty, what Bison was going to do.

But it was too late before the last syllable escaped his lips. Bison lifted the gun again, put it to his temple, and pulled the trigger. He did it so quickly and so smoothly that Kant couldn’t have stopped him even if he hadn’t been tied up and injured. There wasn’t the faintest hint of hesitation.

“Bison,” Kant sobbed, as Bison’s body hit the concrete with a thud. Blood splashed all over the sand. Bison’s hand fell to the ground with the gun still in it. “Bison, no. No, no, baby, no, please, no - I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, please - please - ”

From the beginning, he had done everything wrong. He had fallen in love without realizing it, without being able to stop it, and had destroyed the man he loved with his betrayal. His only solace was that he would only be a few minutes behind him. Darkness was starting to creep into the edge of his vision. It was taking more and more effort to draw in each breath, and the pain was starting to fade, as his body lost any ability to feel it.

“I’m sorry,” he wept. “I’m sorry, Bison. I’m sorry.”

He wanted to close his eyes and let go, but couldn’t tear his gaze away from Bison. His eyes were still open, staring sightlessly at the roof of the little picnic area. The pool of blood around him was slowly spreading. Bison, who had loved him, who had given his heart to him and told him to take care of it.

“Please,” he whispered, before he could no longer draw in the air to speak. He continued internally. Please, if anyone’s listening, if there are any gods, please give me a second chance. Please let me try again. Not for myself but for Bison. I’ll take good care of him this time, I promise. Please let me try again. Please.

Please.

~ ~ ~ ~

Kant woke up with a start.

For a few long seconds, he was too disoriented to even see straight. He was in a bed that wasn’t familiar, in a room he didn’t recognize, naked except for his socks. Why the hell was he still wearing his socks? A better question quickly subsumed that: why the hell was he wearing anything? Why was he waking up at all? Why was he breathing?

Had someone gotten him medical care and somehow saved his life? No, it wasn’t that. He patted down his chest and found no injuries, and he certainly wasn’t in a hospital room. It looked more like - 

- a hotel room.

The hotel room.

The hotel room where he had woken up after some of the best sex of his life, wearing only his socks because they’d been so eager that he hadn’t gotten around to taking them off. A tacky room that was much too red-colored in an empty bed with no sign of the man he’d been with. The one-night ghost.

Bison.

“What the fuck,” he said, and patted himself down again. Had it been a dream? The world’s longest, most coherent nightmare? He’d had bad dreams before, usually about the plane crash, and none of them had felt like this. They usually started to become blurry and disjointed within a few minutes of waking up. But this one was crystal clear.

Kant took a deep breath, caught between panic and excitement, joy and terror. He climbed out of the bed and looked around for his phone. He swiped to see the date. It matched the date he had woken up here the first time, the date Chris had given him this doomed assignment, the day after he had met Bison at the bowling alley.

“Okay,” he said, his voice trembling. Someone, something, had heard his prayers. There was no other explanation that he could come up with. He supposed that if it really had been a nightmare, that would be proven quickly enough when Chris didn’t contact him to give him the assignment. Until then, he would operate as if he owed some deity a major debt. Without even thinking, he fell to his knees and rested his upper half on the mattress. “Thank you,” he whispered, feeling tears start to well up. “Thank you. I’ll do better this time, I promise. I’ll do it right.”

But what did that mean? How could he go about ‘doing it right’?

There was still so much he didn’t know. But he wasn’t going to figure it out by having a panic attack in the hotel room. He forced himself to get it together, and gathered his clothes. He got in his car and started driving.

Where had he gone after the night with Bison? He couldn’t remember. He had probably just gone home; that was where he usually went after a night out. He had gone to Style’s at some point, he was sure of that. Style had lusted after his car and asked how his night had been. He had still been at Style’s when Chris had called him. But he didn’t need to go to Style’s. He needed time to think.

He drove aimlessly, leaving the city and heading for back roads. He realized he was hungry, and stopped for some breakfast, and more importantly, coffee. By the time he had been driving for about half an hour, his thoughts were becoming more organized. 

The first and most obvious option was that he shouldn’t go anywhere near Bison. He had ruined Bison’s life and it had ended with both of them dead. He should tell Chris to go to hell. Clean slate be damned; he wasn’t James Bond. Chris had had no right to give him an assignment that dangerous, let alone force him to keep on it even after Kant had gotten him the information about Bison and Fadel’s next target. If he had to go to prison, so be it. He would find a way to take care of Babe somehow.

But despite that being the obvious option, it didn’t appeal to him. He loved Bison. He didn’t want  to just walk out of his life. Beyond that, Bison needed help. Kant still didn’t know all the details, but the more he thought about it, the more it seemed like Bison had never wanted to be a hitman to begin with. He had been coerced or manipulated into it somehow. Before the attempt on Ruerat’s life, Bison had said he was quitting ‘at the restaurant’, which clearly meant that he was going to give up being a hitman. But would whoever was in charge of him allow him to do that? Kant had a lot of questions about that and no answers.

So he would take the assignment. But he would tell Bison the truth at the beginning.

No, he thought. That didn’t work either. Bison didn’t know him at this point. If he rolled up to the restaurant and said ‘the cops know you’re killing people and want me to get close to you and I’m not getting involved in that shit’, they would just immediately take off. Close the restaurant and move to a different neighborhood or even a different city and start over. They probably wouldn’t kill him - even Fadel probably wouldn’t kill him if he was up front like that - but he would never see them again.

That meant he had to tell Bison after Bison fell in love with him but before Bison figured it out on his own. Something that was going to be a trick, considering that he still didn’t know when or how Bison had figured it out. Presumably, it was because the cops had turned up at their attempt to kill Ruerat. After that, they had disappeared for nearly a week, and things had been weird upon their return. Kant had tried to ignore it, but that had clearly been a mistake. One of too many to count.

So he had to get close to Bison, with hopefully a little less suspicious behavior this time, and then not betray him. That seemed simple enough, although he doubted it would be easy. Because as soon as he thought about that, a new roadblock fell into his path - Fadel.

“Win Fadel over,” Bison had told him. Bison had wanted Fadel to relax, let his hair down, and let Bison live his own life for a bit. So they had set him up with Style. It had worked, but how had it ended? Kant didn’t know. But if Bison had figured out he was the narc, they had known damned well that Style was involved. Bison had taken care of Kant while Fadel had presumably taken care of Style. It was almost impossible to believe that Style had still been alive when Kant had taken his last breath.

He couldn’t get Style involved in this. He never should have gotten Style involved in this. It was too dangerous. That meant he had to find some other way to get Fadel to let him date Bison, something that seemed frankly impossible.

But he knew more now than he had known at the time. He knew that Fadel had given in to Bison on the subject, even though he and Style had barely been dating at that point. Fadel had clearly realized that Bison was going to date Kant anyway, and it was better if he wasn’t sneaking around and hiding things from him. Kant remembered what Fadel had said when he had been afraid that Bison was going after James. “Once my brother decides on something, even I can’t stop him,” he’d said. The clear subtext had been ‘because otherwise he wouldn’t be dating you and we wouldn’t be having this stupid conversation’.

Fadel would let them date if Kant just gave him some time and maybe took his concerns a little more seriously. Fadel had been suspicious of Kant turning up in their lives. He needed to take things more slowly. 

He would do it right.

He had to do it right.

His phone buzzed with an incoming call, and he fished it out of his pocket to see that it was Chris. A shudder went through him. It hadn’t been a dream.

He suddenly wanted to see Bison so badly that his chest ached, and not just with the remembered pain of the gunshot. When he thought about Bison now, he saw his face as it had been in those last moments - the horror, the guilt, the grief - and could barely remember what he had looked like when he smiled.

He would do it right. But he had to see him.

“Yes, Captain,” he said, and Chris, as before, asked him to come down to the station to have a chat. Kant resisted the urge to tell him to go to hell. Maybe he should do that but still get close to Bison afterwards.

He rejected the idea as soon as he thought of it. If he was going to get close to Bison, there was no point in antagonizing Chris. He would string him along with little bits of information or hell, outright lie to him about what he learned. Anything to buy him time to make Bison fall for him, the way he had before, so he could tell him the truth and beg Bison’s forgiveness.

Kant wasn’t sure what would happen after that. But the reason Bison had been so enraged wasn’t because Kant had been forced to spy on him by the cops. It was because he had passed real information along to those cops, had let Bison find out about it by betraying him. If he came clean of his own volition after telling Chris nothing relevant, Bison would be upset but wouldn’t come unhinged the same way. He would at least give Kant a chance to explain, would believe Kant when he said that he loved him.

It was the best plan he could come up with. And with that in mind, he told Chris that he wasn’t in the city but would be back in about an hour and would come see him then. He drove back and parked down the street from Heart Burger.

He had to wait about a half hour, and he didn’t dare get closer. His car was so distinctive; if Bison saw it, he would remember it. It was stupid to be here at all, but he had to see Bison alive. He wouldn’t be able to take a deep breath until he did. When Bison finally came out of the restaurant and tossed a bag of trash into the dumpster without looking around, Kant felt tension rush out of his entire body. He had been coiled tighter than a spring ever since leaving the hotel room, and now, finally, he knew for sure. It had been real. The gods had granted his prayers. Bison was alive and whole, and Kant would figure out how to keep him that way.

It took several minutes for him to gather himself together. His legs felt weak and his hands were shaking. But the worst of it passed, and he drove to the police station.

As soon as he saw Chris, he felt his own rage bubble up in his chest. He hadn’t forgotten how things had ended with Chris. How Chris had twisted his arm into doing this, had threatened his brother, and then hadn’t even let him bow out after he had found out that Bison and Fadel’s next target was Ruerat. He remembered Chris saying, “I don’t need you anymore” after he had done all the work. Most of all, he remembered Chris promising that he wouldn’t let Kant get hurt. A fat lot of good those promises had been.

But he held his tongue and kept his temper, accepted the folder with the information, and left the station to start planning.

The first thing he needed to do was set everything down in his memory while it was fresh. By now, he didn’t remember all the details of his earliest interactions with Bison. But the more he could remember, the greater precision with which he could approach his mission.

His apartment was empty; Babe was at school by now. Style texted to ask how his night had been, and Kant replied that it had been amazing. Style sent the smiling devil emoji and asked for details. Kant ignored him and sat down with his sketchbook. He started writing down everything he could remember, everything he knew about Bison and Fadel. 

This was dangerous, he thought. If Bison ever found this notebook, he would want to know what the hell was going on. So Kant wrote everything down, then wrote everything down again, and again, and again. He memorized every detail, impressing it in his mind with the repetition. For hours, he wrote about every conversation he’d had with Bison, everything he’d learned, everything he’d said and how Bison had reacted. When his hand finally ached too much to write anymore, he went out to the trash and burned the entire stack of papers. He could do this every morning, to keep things fresh in his memory.

After getting the assignment from Chris, he had almost immediately gone to the restaurant. That was too soon. Showing up like that had made Bison suspicious, and more than that, it had made Fadel suspicious. He needed to give it at least another day or two. In fact, it would be better if he could establish himself as a regular of the restaurant first. That would make it look like he hadn’t gone there to meet Bison specifically.

He knew things now that he hadn’t known before. Fadel usually opened the restaurant himself, and Bison didn’t show up until later in the afternoon. If Kant went there for an early lunch, Bison shouldn’t be there. If he did that three or four times, he could make it look like he was just someone who lived in the neighborhood who enjoyed a good cheeseburger. Then he could go a little later and meet Bison by coincidence.

But that would take time. Did he have time? He thought back to the sequence of events. The attempt on Ruerat’s life had been about two months after he had met Bison. That had been the tipping point, and he felt like he had to get this cleared up before then. But technically, that might not be true. The only reason that had made things go off the rails was because Kant had told Chris that Ruerat was the target. If he just let Ruerat get killed, wouldn’t things be fine afterwards? 

Maybe. But maybe not. Because there was an additional complication - the fact that Bison had clearly intended to stop working as a hitman after that. He’d said he had made a promise to Fadel, which to Kant sounded like Bison had promised to help him with one last job before quitting. Kant still had no idea what might happen after that, especially if Bison’s mysterious boss took exception to that.

He couldn’t waste time. But he still felt like at least a couple times at the restaurant before meeting Bison there would smooth the path for him. Chris would be a shithead about it, but he would deal with that.

Babe came home after school, and Kant made dinner and watched a movie and tried to pretend that everything was normal. He didn’t want Babe worried about him. But when he went to bed, he tossed and turned. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw the look on Bison’s face before he had killed himself. He saw the rage in his eyes as he had ordered Kant to jump into the ocean he was terrified of. He heard the gunshot and felt the agony in his chest. He couldn’t forget what it had felt like to die. When he finally did drift off, he woke up twice from a nightmare about it, his body drenched in sweat.

“It’ll pass,” he said to himself in the mirror the next morning. It had just been the equivalent of yesterday. With time, the memories would fade.

He took a deep breath, showered, dressed, and went to Heart Burger at eleven thirty.

As he had expected, it was Fadel who greeted him. There were two other customers at the restaurant, and Fadel had a customer service smile on his face that looked bizarre to Kant. But he offered a friendly smile back as he slid into a booth, and ordered a cheeseburger with no vegetables. “You must have just opened,” he said, as Fadel brought him the meal, and Fadel nodded. “It’s great to have a new restaurant in the neighborhood. My studio is right nearby and there aren’t enough places to eat around here.”

Fadel said something appropriately polite that Kant didn’t even hear. His pulse was racing and his chest felt tight. He took a drink of his water to try to settle his nerves down, then dug in. He had to remind himself that Fadel had no idea who he was. Fadel wasn’t suspicious of him. He could just eat his cheeseburger and leave and it would be a nice, normal interaction that would set him in Fadel’s mind as a regular customer.

But now that he was there, he couldn’t help but think that he might be accomplishing the opposite. Would Fadel find it more strange that one of his regulars turned out to have met Bison before? Would that be more suspicious than Kant turning up at the restaurant for the first time when Fadel wasn’t there?

He had to stop and breathe before he could force another bite down. Fadel had been suspicious of him to begin with; this might not make things better but it wouldn’t make things worse. And if nothing else, it meant he didn’t need to eat Bison’s cooking.

Fadel checked on him once while he was eating and Kant said, truthfully, that the food was great. He finished his meal, paid, and got up to leave. A nice, normal interaction. 

Just as he stood up, one of the other customers bumped into someone else and dropped a glass. It hit the floor with a crash.

// “Let’s go to Iceland together.”

“I said to shut up!” //

Kant sank back into the booth, his heart hammering in his chest. He couldn’t breathe. His hand involuntarily pressed against where the bullet had hit him, and the pain was blinding him.

“Don’t worry about it,” Fadel was saying to the customer, as he came out of the kitchen with a broom and a dustpan. “You’re not hurt, are you?”

Sure that any moment, Fadel’s gaze would turn to him, or worse, that Bison would somehow magically arrive, Kant fled the restaurant. He stumbled along the sidewalk for several minutes before he finally saw a bench and sank down onto it. He was dizzy and his hands felt numb. His legs were shaking. He put his head between his knees and tried to breathe evenly.

// “Do you want to jump, or do you want to fall?” //

Kant gasped for air. His chest felt like it had an anvil on it. His throat was the size of a pinhole.

“Hey, mister, are you all right?” someone asked, and Kant waved them off. He just needed to breathe.

Gradually, the terror subsided. He was left soaked with sweat and shaking. It took considerable effort to get up and go back to his apartment. Just as he got there, his phone buzzed to remind him that he had an appointment coming in. He took a quick shower and then had a quicker drink to settle his nerves before his hands had to be steady.

The nightmares that night were just as bad. He was tired and irritable the next morning. Babe asked if he was okay and he said he hadn’t slept well but assured Babe that he would be fine. He wished there was something he could do about the problem, but couldn’t think of anything. What would that Google search even look like? How do I stop having nightmares after my boyfriend murdered me (by the way I deserved it)?

One thing at a time, he told himself, and started rewriting his list of everything he remembered.

~ ~ ~ ~

Chapter Text

Kant first went to Heart Burger on Sunday, then again on Wednesday. Fadel smiled and said, “Welcome back,” and he was clearly happy to have a repeat customer. Kant had never been sure how much Fadel actually cared about the restaurant. It was clearly just a cover, but he genuinely was a very good cook, and both Bison and Style had said some things about it that made Kant think that Fadel enjoyed running it. He got another cheeseburger and tried the onion rings and then left. A nice, normal interaction.

Everything was going well. Style was bitching and moaning about being bored, so he hadn’t started stalking Fadel without being asked to. In a way, Kant felt bad about that. He knew that Style had genuinely liked Fadel, and it seemed like up until the moment of betrayal, Fadel had really liked Style. But the risk of introducing them now was too great. Maybe once he had settled everything with Bison and his mysterious boss, he would see what he could do about setting the two of them up.

But that was down the road. He would worry about it later. For now, he was trying to remember how to breathe as he went into the restaurant on a Saturday afternoon, around two PM. The place was mostly empty, although there was one customer at the back who looked to be waiting for his meal. And there was Bison, wearing that adorable backwards baseball cap, wiping down tables.

In all of this, Kant had known he would have to react normally when he saw Bison again. He had prepared for it. So he swallowed down the lump in his throat as Bison turned to him with a welcoming smile that quickly turned into surprise. “Oh - hey!” Kant said. “You work here?” he asked, and Bison nodded. “I must be the luckiest man alive to run into you again,” Kant said. He was fairly sure that was what he had said the first time, and he meant it more than ever now. “To wake up to an empty bed that morning . . . it was like I’d slept with a ghost.”

Bison ducked his head, looking a little embarrassed, but a little suspicious even though it had been a week instead of a day. “Sorry. I was in a rush. But isn’t it too much of a coincidence that you just walked into my place?”

Kant blinked and looked as innocent as he could. “I’ve come here twice this week already. My tattoo studio is right nearby and the cheeseburgers here are incredible. Who’d have thought I would run into someone so memorable?”

Bison still looked a little wary, but his shoulders released some tension as Kant slid into the booth. The gods were still with him, Kant thought, because at that moment Fadel emerged from the kitchen with the meal for the other customer, saw Kant, and said, “Welcome back,” and then gave Bison a questioning look. Bison immediately smiled, and Kant had to swallow down another lump at seeing Bison’s beautiful, genuine smile.

Now much more relaxed, Bison said, “What’ll you have?”

“Cheeseburger with fries. No veggies on the burger,” Kant said, and then abruptly remembered that he didn’t know Bison’s name yet, or at least he wasn’t supposed to. “And how about your name?”

Bison smiled again, and Kant’s heart skipped a beat in his chest. “It’s Bison.”

“That’s a cool name. I’m Kant.”

“Nice to officially meet you,” Bison said, and then headed for the kitchen.

Kant let out a shaky breath. His plan was working. Bison was a little suspicious, and Fadel might be, too, but it wasn’t that bad. More importantly, Bison was there, whole, alive, smiling. He focused on that image and tried to use it to banish the way Bison had looked the last time Kant had seen him.

Bison came back out with his meal, and Kant took another moment to be glad that he didn’t have to eat the terrible burnt burger that Bison had made for him on the first go-round. He wondered why Bison hadn’t just told him that the cook had stepped out of the kitchen, but supposed that Bison didn’t want this to look like it wasn’t a legitimate business in any way.

“Do you have delivery?” he asked. “I might have to order this later.”

“We don’t,” Bison said, then grinned. “But if it’s for you, I’ll be right at your door.”

“I’ll take you up on that offer,” Kant said. “You’re new to the area, right? Will you go on a date with me? I can show you around.”

“Sounds like you have ulterior motives,” Bison said.

Kant internally panicked. He didn’t remember Bison having said that. Hadn’t Bison just agreed? Bison had gone out with him. What had he said here to make Bison agree to it? Was Bison suspicious of him or did Bison think Kant just wanted to fuck him again? What were his ulterior motives? His goal was to be honest with Bison as much as possible, so maybe he should just tell the truth. “If I said I wanted to be your boyfriend, would that be too soon?”

Bison ducked his head, laughing, and Kant nearly choked on the well of emotions that came up from seeing Bison laugh. “A little bit, yeah. I appreciate the straightforwardness, though.” He leaned in closer, giving Kant a look that Kant hoped he would be seeing in his dreams. “I like it.”

Kant wanted to kiss him so badly that his chest ached. “So that’s a yes?”

“To the date,” Bison said. “Nothing else.”

“I’ll take it,” Kant said. “Do you work tomorrow?”

“Not until three.”

“I’ll pick you up at twelve thirty?”

“Sure. You can pick me up here,” Bison added.

Kant smiled stupidly. “Okay.”

Two more customers came in, and Bison went to greet them, and Kant didn’t try to talk to him for the rest of the meal. He ate and paid his check and said, “See you tomorrow,” to Bison, who smiled and waved as he departed. He had barely taken three steps outside when his phone rang and he saw that it was Chris. “Yeah?” he said, walking briskly down the street towards his apartment.

“I haven’t heard from you,” Chris said.

“That’s because I don’t have anything to report yet,” Kant said.

“And why is that?” Chris asked.

“Because I’m being careful,” Kant said. “You want me to bring you in a drug dealer or a pimp, okay, I can handle that. Now you’ve sent me after - ” He took a quick glance around the street, saw no one, and lowered his voice anyway. “A couple of hitmen. I’m trying to make sure I don’t get killed, and that means moving slowly.”

“You can’t move that slow. They did another job last night.”

Kant thought of Bison killing someone. Before the island, he had never been able to picture it. Sure, Bison had had those moments where he was a little intense, almost a little creepy. But a killer? Kant had never really been able to parse that.

// “Do you want to jump or do you want to fall? //

// “I said to shut up!” //

// “You’re never going to see your younger brother again.” // 

Kant let out a slow breath and said, “That’s not my problem, Captain.”

“I can make it your problem,” Chris said.

“Look,” Kant said, “you asked me to do this - forced me to do this - because I’m good at what I do. Let me do this my way and I’ll get you what you want. But I’m not going to risk my life for it more than I have to. I can’t look after Babe while I’m in prison, well, I can’t look after him if I’m dead, either.”

“Relax,” Chris said. “I’ll bring them in before they catch on.”

Kant choked back a hysterical laugh. “You can’t promise me that and we both know it. I’m going to do this as slowly as I have to and I don’t give a damn what you think of that.”

He hung up without saying goodbye and silenced his phone before heading back to his studio to prepare for the most important date of his life.

~ ~ ~ ~

The date felt strange, but not as much as Kant had feared. He was resetting his relationship with Bison back to stage one. He had to be careful not to say anything which would make Bison suspicious, which might be difficult when he knew far more about Bison than he should at this point. He wouldn’t be able to just relax and be himself, the way he wanted so badly to do.

But that wasn’t actually that different from the way this date had gone the first time around. Back then, Kant had been just as carefully curating the experience. He asked casual questions about Bison that wouldn’t arouse suspicion, and told Bison things about his own life which were safe for him to know. He mentioned raising Babe and starting the tattoo parlor. Bison, of course, said very little about his own past.

They talked about what their names meant, about food and movies they liked, about fun places in the neighborhood that Kant liked to go. They talked a little about cars. Kant remembered that Bison had been upset that he had hidden that he was a car thief. He didn’t know how Bison had found that out, but he would have to mention it earlier. That being said, he felt like the first date was too early. So he talked about how much he loved cars and how he’d gone to the street racing scene when he was younger, but stopped there.

After a while, he was able to relax at least slightly. He had to be careful, but he couldn’t help but just bask in Bison’s presence. The last few days of their lives had been full of so much trauma. He hadn’t forgotten how much he loved Bison - he hardly could - but he had started to forget why. He had forgotten how funny and smart and adorable Bison was.

“Okay, spicy food or sweet food?” Bison asked.

Kant laughed. “Spicy. You?”

“Sweet,” Bison said, waving the ice cream cone. “I don’t like spicy food at all. Fadel loves it, though,” he added. He had mentioned earlier that Fadel was his older brother. Kant wanted to scream because he knew it was a lie. Bison was an orphan whose parents had been murdered. What about Fadel? Was he an orphan, too? Was this ‘Khun Mei’ actually their mother, if only adopted? “Football or basketball?”

“Both,” Kant said. “I actually played a lot of sports in high school. Could’ve made the NBA.”

“Oh, yeah?” Bison looked like he was pretending to be impressed but wasn’t, and they both laughed. “That’s the opposite of me. I loved art when I was a kid and the only sport I did was swimming. We don’t have much in common.”

“Opposites attract, don’t they?” Kant asked.

“I guess so,” Bison said. “Mountains or ocean?”

“Mountains,” Kant said. His throat suddenly felt tight.

// “Can we talk about this on land? I’m afraid of the ocean.”

“Who the hell cares?!” //

“Yeah? I love the ocean,” Bison said, not noticing Kant’s sudden discomfort. “I lived near the ocean when I was a kid.”

The first time he had said that, Kant had felt like it was a fairly innocuous statement. Now he thought it was one hell of a way of saying ‘I grew up in a house on an island that’s now been abandoned because my parents were murdered, and a family friend takes care of it for me but I can hardly ever go back’.

He remembered this conversation. He remembered telling Bison that he was afraid of the ocean. But the words were stuck in his throat now. He felt like Bison hadn’t intentionally used that against him on the boat. Bison’s response of ‘who the hell cares’ made Kant feel like he hadn’t remembered, and the boat had just been a convenient way of making sure Kant didn’t run from the conversation. He probably wouldn’t remember it later, if Kant told him now. But Kant didn’t tell him. Couldn’t tell him.

Much to his relief, Bison didn’t ask further questions about Kant’s preference for mountains, instead pivoting to the next question. They continued to chat, and Kant’s nerves gradually dialed back down. 

They drove back to the restaurant and stood on the front steps. Kant didn’t remember how this conversation had gone, only that Fadel had interrupted it and had been pissed off. But one thing he did remember about the sequence of events in general was how hard he had pushed. He didn’t just want to get to know Bison, he wanted to get close to him, to be his boyfriend, to get Bison to trust him.

On the one hand, he shouldn’t push anywhere near as hard this time. It was weird and suspicious and also just not in his nature. He wanted to be able to be himself this time, and at least when all this had started, he had preferred casual relationships. But on the other hand, he felt like Bison had actually liked how aggressively Kant had pursued him. He had felt flattered by it, and enjoyed the intensity of it.

He settled for a middle ground. “So how are you feeling about being my boyfriend now?”

Bison laughed. “I’m feeling like this was a fun date. Maybe a second one is in the cards.”

“Okay,” Kant agreed. “I gave you my tattoo studio’s address, right? You can come by any time for further . . . discussion.”

“The way you said that makes me feel like you don’t want to discuss things with words,” Bison said.

“How do you think I want to discuss them?” Kant asked innocently. “Maybe more like how we discussed things the night we met?”

“Hm, what happened that night?” Bison feigned confusion. “I must have been drunk. I don’t really remember . . .”

Abruptly, Kant remembered exactly what he had been doing when Fadel had showed up. He felt a sudden pang of sympathy for Fadel. At the time, he had thought that Fadel was just Bison’s business partner. Now he knew that they really did think of each other as brothers. If he had walked into his apartment and found some hotshot grabbing Babe’s ass, he probably would have thrown him off the balcony.

So instead of doing that, he said, “Well, if you come over later, I’ll give you a reminder,” and Bison laughed, and that was when Fadel showed up.

Even without Kant groping Bison in broad daylight, Fadel still didn’t look thrilled to see the two of them standing together. He offloaded his groceries onto Bison and sent him inside, like he had before. But Kant felt better prepared for it this time, when Fadel asked, “Are you hitting on my brother?”

“Yes,” Kant said. “Is that a problem?”

“Why? You’ve already slept with him. What else do you want?”

Kant hadn’t remembered that question. What kind of a question was that? He didn’t remember how he had replied, either. Probably something flippant and obnoxious that had pissed Fadel off even more. He took a deep breath and said, “Look, I have a younger brother too, and I’m just as protective of him. You don’t know me yet so you don’t trust me with Bison and I get that. But give me a chance, okay? I really like your brother. And not to be indelicate, but since you’re the one who brought it up, yeah, we slept together. Sleeping with him once only made me want to sleep with him again. I don’t really think that’s strange.”

“Bison’s got enough going on in his life,” Fadel said. “He doesn’t need a boyfriend.”

“Maybe not. But does he want one? Because ultimately it’s up to him to decide that, and I think he likes me just as much as I like him.”

Fadel made a disgusted noise in the back of his throat. “He can like you if he wants. But I don’t like you. If you want him, you’ll have to get through me.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Kant said, and Fadel turned and went into the restaurant. Kant felt his heart racing in his chest, and told it to settle down. All things considered, that had gone well. It at least hadn’t gone worse than it had the first time. He would take that as a win.

He went back to the studio and saw several clients. It seemed crazy to him that real life was just going on as normal while he struggled with the weight of what had happened. He still had to see clients and make money, still had to keep the house clean and make sure Babe was taken care of, do laundry and make meals, while all of this was going on. It seemed unfair, but on the other hand, what was the alternative? He sat around staring at the walls, thinking of all the ways things could go wrong in a different way this time? That would only drive him insane faster.

Babe texted to say he was going to be at Knot’s, studying, and Kant told him to have fun and not study too hard. He finished with his last client and tidied up around the apartment. He remembered that Bison had come by with a cheeseburger for him, but had that been the same day as the date or the next day? And would it happen the same way? Bison had jokingly said it was to make up for the burnt one that he had served Kant, but that hadn’t happened anymore. Maybe he wouldn’t come by at all. But he had to come by. Kant needed to see him again. He needed to see Bison smiling. He still couldn’t banish the last images he had of Bison in his head.

“Steady,” he said to himself, as he realized that his hands were shaking and he was just standing in the kitchen, almost hyperventilating. “Take it easy, Kant. Get it together.”

It would be different this time. He would do it right. He had to do it right.

There was a knock on the door, and he nearly jumped out of his skin. He had to take a second to steady his nerves before he opened it, and just as he had last time, Bison was standing there with the bag from Heart Burger held in front of his face. Kant swallowed down the fear and the grief as Bison lowered it and he saw Bison’s smile. “Are you closed?”

“Yeah,” Kant said, glad that his voice came out normally. “But since it’s you, I’ll keep the place open all night long.”

Bison laughed. “I’m just here to give you this burger. You know, since you like them so much.”

Kant took the burger and asked, “Is Fadel likely to poison me?”

That made Bison laugh even harder. “No. He didn’t know it was for you.”

Kant took Bison by the wrist and pulled him inside, closing the door after him. “He’s pretty protective of you,” he said, as he pulled a couple of beers out of the refrigerator. He took a moment to take a deep breath while his face was towards the fridge, enjoying the fact that he and Bison could sit together and have a drink. “Does he hate all your boyfriends?”

“I wouldn’t know. I’ve never had one before.”

“Really?” Kant asked, and Bison nodded. He remembered being surprised by that before, but now it made sense. Bison and Fadel moved around, and Fadel obviously thought that anyone who wanted to spend time with Bison probably had ulterior motives in mind. Bison was, to put it kindly, on the impulsive side. Fadel clearly felt the need to keep a tight leash on him. Kant felt another surge of grief as he thought about the fact that not only had Bison loved him, he had really been Bison’s first love. He swallowed it down again. “You’ve never had a boyfriend?”

Bison shrugged. “I’ve never dated anyone seriously. But the guys I hung out with, like you, I enjoyed their company.”

Kant leaned in closer, reminding himself that Bison had enjoyed the way Kant had pursued him. “So what do I have to do to be your first boyfriend?”

Mirroring his movements, Bison also leaned in. “Win Fadel over.”

This conversation, Kant remembered very well. “And how do I go about that?”

“It’s impossible,” Bison said, plunking back into his seat. “Fadel doesn’t trust anybody. He has no friends. He doesn’t believe in love. Until he gets a boyfriend, I can’t have one either.”

For days, Kant had been thinking about how to approach this discussion. In retrospect, he didn’t think that Bison had actually believed Kant would be able to set Fadel up with somebody. The fact that Kant had known someone as insane as Style couldn’t be something he had expected. Bison wanted Fadel to relax, to lighten up, to loosen the chokehold he had on Bison’s life. But he had never seriously thought that Kant would be able to help with that.

So Kant said, “Well, as much as I’d love to be able to produce a boyfriend for your brother out of thin air, I don’t think that’s in the cards,” and Bison laughed. “But I don’t mind taking my time. Fadel will loosen up once he sees that I intend to treat you right.”

Whether or not that was true, he didn’t know. But it was a normal thing to say. A normal thing to think. In the absence of knowing that Fadel and Bison were hitmen, the obvious conclusion was that Fadel was just an overprotective big brother who would calm down once he saw that Kant wasn’t just a fuckboy who would break Bison’s heart.

“Do you?” Bison asked, smiling. “Intend to treat me right?”

“How else would I treat you?” Kant asked, his chest aching. 

Bison shrugged and leaned in to take a bite of the burger he had brought for Kant, which Kant let him do. “You think you can make my brother believe in love?”

“It’s worth trying, isn’t it?” Kant asked. “And I think that you want to give it a shot.”

“Oh? Why do you say that?”

Kant smiled at him. “You’re here, aren’t you? Fadel doesn’t like me and doesn’t want you associating with me. But you came over anyway, and it clearly wasn’t just to deliver a cheeseburger.”

“Maybe not,” Bison admitted. “If I never did anything Fadel disapproved of, I’d never leave the house, probably.”

Kant took a drink of his beer and asked, “Have you ever thought about getting a tattoo?”

“Sometimes,” Bison said, and laughed. “Why do you ask?”

“Gives you an excuse to come here,” Kant said, “maybe without Fadel breathing down your neck.”

“Nah, he would anyway, and I’ll come here anyway,” Bison said, and now Kant laughed, mostly because he knew that was true. “But I’ll think about it.”

Since things seemed to be going well, Kant asked, “Is there something specific you think Fadel is worried about? I mean, if you’ve never had a boyfriend before, it can’t be that you’ve had a bad breakup.”

“No. He did once, though,” Bison said, and Kant blinked, trying to sit with that information. He hadn’t heard about that before, and supposed that it wasn’t something Fadel would have discussed with Style. “That’s not really why, though. It’s partly the way we met. You know, you can’t really be serious about me when you’re the type for one-night stands. But it’s partly just Fadel. He’s a cautious guy.”

“He’s probably running a background check on me as we speak, huh?” Kant said, and Bison laughed and agreed. “Well, that might not go great for me. You know, I’m a pretty responsible guy now but I haven’t exactly lived a straight and narrow path.”

“Oh yeah?” Bison took another bite of the burger. “Sounds fun.”

Kant leaned forward so he could eat some of his own dinner. “Would you believe I used to be a car thief?”

“No!” Bison laughed. “Really?”

“Yeah, for a few years in my early twenties,” Kant said. “I needed money to take care of Babe and make sure I could send him to a good school. I was working retail and it wasn’t enough, and I wanted to open the tattoo parlor but didn’t have money for that either.”

“You don’t still do it, though?” Bison asked. “Did you get caught?”

“Yeah, like an idiot,” Kant said. “I got off with a slap on the wrist, but the cops were real assholes about the whole thing. I had to pay a fine but I’d stolen a lot more cars than they realized so I got to keep most of the money I’d made doing it. I’m not exactly proud of it, but, you know, it was for my brother.”

“That’s incredible,” Bison said. “I absolutely wouldn’t have guessed that when I looked at you.”

“I think I’ve changed a lot since those days,” Kant said. “It was partly for the money, partly stupid thrill-seeking. I’ve grown up a lot. I sort of had to, in order to take care of Babe.”

They chatted a little while longer, and Kant told Bison some stories from his younger and stupider days, which Bison listened to with avid interest. Babe came to pick up his books, saw the way the two of them were looking at each other, and made a hasty exit while hiding a smile. 

“So can I take you out on a second date?” Kant asked. 

“Let’s see if Fadel’s head explodes when I tell him I want a tattoo,” Bison said, and Kant laughed despite himself. “But I think a second date can probably be arranged.”

Kant wanted so badly to kiss him, but he forced himself not to do it. “Well, the studio’s open any time,” he said, then added, “I mean, not really. I do have clients who make appointments. But text me and I’ll let you know when I’m available.”

“Okay,” Bison said. “Deal.”

~ ~ ~ ~

Chapter Text

After some internal debate, Kant decided he had to loop Style in at least to the fact that he was dating someone. Style had been his best friend for over ten years. He was already wondering why Kant hadn’t been around much for the past week, and had texted several times to this effect. Kant had put him off by saying he’d been taking a lot of commissions because he was saving up for Babe to be able to do something nice for his birthday. But that excuse wouldn’t last much longer.

If Style found out Kant was dating somebody and hadn’t told him, he would know something weird was going on. And Style was worse than a dog with a bone when he felt like there was something he was being left out of. So although Kant couldn’t set him up with Fadel and didn’t even want to introduce him to Bison yet, he had to at least talk to him about it.

With that in mind, he headed down to the garage after finishing up with appointments the next day. Style, as usual, was listening to loud rock music and working on a car. He also, as usual, made comments about Kant’s car and about how it would be better off in his hands. Kant tried to let those comments roll off him and not think about how he had agreed to give Style his car in exchange for pursuing Fadel, a deal that had ultimately gotten Style killed.

“Okay, out with it,” Style said. “Where’ve you been?”

“You have to promise not to judge me,” Kant said.

Style laughed. “When have I ever?”

“Remember the guy from the bowling alley?” Kant asked, and Style nodded. “I ran into him again and ended up asking him out on a date.”

“A date?” Style was clearly surprised. “Like, in a location other than a hotel room?”

“Yeah,” Kant said, laughing. “He mentioned he was new to the area so I offered to show him around.”

Style put the back of his hand to Kant’s forehead. “Are you feeling okay?”

“You said you wouldn’t judge me,” Kant said.

“Technically, I didn’t say that,” Style said, but he was grinning. “No, it’s cool! I was saying that you need to settle down, remember? You’re nearly thirty - ”

“Ugh, don’t remind me - ”

“So if you meet someone you like, go for it! You like him?”

“Yeah,” Kant said, smiling despite himself. “He’s super cute, and he’s smart and funny. He knows a ton of interesting stuff. We don’t have a lot in common but I really enjoy spending time with him.”

“That’s awesome,” Style said. “Is it serious?”

“Not yet. We went out on a date and when I asked him on a second one, he said yes, but we haven’t gone yet. He said he wants to keep things casual and that’s fine by me, at least for now. So don’t get too excited.”

“I’ll get excited if I want to,” Style said, and he was about to say something else, but at that moment, a car pulled into the parking lot and backfired with a loud bang. Style looked over and laughed, saying something about the condition of the car that Kant didn’t even hear. His entire body had flinched away from the sound, and his heart began thundering in his chest.

// “Let’s go to Iceland together.”

“I said to shut up!” //

“Hey, man, you okay?” Style asked, as Kant stumbled back against the wall, one hand clutching at his chest. He couldn’t breathe. The pain was blinding. He gasped for air and tasted blood in his mouth.

// “Bison, no. No, no, baby, no, please, no - I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, please - please - ” //

“Kant, what’s wrong?” Style asked, and Kant shook his head, trying to banish the memories. He couldn’t do this now. Not in front of Style. But the panic was too raw to be contained. He couldn’t get in enough air to breathe. He couldn’t stop seeing the look on Bison’s face when he realized what he had done. “Hey, Dad!”

Somehow, and Kant wasn’t sure how, he ended up sitting on the floor of the garage breathing into a paper bag that Jay brought him. Style hovered anxiously, but after a minute, his heart began to steady and he was able to stuff the memories back into a box and force it closed. “I’m okay,” he said raggedly, and Style gave him a disbelieving look. “Thanks,” he said, waving the paper bag at Jay. “I didn’t know that actually helped.”

Jay looked at him with obvious concern and said, “Back when Peach got diagnosed with cancer, she had panic attacks . . . it worked with her so I thought it might work with you. But what’s wrong, Kant?”

Kant wondered how on earth he could explain this, his mind racing. But one of the things that made him good at what he did on Chris’ behalf was his ability to think quickly and come up with convincing lies. “It’s kind of silly,” he said, and Style squeezed his shoulder. “Babe’s applying for this scholarship. If he gets it, he’ll be able to study abroad. I was thinking I would go with him to help him get settled in, so I started looking at plane tickets. That was last week, and ever since then . . . I’ve been having really bad dreams about the crash. Hearing loud noises has made me flash back to it.” To Style, he added, “That’s one of the reasons why I haven’t been around a lot. I was sort of hoping it would pass in a few days.”

“You don’t have to hide that shit from me!” Style said. “I’m your best friend, you dumbass. I’m still amazed that you can fly anywhere. If I’d been in a crash like that, I’d figure out how to drive over the ocean so I never had to fly again.”

“Those are called boats, Style,” Jay said, and Kant gave a shaky laugh. “Don’t worry about it, Kant. Just take another minute to sit here before you try to get up.”

Kant nodded, and Jay went back to the car he had been working on. Style gave Kant a worried look and said, “You’re really okay?”

He wasn’t okay. He was the furthest thing from okay. He was bleeding out on a beach while the love of his life was dead in front of him, and it was his fault.

“Yeah, it happens from time to time,” Kant said. “Usually around the anniversary of the crash. I’ve always tried to make sure nobody sees it, especially not Babe. I don’t think I realized how badly I’d react to a noise that loud so close to me.”

“That car’s all fucked up,” Style agreed. “Stay here, I’ll get you a bottle of water.”

Kant nodded, and closed his eyes, letting the world steady out. He sipped from the bottle Style brought him, and it was cold, which helped further ground him. Style fussed a little more, but Kant managed to pacify him and said he was heading back to the studio because he had clients to see. It wasn’t actually a lie, and he calmed down further while working on tattoos for several hours.

But the dreams that night were worse than they had been. Since meeting Bison, seeing his smile, they had started to wane slightly. Now they were back in full force. After he woke up for the third time, around dawn, he decided to just stay up. He drank some strong coffee and made Babe breakfast. Then he checked his schedule and texted Bison. ‘No appointments until four today. Come over, I’ll buy you lunch.’

There was no reply for almost twenty minutes, and then Bison replied with, ‘Fadel said no’ and a crying emoji.

Kant sighed and wondered if it would make things worse if he went to the restaurant. Probably. He was trying to show Fadel that he would respect his concerns. ‘I’ll buy him lunch too.’

‘He’s immune to bribes,’ Bison said, and Kant was trying to decide how to respond to that when Bison texted again. ‘He’s going to do the shopping soon though, so I’ll come over then. I just won’t be able to stay long.’

‘Okay,’ Kant said, ignoring the way his heart thumped rapidly in his chest.

Bison arrived about a half hour later and said he had already eaten so not to worry about lunch. “Not much can beat Fadel’s cooking, anyway,” he said. “I thought about the tattoo and I made a sketch. Wanna see?”

“Absolutely,” Kant said, and took the tablet Bison was holding out. As soon as he saw the picture, his stomach twisted. He had to grip the tablet tightly to keep from dropping it from his instantly numb hands.

He had remembered Bison wanting a tattoo and that it had been a small black cat, but that was all. He hadn’t looked at it for very long or studied it in detail. Now, seeing it again, he realized that the cat was watching the northern lights out a window.

// “Let’s go to Iceland together.”

“I said to shut up!” // 

Kant wrenched his brain out of the memories. It was bad enough to have a panic attack in front of Style; he absolutely could not have one in front of Bison. “Did you draw this?” he asked, and thanked the deity watching over him that his voice remained steady. When Bison nodded, he said, “It’s cute. You’re really talented.”

“Thanks,” Bison said, beaming at him.

“Is this your cat?” Kant asked, buying time while the wheels in his mind spun like they were in mud, trying to stay anchored in the present.

“No. Just something I came up with.”

“You want a cat tattoo but you don’t have a cat?” Kant forced a laugh and hoped that it wasn’t too awkward. “That’s weird.”

“I like cats. I like that they’re unpredictable,” Bison said, and Kant just watched Bison’s beautiful face, losing track of what he was saying as he talked about what he liked about cats. Apparently, his lack of focus became noticeable, because there was a beat of silence, and then Bison said, “Kant?”

“Sorry,” Kant said, shaking himself again. “I was just thinking about how gorgeous you are,” he added, and was rewarded by a little blush. “Anyway, this is really detailed. You’re not afraid of needles, are you?”

“Pain kind of excites me, really,” Bison said, and Kant had to struggle to focus again, trying not to get lost in certain intense memories.

“I’ll print it out and you can decide where you want it,” he said. He used the excuse of getting the tablet connected to his printer to turn away from Bison for several long moments, managing to steady his nerves. But they were jangled again only minutes later when Bison hopped into the tattoo chair and Kant held the printout of the picture against his arm. His fingers brushed against Bison’s skin. It was the first time they had touched since -

// “Bison, no. No, no, baby, no, please, no - I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, please - please - ” //

“Hey, are you okay?” Bison asked, his voice now holding some alarm, as Kant turned away and pressed one hand against his mouth, struggling with a sudden wave of nausea. He felt dizzy and light-headed. He couldn’t do this, not here, not now - they were supposed to be joking around, flirting over the idea of a tattoo on Bison’s thigh - he couldn’t fuck this up again - 

“Sorry, I just - ” Kant’s voice trembled, and he fought harder with himself, but he felt like his demands of his body to calm down were only making things worse. “Suddenly feel a little dizzy.”

“Here, sit down,” Bison said, and got out of the chair, shepherding Kant into it. Kant wanted to argue but couldn’t. “No, don’t lie back. Lean forward and put your head between your knees. Take deep breaths. In through your nose, out through your mouth. Slowly.”

He sounded confident and experienced, and Kant suddenly wondered if Bison had had panic attacks himself, or if he knew someone who did. The way Bison’s hand rested comfortably, reassuringly, on his back made him want to throw himself into Bison’s arms and beg Bison not to leave him again.

“Usually it’s my clients nearly passing out,” Kant said, hoping he could make a joke out of this that would keep Bison from asking too many questions. He managed to look up with a wan smile. “Sometimes I get light-headed if I don’t eat enough. I skipped breakfast and had planned to have lunch when you got here. I should’ve been more careful.”

“Low blood sugar, huh? Let me get you something.” Bison jogged over to Kant’s fridge and found a pack of soda. He brought one over to Kant and even opened it for him. 

Kant sipped carefully. “Sorry. I kind of ruined the vibe.”

Bison shrugged. “No big deal. Just take it easy.”

Kant nodded and continued to drink, and hated himself a little for lying to Bison. He was supposed to be honest with him now. Sure, he couldn’t tell Bison everything up front. He had to get to know him better. But just like always, he was making up a story to explain away something that he couldn’t tell Bison, and he hated how that felt. 

“Feeling better?” Bison asked, and Kant nodded. “I don’t think I really want the tattoo on my arm anyway. Maybe my thigh? I like the idea of it peeking out from the bottom of my shorts. Making people curious.”

“It would look good on your thigh,” Kant said, but didn’t offer to put it there, because if he touched Bison again, he was definitely going to faint. “It would look good almost anywhere, really. Your thigh, your calf, your shoulder . . . I’ve seen pretty much every inch of you and can’t think of a single place you couldn’t make look good.”

“Flattery will get you nowhere,” Bison said.

“Not even a second date?” Kant asked. His heart rate was gradually slowing down. This encounter hadn’t gone the same as he remembered it, but things were still going well. “We could go to the bowling alley. See if you remember what I taught you.”

Bison laughed. “Okay. Tomorrow night? I’ll meet you there.”

“Sounds great,” Kant said. “I really am sorry about today.”

“No problem. It’s kind of nice to see that you aren’t cool and suave one hundred percent of the time. Makes you more . . .”

“Attractive?”

“No, you look like leftover rice porridge right now,” Bison said, and Kant laughed despite himself. “More interesting.”

“Well, I don’t mind being interesting,” Kant said. “You’re certainly interesting to me.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow, then,” Bison said, and left the shop. Kant lay back in the tattoo chair and took a long minute just to breathe.

~ ~ ~ ~

Kant remembered the date at the bowling alley. He remembered hiring one of his acquaintances to come flirt with Bison so Kant could drive him off. It had accomplished what he needed at the time, but he decided it was unnecessary now. He had been trying to push hard for Bison to let him in. Now he was more content to take his time. He couldn’t move too slowly, but things were going well and he didn’t need to stage something so dramatic.

The date wouldn’t be until after the restaurant closed, so Kant had plenty of time. He saw customers and talked with Babe about his school work, and before dinner, went to hit the gym. He was sitting in the sauna, planning things out for the hundredth time, when the door opened and Chris came in.

No one else was there, so Chris sat down next to him without an invitation. “How are things going?”

This was something Kant had thought about a lot, and planned for meticulously. He had to be able to string Chris along without giving him any real information, but without pissing him off enough to decide Kant wasn’t cooperating and arrest him. And the first step of that would happen now. “Fine, I guess. Are you sure about this, Captain? I’ve spent a few hours with Bison and he seems like the last person on earth who would be capable of killing someone.”

“So he’s a good actor,” Chris said. “So what?”

“Look, I’m a good actor, too,” Kant said, “so I feel like I know what it looks like when someone’s putting on a false face. Bison genuinely just seems like a regular guy who works as a waiter and likes cats.”

Chris shook his head. “Don’t fall for his act. You’re smarter than that.”

Kant bristled despite himself, partly because Chris was praising him and insulting him in the same breath, but mostly because he felt like it wasn’t an act. He felt like the man he knew as Bison was the real one, or at least the one Bison wanted to be. There was another side to him, but that didn’t mean that the way he was acting with Kant was fake. “Is there any actual evidence that he was involved in any crime? How are you even so sure that he’s a hitman?”

“He’s had a lot of odd jobs in the past year, always under a fake identity, usually in places that someone turns up dead later. And he never keeps the job after whoever that is ends up dead.” Chris shrugs. “We tracked him down after his latest stint at a massage parlor.”

For reasons that Kant didn’t care to examine too closely, he felt a knot in his throat at the idea of Bison working at a massage parlor. He pushed those feelings down into his gut, trying to remain objective. “I remember seeing that in the news. That a mob boss turned up dead at one.”

“Exactly. And despite theoretically working there, Bison hasn’t been there since that happened.”

“Could be a coincidence,” Kant said. “He got a better job when his brother opened the restaurant.”

Chris gave him a disappointed look that Kant couldn’t entirely blame him for. “Kant. Come on.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Kant said. “Okay. Like I’m supposed to cry about a mob boss being killed.”

“I don’t care about the mob boss, but there’s others. Politicians, businessmen.”

Kant wasn’t about to cry over them, either, but didn’t bother pointing that out to Chris. “Okay. I’ll keep working on him. I’m seeing him tonight so I’ll see how that goes.”

“See if you can get into their house,” Chris said. “That’s where all the real evidence will be.”

“I don’t need you to tell me how to do the job you’re forcing me to do,” Kant said, and left the sauna. That debacle was something he absolutely had to avoid. It was amazing that Fadel hadn’t shot him the night he’d found Kant in their house, and even more incredible that Bison had been willing to associate with him afterwards. He felt his stomach twist as he remembered Bison asking if Kant had drugged him, and how he had lied to Bison’s face about it. That was before he had fallen in love with Bison, but was still a shitty thing to do. He had been desperate to get Chris off his back but that was no excuse.

One thing at a time. He wouldn’t even mention going over to Bison’s if Bison didn’t bring it up first. 

The date went well. He flirted and teased, and kept his head while ‘helping’ Bison bowl, getting used to touching him and being close to him again. The bowling alley was loud, and the constant noise of the pins being knocked over kept any other sounds from triggering his bad memories. They chatted about a lot of different things. Bison was such a well of eclectic knowledge on multiple topics that Kant always enjoyed listening to him.

“You call your mother ‘Khun Mei’?” Kant asked, desperate for more knowledge on this topic. “Are you some sort of young master?”

Bison laughed, but it was a little uncomfortable. “No, just our family’s inside joke.”

“Are you close to her?” Kant asked, and Bison shrugged slightly but didn’t really answer. “Sometimes I miss my parents like crazy. It’s hard to believe it’s been nearly twenty years since they died. Even after so long, I really wish I could see them again.”

“I think that’s normal,” Bison said, but didn’t volunteer any information on the topic, and then quickly changed the subject. Then the dance contest was announced. Kant had been looking forward to it, remembering how much fun it was to just be silly and un-self-conscious, letting Bison take the lead. He thought again about what Chris had said, about how this was all just an act, and couldn’t believe it. This was the person Bison wanted to be, and Kant was resolved to remove any obstacles in Bison’s path.

He allowed Bison to drag him onto the dance floor with fake reluctance, laughed his way through the dance routine, and laughed harder when they got the trophy. After leaving, they stood at Kant’s car for a minute, and Bison said, “You said you didn’t know how to dance.”

“You did it so well that I had the courage to do it, too. I think we match each other’s pace so well,” Kant said. “In dancing . . . as well as other things.”

“Oh, yeah? What other things?” Bison asked, grinning.

“Whatever it was we were doing the night we met,” Kant said.

“Hm, I still don’t really remember,” Bison said. 

“Maybe the next time we see each other, I could remind you,” Kant said.

Bison shrugged. “Don’t get too invested. Isn’t it better to just keep things casual between us?”

“Casual’s fine for now, if you’re happier with that,” Kant said. “But you should still know that even if you’re not serious yet, I’m serious.”

That made Bison laugh. “We jumped into bed the night we met, and you want me to believe you’re serious about me?”

“I haven’t had a one-night stand since the day I met you,” Kant said, which was true, and had even been true the first time he said it. He’d had enough going on in his life without cruising for a new hookup. “Sure, I’ve fooled around, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to let an incredible guy like you go if I’m lucky enough to meet one. I’m not interested in anyone else now that I know you. Who could ever measure up?”

Bison was clearly pleased by that, even as he tried to hide it. “You’ve still got a lot to prove.”

“Just as long as you’ll let me prove it,” Kant said. “How about one kiss? You get to take home the trophy, after all. What do I get?”

“You’re pretty needy,” Bison said. “Aren’t you worried it’ll be a turn off?”

“You don’t seem turned off. I think you like it.” Kant tapped his lips. “Just one kiss.”

Bison leaned up and briefly, barely brushed his lips over Kant’s. Then he pulled away with a grin. Kant had to apply every ounce of his self-control not to grab Bison and throw him up onto the hood of his car and go in for a real kiss. He had goosebumps on his arms that he hoped Bison didn’t notice.

“I’m heading out,” Bison said. “See you later.”

“See you later,” Kant said, because he was pretty sure that it was too early for ‘I love you, please don’t leave me’. “Tell your brother I said hi.”

“No, I don’t think I will!” Bison called out over his shoulder, and Kant laughed despite himself.

~ ~ ~ ~

Chapter Text

For two days, Kant satisfied himself with texting back and forth with Bison. Things were going well. There was no need to push. He distracted himself with customers and hanging out with Style, who had dozens of questions about the second date and wanted to meet Bison. Kant laughed and told him that he’d meet Bison when he was sure that he wouldn’t scare Bison off.

He made his notes and tried to plan ahead and had another meeting with Chris. There was a lot he couldn’t tell Chris, but he had to keep him occupied. It would be nice, he thought, if he could rely on Chris to actually get information for him, if he told him that Bison’s parents had been murdered. But he was sure that anything Chris learned, he would keep to himself. So he just lied to Chris, saying he had managed to get Bison’s phone and check out his texts and emails and saw no contact with this mysterious boss. From watching Bison and Fadel interact, he said, it was clear that Fadel was the one in charge. He said Bison had declined plans for Saturday because he had to work, so Kant was going to try to follow him and see where he went. All of this seemed to satisfy Chris that Kant was putting in a good effort.

Two days without seeing Bison was as much as he could take, so on the third day, he texted in the late afternoon, asking Bison to come over. He was just finishing up with a customer when Bison wandered in, looking just as adorable as ever. “Are you getting lonely?” Bison asked. “Is that why you called me over to your studio?”

“Well, you said I can’t come to your place,” Kant said, “and since Babe is home at night, I can’t have you over then. So we’ll just have to meet here during the day.”

Bison shrugged. “We could just book a hotel.”

“Hotels are for hookups,” Kant said, pouting. “I want to see you every day. Who meets their boyfriend at a hotel?”

“Hey, we agreed to keep it casual for now,” Bison said. “I’m not your boyfriend.”

“I agreed to keep it casual, but told you that I’m serious,” Kant said. “We don’t have to go to your place if Fadel wouldn’t be okay with it. But I missed you, so I thought you might want to come over. And I thought we could talk about your tattoo.”

“Yeah, I’ve decided I don’t want a cat tattoo after all,” Bison said. “It would make me look too cute. I want something cool.”

“I don’t think you can get any cuter than you already are,” Kant said, leaning in. He waited for Bison to pull back, as he had been previously, but Bison didn’t. Kant kissed him, and it was just as glorious as he remembered it being. He wound a hand through Bison’s hand and kissed him over and over again, sparing a precious thought to internally thank the deity responsible for this. The joy he felt at being able to kiss Bison again could barely be contained.

Then Bison bit his lower lip, hard, and Kant made a startled noise despite himself as Bison pulled back. This was another conversation he remembered very well. “What was that for?” he asked, and Bison shrugged. “Do you like it rough?”

Bison leaned in close. “Can you handle it?”

Kant remembered feeling uncertain about this the first time around, before he knew where Bison was going with this, before he had experienced it. But his response was the same. “If you like it, I can handle it.”

Still leaning in, Bison asked, “What if I told you that I was into bondage and whips?”

“Are you the S or the M?” Kant replied, smiling despite himself.

“I prefer to be in control.”

“You didn’t mention that the night we met,” Kant said.

“Who would tell a total stranger about that?”

Kant had to admit that Bison had a point. Frankly, it was still a little insane that Bison was saying this now, after they had slept together once and been on two dates. He wasn’t sure what that meant about Bison, beyond the obvious, that he could likely benefit from some psychological help. “So you trust me now?”

“No. But I know you better, at least.” Bison shrugged. “You don’t have to be into it.”

“I’ll try almost anything once,” Kant said. “I don’t know if I’d like it. But if you’re into it, I’ll go for it.” He sat down in the tattoo chair, gesturing for Bison to sit next to him, which Bison did. “Tell me about it. What do you like?”

The first time they’d had this discussion, he hadn’t really taken it seriously. He had just been getting Bison to trust him, figuring that if he indulged Bison in this, it would further build their relationship. Now he knew two things that he hadn’t known then. The first was that he was in love with Bison and was going to do anything to keep him safe and make him happy. The second was that he genuinely was pretty into this. He wasn’t sure if, in the long-term, he would want to do everything Bison liked. But their encounter at Bison’s house had been . . . something else. 

At the time, he had been nervous as hell, flummoxed by the fact that Bison was still conscious, let alone that Bison was tying him up and saying all sorts of things that made Kant uncertain about what was going to happen to him. He hadn’t even been sure that it was a sex thing, but had wondered if Bison had realized he was a narc and was tying him down to deal with him once Fadel got home. 

That had quickly been proven incorrect, and for the five or so minutes after he had been tied down but before Bison had passed out had been incredibly erotic. He had been so turned on that he’d barely been able to walk straight after getting himself untied. Even at the time, as he’d started his investigation, he had been hoping they’d had a chance to explore it further.

But they hadn’t. Bison had been suspicious of him afterwards, for obvious reasons, and even after they had officially become boyfriends, he hadn’t brought it up again. They’d had sex a few times after that, and it had certainly been enjoyable, but it had been as vanilla as two men like them were probably capable of getting.

So instead of coaxing Bison to slap him, they talked about a number of things both of them had seen in porn they’d watched before settling on the clothespins. “I’d better lock the door,” Kant said, because he vividly remembered Fadel walking in on this. Even if things had changed this time, if Fadel was marginally less distrustful because of how things had been going, he wasn’t about to take that chance. “This is a public business, you know,” he added, and Bison laughed.

That was how Kant, for the second time, wound up sitting in his tattoo chair with clothespins on his nipples and Bison in his lap, so horny that it was almost as painful as the clamps. He wanted Bison so badly that it took all his self-control not to start tearing both their clothes off. Instead he just squeezed Bison’s ass, letting Bison do whatever he wanted. The pain mixed with the pleasure of Bison’s mouth on his throat and Bison’s weight in his lap was driving him out of his mind.

There was a sudden loud banging on the door, and then Fadel shouted, “Bison! I know you’re in there!”

Bison swore, recoiling slightly from Kant as if Fadel really was in the room with them and had caught them in flagrante. Then he laughed slightly and said, “Oops. Probably should have expected him to turn up at some point. Is it okay if I let him - Kant?”

“I’m okay,” Kant wheezed, but he wasn’t. The loud noise had startled him, and the sharp sting in his chest, so delicious a moment ago, had now changed to a dull throbbing that - 

// “It’s okay,” Kant said, as blood spilled down his chin. “It’s okay.” //

“Hey - ” Bison hastily removed the clothespins just as Fadel banged on the door again. “Just a second!” he shouted, helping Kant sit up and put his head down before he could pass out. Unthinking, involuntarily, Kant grabbed Bison around the waist and pressed his face into Bison’s chest. His breath was coming in short, sharp gasps. The world was swirling around him, gray at the edges. “Hey, Kant, you’re hyperventilating,” Bison said, his voice a little more gentle. “Just take deep breaths, okay? Easy.” He rubbed his hands up and down Kant’s back. “Slow down. When my hand goes up, you breathe in. It goes down, you breathe out. Okay?”

Kant managed a nod, and did as instructed. It took several long seconds for him to regain even a hint of equilibrium, and when he looked up, Fadel was behind Bison, glaring at him. Since Bison hadn’t moved, Kant assumed that Fadel had either broken or picked the lock to his door, but had been brought up short by this scene which was so different from what he had obviously expected.

“Sorry,” Kant managed, his voice hoarse. 

Bison was frowning, clearly concerned, and he rubbed his hand over Kant’s hair and said, “It’s fine. Fadel, what are you doing here?”

“You weren’t at the restaurant and you weren’t answering my calls,” Fadel said, “so I figured you had to be here. What’s going on?”

“It’s not your business,” Bison said to him. “Can’t you give us some privacy?”

“Not when I have questions about what you’ll do with it,” Fadel retorted.

“Fadel . . .”

“It’s fine,” Kant said, managing to regain control of himself. He decided he had to tell Bison at least some of the truth, since apparently, despite his best efforts, this was going to keep happening. He picked up a bottle of water from his counter and took a long drink. “I’m sorry, Bison. The other day, when I saw it was low blood sugar, I just - didn’t want you to worry about me. The truth is . . . remember how I told you that I used to be a car thief?” he asked, and Bison nodded while Fadel’s eyes narrowed. “Honestly, I ran with a pretty bad crowd. I got involved with . . . things I really don’t want to be involved with anymore. A while back, someone that I . . . really cared about . . . got shot and killed in front of me.”

“Shit,” Bison said.

“Ever since then, loud noises like that - I have a lot of trouble with them,” Kant admitted, not looking at either of them. “It always makes me feel like I’m right back there when it happened. Sometimes other things, too . . . I’m really never sure what’s going to trigger it. I know that probably sounds stupid - ”

“It doesn’t,” Bison said. “It really doesn’t.”

Kant tried to smile and failed. “Every time it happens, I tell myself to calm down, I’m fine, but I can’t just - not have that reaction. It’s really frustrating.”

“I bet,” Bison said. “I think we all have things we’re afraid of. And it sounds like what happened was pretty awful.”

“What sort of things were you involved with?” Fadel asked, glowering.

Bison looked exasperated. “Fadel. Come on.”

“What? He comes into your life like some knight in shining armor and now it turns out he was a car thief? Who knows what else he did?”

“Okay, that might be true, but I’ve only known him a couple weeks,” Bison said. “Are you saying that when two people start dating, they have to share all their dirty secrets?”

Fadel’s mouth tightened, and Kant knew exactly what conversation they were really having, even as none of it was spoken aloud. If Kant wasn’t entitled to his secrets, then neither was Bison. The implication which Fadel had inadvertently made was that Bison should tell Kant all about his past as well. And the retort which he clearly couldn’t make in front of Kant was that this was why he didn’t want Bison dating anybody at all.

“It’s fine, Bison,” Kant said. “He’s just worried about you. I get it. Maybe I’m not the sort of person he would want to be your boyfriend, but give me a chance.”

“I wouldn’t want a knight in shining armor, anyway,” Bison said, laughing. “I don’t want someone who would end up on a pedestal or who might think they were better than me. Everybody has done things they’re not proud of. But honestly, Kant, it seems pretty severe. Have you talked to a doctor about it?”

Kant shook his head. “I kept telling myself to give it time and it’ll eventually get better. But you’re right, I should stop putting it off. It’s really embarrassing that this keeps happening in front of you.”

“Don’t be embarrassed,” Bison said. “It’s not your fault.”

Kant winced despite himself, because of course it was his fault, or at least partially his fault, but he couldn’t explain that to Bison. He thought about how calm and reassuring Bison was, and wondered again about his murdered parents. He decided, cautiously, to ask about it. “That really helped, what you did with your hand and the breathing. Where did you learn that?”

“Oh, from Fadel,” Bison said, and he looked over at his brother with a smile. Fadel huffed and folded his arms over his chest. “I had a lot of bad dreams when I was younger, and he was always there to calm me down.”

“About what?” Kant asked.

Bison shook his head. “I don’t know you well enough to tell you that yet.”

“Okay,” Kant said. “You don’t have to tell me anything. I’ll be there whenever you’re ready. And thanks for tonight. It’s really nice that you don’t . . . think less of me for having this problem.”

Bison smiled and leaned in for a kiss, although it was brief and gentle. Fadel made a disgusted noise in the back of his throat and said, “We’re leaving, Bison.”

“Yeah, yeah, okay. Kant, I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Sure,” Kant said, trying for a smile and almost managing it. He sprawled back in his chair as Bison closed the door after them, his chest aching, body soaked with sweat. Did he really need to talk to somebody about this? Couldn’t it just go away? He was fine. Bison was fine. There was no reason to keep thinking about what had happened on that beach. He wouldn’t let it happen again. 

Besides, what could he possibly tell a doctor? That he’d gotten murdered a few weeks ago and couldn’t stop thinking about it? Kant shook his head and got out of the chair. He would handle this. If people could just stop startling him, he would be fine. There was no room for him to be anything else.

~ ~ ~ ~

Kant still wanted to take Bison out to the bar, because they really had had a good time. He didn’t need to talk his way into Bison’s house. They could just have a few drinks and maybe make out in the bathroom or something. He would figure it out.

And he was proven right about something that he had suspected - he had never really needed to get Style involved at all. Even without him hitting on Fadel and stalking him through his routine, Fadel agreed to let Bison go out with Kant as long as they got the restaurant cleaned up before they left, just as he had before. Kant’s chest ached as he thought about the fact that he’d gotten Style killed for no reason. Fadel was suspicious and overprotective and didn’t trust Bison to make good choices, but he cared about his little brother. He wanted him to be happy, and seeing Kant obviously made Bison happy.

So Kant nearly flipped his shit when Style just walked into Heart Burger around eight PM, cool as a cucumber. Kant had arrived around seven so he could have dinner and flirt with Bison while he waited for the restaurant to close, and practically hit the ceiling. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m bored,” Style whined. “I told you I was bored. I want to meet your boyfriend.”

“I told you already, he’s not my boyfriend yet, we’re keeping things casual - ” Kant’s heart raced in his chest and he took a long drink of water to try to calm it down. He hadn’t planned for this. How would Fadel react? “How did you even know I was here? Were you following me?”

“No, I guessed,” Style said. “You said he worked as a waiter at a burger joint and I figured it had to be pretty close to your tattoo parlor since you’ve been coming here all the time. There aren’t that many burger joints around here.” He slid into the booth without waiting for an invitation. “Are you just here to hang out with him while he works? That’s adorable. You’re really down bad, you know?”

“Yes, I’m very aware of that,” Kant groaned. He told himself that this wasn’t a big deal. As long as he didn’t push Style, he wouldn’t go after Fadel. Even when Kant’s car had been the stakes, he had tried to back out twice because of how cold and intimidating Fadel was. Kant just had to stay chill, introduce him to Bison, and not say anything about Fadel at all.

“Hey!” Bison came over to the table, seeing a new face, and gave Kant a questioning look.

“This is Style,” Kant said. “He’s been my best friend for over a decade, gets bored easily and has the impulse control of a toddler, so he decided to come crash our date.”

Bison laughed. “Hungry?”

“Hell yes, and Kant told me the burgers here are top notch,” Style said. “And I’m not here to crash anything! I just want to meet the guy that Kant has ditched me for.”

“Oh, wow,” Kant said, laughing. “I haven’t ditched you, you whiny little baby - ”

“I’ve barely seen your face in two weeks, normally I can’t get rid of you - ”

“Who can’t get rid of who?” Kant retorted.

Style just grinned and said, “Bacon cheeseburger and a beer, please and thanks.”

“Coming right up,” Bison said, and he was still laughing. Kant took a moment to appreciate how beautiful he was and how great it was that he was happy. 

“Seriously, though,” he said to Style, as Bison went into the kitchen. “I’m taking him out after this, to that bar that Pink just opened. He gets off shift at nine, so it’s not like I’ve just been sitting here all day,” he added, but didn’t mention the deal he’d made with Fadel to help clean the kitchen. If Style found out that Kant was willing to wash dishes for Bison, he’d start printing wedding invitations. 

“Okay, sure, but I still wanted to meet him,” Style said. “I can’t remember the last time you were serious about someone. What do you like about him?”

Everything, Kant thought. “His smile. He’s gorgeous when he smiles. He knows a lot about so many random things that it’s impossible to be bored when he’s there. He’s really un-self-conscious so it’s fun to just be silly and goofy with him.”

Style was snickering. “You sound besotted,” he said, and Kant shrugged. “No, but what’s funny is, I was trying to remember if you had told me the name of this place, and you hadn’t, right? But I swear I’ve heard it before.”

“You probably just passed by it without seeing it,” Kant said. 

“Maybe,” Style said, but he looked dubious. Kant didn’t know how he could know the name of the restaurant. He was positive that he hadn’t told Style, because he didn’t want Style showing up here, for this exact reason. 

Bison came back with Style’s beer and a refill of Kant’s soda. The restaurant was quiet, with only two other couples, so he pulled up a chair. “Burger will be just a few minutes. So you came to check me out, huh?”

Kant quickly intervened before Style could say something ridiculous. “I told him we’re keeping things casual but he’s nosy as hell.”

“It’s true,” Style said, laughing. “I wanted to see what’s so special about you. He hasn’t been serious about anyone since tenth grade.”

“That is not true,” Kant said, his face flushing slightly. “I had one or two serious relationships in my twenties, they just never panned out and I gave up a few years ago, that’s all. I never said that I would never get into a relationship again.”

“Yeah?” Bison looked interested. “Tell me about these other serious relationships. Should I be jealous?”

“Absolutely not,” Style said. “Crane was a huge prick who only ever talked about rugby, Akk was basically just a gangster, and James - ”

“I was not in a relationship with James,” Kant interrupted, wincing as he thought about that upcoming sequence of events. “Just because he wanted to be, convinced himself that we were, and then told all our mutual friends that I had dumped him when I made that clear to him doesn’t mean we were ever actually boyfriends.”

“Yeah, he sucked,” Style said. “You see why I have to check you out, Bison? Kant’s taste in men is very questionable.”

“You’re one to talk,” Kant muttered, thinking about Style falling for Fadel, and Style just laughed. “Don’t listen to him, Bison. Sure, I’ve had a couple relationships, but the most recent one ended four years ago. There’s nothing you need to worry about. But I am serious about you, like I said.”

“Sure, sure,” Bison said. “I believe you.”

Kant groaned. “Style, I swear, if you fuck this up for me by talking about my exes - ”

“Sorry, sorry!” Style said. “In all seriousness, Bison, Kant’s done nothing but talk about how great you are for the past two weeks. Give him a chance, okay? He’s an awesome friend and he’ll be a great boyfriend, too.”

“We’re just taking it slow, that’s all,” Bison said. “We’re keeping things casual while we get to know each other. There’s nothing wrong with that, right?”

“Right,” Style said. “You like cars?”

“Hm, Fadel’s more of a car guy than I am,” Bison said. “Cars are fine but I’m not really into them. Kant and I actually don’t have much in common,” he added, laughing. “He’s into cars and played sports in high school. I was always just an art kid.”

“Hey, Kant loves art!” Style said. “He’s always drawing, you know. He told me when he was seventeen that he wanted to be a tattoo artist.”

“Well, we can’t all be car thieves,” Bison said, with a wink at Kant that nearly killed him on the spot.

In a lower voice, Style said, “You told him that you used to steal cars? Why don’t you just buy him a ring?”

“Don’t tempt me,” Kant said, smiling at Bison, who blushed and hid a laugh behind his hand. “Like he said, we’re getting to know each other.”

“Bison,” a voice barked out, and all of them looked up. “Are you going to come get this plate or what?”

“That’s how I recognized the name!” Style said, slapping the table. “The pin I found in your car!”

Fadel froze upon seeing Style, looking more like a deer in headlights than Kant would have expected. The moment passed as Bison gave Style a questioning look, and Fadel’s expression turned to a scowl. “What’s this asshole doing here?”

“He’s friends with Kant,” Bison said.

“Of course he is,” Fadel said, but at least his tone was more disgusted than suspicious. 

“How do you know him?” Bison asked, which Kant was immensely grateful for, because it meant he didn’t have to. What pin? What was he forgetting? Or was this something he simply hadn’t known about?

“This was the prick who rear-ended my car because he was texting and driving,” Fadel said.

Kant suddenly remembered Style saying that when Kant had first introduced him to the concept of taking Fadel out. Even taken so off guard, he knew exactly what to say here to get Fadel to soften up. “You were texting while you were driving?” he asked Style, in an appalled tone. “Are you still a stupid kid?”

“Don’t you start,” Style protested. “I admitted it was dumb and I fixed his car up for him. Anyway, while I was doing that, I found one of those pins,” he said, gesturing to the one Bison had on his shirt. “That’s why the logo was familiar to me.”

Fadel huffed, slapped the plate down onto the table, and went back into the kitchen. Bison shook his head, laughing quietly. “You’re lucky he didn’t kick your ass. That car is his favorite possession.”

Kant started breathing again. If the interaction ended with Fadel being huffy and Style pouting because everyone had criticized his driving, then Kant wouldn’t have anything to worry about. “Seriously, are you sixteen? You should know better than to text and drive.”

“You don’t all have to be so mean about it,” Style grumbled.

Bison snickered and said to Kant, “Maybe you do have bad taste in men, if this is your best friend.”

“Hey!” Style protested, and both Bison and Kant laughed harder. “What does that say about you, then?”

“Oh, I definitely fit the trend,” Bison said. “I’m a terrible catch.”

“Don’t say that,” Kant said, snagging his wrist and pressing a kiss into Bison’s palm. “I don’t want to argue with you.”

Style laughed and started eating. “Damn, this is good. I might have to become a regular. Fadel’s the cook, huh? I love a man who can cook.”

“Watch yourself or you’ll end up getting cooked yourself,” Bison said, and then got up as another couple came in. He seated them with a smile and went to take their order to the kitchen.

Kant didn’t like the look in Style’s eyes, the speculative gleam as he looked at the door to the kitchen. “Style, don’t get any ideas,” he said.

“Who, me?” Style asked innocently.

Kant took a deep breath and forced himself to stay rational. “Look, can I be serious for a minute? I really like Bison. Genuinely. I know it’s only been a few weeks but I can see a future with him that I haven’t seen with any other guy in a really long time. I’m sorry if you’ve felt abandoned. But don’t do anything that might fuck this up for me. Okay?”

“I won’t!” Style said. “Cross my heart,” he added. “I just think Fadel’s hot, that’s all. He’s really mean. Like, he was totally a jerk when I was fixing up his car. If you like Bison and you’re willing to risk the world’s worst brother-in-law, then go for it.”

Relieved, Kant took a drink of his soda. “We’ll find a nice guy for you next, okay?”

“Don’t start,” Style said, laughing. “I get enough of my dad trying to set me up with every guy who comes to the garage between the ages of twenty and forty. You know I have to choose my own man.”

Kant laughed and shook his head, and they continued to chat while Style ate. Bison sat with them off and on when he had the chance, and when the restaurant closed, Style left without protest. Kant put up with Fadel’s glaring while they started cleaning up in the kitchen, until he seemed satisfied that they were actually going to do it and left. Kant was glad that he didn’t bring Style up again, or try to use Kant’s questionable friend as a reason why Kant shouldn’t be able to take Bison out. 

They washed the dishes and flirted and Kant waited while Bison changed so they could go to the bar. As he had remembered, Bison loved the vibe there. Kant got a bottle of the alcohol and said, “Be warned, she makes it strong.”

“Yeah? Do you think I can’t handle it?”

“Maybe,” Kant said, laughing even as he knew the exact opposite. Where the hell did Bison’s liquor tolerance come from? It was incredible that he could put so much away. “It’s not too late if you want a milkshake, you know.”

“Are you challenging me?” Bison asked.

“If you dare,” Kant said.

“I never turn down a challenge.”

Kant lifted his glass and said, “Let’s see who the last man standing will be, then.”

~ ~ ~ ~

Chapter Text

After a few drinks, Kant let go of some of his worries and resolved to just enjoy the evening. He couldn’t get too drunk, he knew. There was too much risk that he would accidentally let something slip if he lost his impulse control. But his liquor tolerance was also pretty high, trained into him by years hanging out with the wrong crowd. He could handle it.

“Let’s dance,” Bison said, so they did. They drank and danced and Bison told him random trivia about all manner of things, and Kant talked about different tattoos he had done and people he had met. They squeezed lime wedges into each other’s mouths and canoodled over the table more than was appropriate in a public space.

“You all right?” Kant asked, when Bison seemed pretty wasted.

“Fine,” Bison said. “This is nothing. I don’t even feel it.”

“I bet,” Kant said.

“The night’s still young,” Bison said, caressing his cheek. “Maybe we can pick up where we left off at your studio the other day.”

Kant felt his heart beat harder in his chest, his hormones automatically responding to those words and demanding he go along with this. “Babe’s got friends over tonight,” he said, but stopped short of offering to book a hotel. He had already said he didn’t want to use hotels since he was serious about Bison.

Bison leaned in and just barely brushed his lips over Kant’s. “Let’s go back to my place.”

“Are you sure?” Kant asked. “Won’t Fadel be pissed?”

“He won’t be home until late,” Bison said. 

Kant had a feeling that the reason why Bison wanted to go to his own place was because of the equipment he had there. That was probably why Bison had agreed to it the first time around, as well. Fadel might be pissed about it, but he certainly wouldn’t be as suspicious as long as Kant stayed in Bison’s bed where he belonged. “Okay,” Kant said. “If you’re sure.”

“Let’s get a taxi.”

“Okay,” Kant said, and took out his phone.

Twenty minutes later, they were at Bison and Fadel’s house. Bison was obviously drunk, but still coordinated enough to get them into the house and up the stairs. Kant had prepared himself for this, so seeing the wall of pictures of the northern lights didn’t bother him. He made a promise to himself for the hundredth time that this time, he would get Bison there.

“I’ve been waiting to have fun with someone like this for so long,” Bison said, as he tied down Kant’s wrists. Kant couldn’t help but admire the way Bison looked, the almost predatory anticipation on his face. Bison was breathing hard, his face flushed and pupils dilated. The first time he had been here, he had been nervous about what Bison was going to do. Now he was ready to give Bison anything he wanted.

It was different from how he remembered, in little, subtle ways. Bison was less drunk and hadn’t had the drugs which had clearly demolished his inhibitions. He was more careful, easing Kant into things gradually. It led to the same place, though - Kant tied down and blindfolded and practically overwhelmed with all the stimulus. Bison’s weight on his thighs, Bison’s teeth on his chest, the little sting of the whip whenever it hit his chest or his stomach. The way Bison trailed the end of it over his chest made his skin more and more sensitive, so when the snap of it actually came, it made him want to beg for more.

Bison pulled his pants off, then his underwear, and knelt between Kant’s legs, biting at his inner thigh. He bit hard, and it hurt, more than anything else had so far. Kant gasped, and he sensed hesitation in Bison, waiting to see if he had gone too far, if Kant would use the safe word.

Kant wasn’t sure himself. He opened his mouth, and what came out was, “Harder.”

Bison let out his breath in a rush, and just the feeling of the air on his cock made Kant groan. “Yeah? You like it?” Bison asked, and bit down in a different place, harder. Kant made another choked noise, and Bison rubbed his hands over Kant’s skin everywhere he could reach except where Kant most wanted them. “You like this?”

“Bison,” Kant managed, having forgotten any other words. He wanted Bison to hurt him. To cause him as much pain as he deserved for what he had done. He could handle any amount of pain if it made Bison happy. “Fuck,” he wheezed, as the whip came down hard. Bison alternated between kisses and bites, and Kant never knew which would come next. His hips arched and Bison pushed them back down. “Fuck, Bison, please. I need - I need - ”

Bison crawled back up Kant’s body and leaned in for a kiss, demanding and passionate. Kant moaned into it and tried to arch his hips again. He heard Bison fumbling for something, then felt Bison putting a condom on him. He had to bite his lips to avoid a whimper; he was already so sensitive, so close to the edge. “You ready?” Bison asked, and Kant gasped out an affirmative. Bison put his hands on Kant’s chest, pinching at his skin, and then sank down onto his cock.

“Oh, fuck ,” Kant bit out, his entire body trying to roll into it. Bison’s weight kept him pinned down, and Bison didn’t move for a long moment, leaving Kant desperate for any sort of friction. Then the whip snapped against his chest again, and it was almost too much. His hands clutched at the pillows above him. Bison’s breath was coming in short, sharp gasps. He rocked gently, barely, and brought the whip down again.

Kant lost himself completely, surrendering to the jagged rhythm of Bison’s body moving against his, interspersed with the snap of the whip. Every time he thought he knew what Bison was going to do next, Bison changed the pace. After an eternity suspended between pleasure and pain, Bison leaned down and bit down on Kant’s ear, and Kant came so hard that he blacked out.

He came around a few moments later to Bison gently patting his face. “Kant? Was it too much?”

“Unnnhhh,” Kant replied.

This apparently didn’t reassure Bison, for obvious reasons, and he sounded anxious as he said Kant’s name again and slid the blindfold off him. Kant blinked up at him hazily and saw the worried expression on his face. Too much? How could it ever be too much? Bison could do whatever he wanted to Kant. Now and forever. 

“That was . . . fucking awesome,” Kant slurred out, and saw the relief wash over Bison’s face. “Fuck. Was I not supposed to come first? I don’t know how that works.”

Bison laughed, and Kant managed to do a bit more self-assessment. Bison had rolled off him and was stretched out beside him now, his hands rubbing over Kant’s overly sensitized chest. “You can come whenever you want, but you have to help me come, too.”

“Yeah?” Kant tried to half sit up, then sank back against the pillows. “Don’t untie me yet. Can I suck you off?”

“Fuck, yeah,” Bison said, and hastily got a pillow that he tucked under Kant’s head, then grabbed a couple more until he could get Kant propped up a little better. He reached for the blindfold, then saw Kant’s face. “No?”

“I wanna see you,” Kant said. “You’re beautiful.”

“Okay,” Bison said, straddling Kant’s upper body and winding his hands through Kant’s hair. It was hardly the best position from which to give a blowjob, and Kant didn’t care at all, eagerly leaning forward for everything Bison would give him. Then Bison pulled back slightly and said, “Wait, I’m gonna untie one hand. You can’t safe word if you can’t talk.”

Kant whined slightly, because he didn’t want Bison to untie him, but on the upside, once one hand was untied, he could grab Bison’s ass. Bison laughed and said, “If you need me to stop, just slap my ass.”

“What if I want to slap your ass anyway?” Kant asked.

“Don’t. I only get to slap you when we do this. You don’t get to slap me,” Bison said, and rolled his hips towards Kant’s face. Kant managed to get his mouth around Bison’s cock, and let Bison position his head, holding onto him while he moved in small thrusts. His fingers dug involuntarily into Bison’s ass, and he relaxed his throat as he’d done dozens of times before, letting Bison in deeper. Bison moaned and twisted his hand into Kant’s hair, pulling hard. Kant just held on and let Bison fuck his mouth, not making any effort to be in control of the situation. Bison could do whatever he wanted to Kant. Now and forever.

“Oh, fuck,” Bison said in a ragged voice, and twisted his hand harder in Kant’s hair as he came, sending shivery spikes of pain through him. Kant squeezed Bison’s ass and drank down everything Bison gave him, wringing a shudder out of him before he pulled away and collapsed on the bed next to Kant.

Kant felt exhaustion crash over him in waves that couldn’t be fought. Bison leaned in and kissed him, long and languid and satisfied. Then Bison slumped down and rested his head on Kant’s chest, eyes closed. “Okay, g’night,” he mumbled, and Kant laughed quietly but then took a moment to fully enjoy the feeling of Bison’s weight on his body. Bison, whole and alive, sated and content. He would make sure Bison got to sleep like this for the rest of his life. After a few moments to revel in that, Kant fell asleep.

~ ~ ~ ~

Kant woke with something of a start, because Fadel opened the door without knocking and was halfway through his sentence by the time that Kant was fully aware. “ - almost noon and you’re still - seriously, Bison?” Fadel’s tone changed from mildly annoyed to fully aggravated. “Seriously?”

“What?” Bison mumbled, half sitting up. Then his gaze fell on Kant, in his bed, semi-conscious, one wrist still tied down. “Oh, right.”

“I leave you alone for one night- ” Fadel began, and then just snapped, “Downstairs. Now.”

“Fadel,” Bison whined, and saw he wasn’t budging. “Downstairs in ten minutes. Can’t you at least let me brush my teeth and put on some clothes?”

Fadel stomped out of the room without waiting for a reply, and Kant blinked up blearily at Bison. He was more hungover than he wanted to admit. His whole body was sore; his throat ached and his head was throbbing. “Fuck,” he mumbled.

“I’m sorry,” Bison said, untying his wrist and then rubbing his hand and forearm to bring feeling back into it. “I can’t believe I passed out without untying you. How are you feeling?”

“Sore,” Kant admitted, then said, “but it’s the hangover that’s really killing me. Fuck but that homebrew is strong.”

“Right?” Bison laughed. “I’ll get you a glass of water and some painkillers. Don’t try to move.”

“No problem.” Kant let his head fall back onto the pillows.

A minute later, Bison, now dressed in a tank top and boxer briefs, helped him sit up enough to drink some water and take the painkillers. He looked altogether too chipper, considering the circumstances, and Kant wondered where he got the world’s best alcohol tolerance from. He laid back and hummed in some contentment as Bison rubbed hands up and down his chest, lingering on some of the bruises. Kant was wondering if there was something he should say when Bison leaned in and gently pressed a kiss into his throat. “You’re so good,” Bison murmured right into his ear. “Last night was incredible. I hope you enjoyed it as much as I did.”

“A lot more than I thought I was going to, to be honest,” Kant said. “At first I was sort of like . . . this is what Bison likes, I can handle it, but by about halfway through I was . . . really into it.”

Bison kissed him, deep and thorough and passionate, and Kant twined a hand through his hair and sank into it. Then Bison pulled away, his whole face lit up with the world’s most beautiful smile. “I better go calm Fadel down. You just relax here.”

“Okay,” Kant said, but as soon as Bison had left the room, he sat up so he could finish drinking the water. He realized he needed to use the bathroom, and climbed out of bed, somehow locating his underwear in the mess and putting it on. He eased out of Bison’s bedroom and paused, hearing voices downstairs.

“ - so suspicious all the time!” Bison was saying. “We were a little drunk, I asked him to come over, we had sex, we went to sleep. He wasn’t snooping around.”

“And how do you know that?” Fadel retorted.

“I mean, I didn’t finish untying him before we fell asleep - ”

“I don’t need to know that!”

“Then don’t ask stupid questions! Watch the tapes if you want to make sure he wasn’t snooping.”

Kant winced, wondering if there were more cameras than the one he had noticed outside. He had made sure to avoid that one when he had broken in, but if there were cameras inside, that would explain how Bison had known of his betrayal.

“Lower your voice,” Fadel snapped, in a harsh whisper that Kant almost couldn’t hear. “I will watch the tapes, but that’s not the point. Can you not just do as you’re told? I told you I’d talk to Khun Mei. I told you that I would tell her that this would be your last job, but in exchange for that, until we finish it, you have to behave yourself. You agreed. That was two days ago and now you’re letting your fuckbuddy sleep in our house?”

“Well . . .” Bison’s tone suggested that he didn’t have a good argument for that. Kant, meanwhile, was fascinated with the larger implications. He had been right that Bison intended to stop working as a hitman. But more importantly, it was Fadel who had said he would talk to ‘Khun Mei’ about it. Why? Bison needing permission to leave the job didn’t completely surprise Kant, but why was Fadel going to talk to their boss, instead of Bison just talking to her himself?

Fadel groaned. “You’re hopeless, I swear. Get your hookup out of here and then you’re going to sit down with me and watch the tapes from the entire night so we can be sure - ”

Kant quietly backed into the bedroom, then left it again at a normal volume, making sure to jostle the door enough to alert them to his presence. He wanted them to think he was just exiting, and not making any effort to be quiet. When he walked to the edge of the balcony, they looked up at him, Fadel glowering. “Uh, bathroom?” Kant said.

“End of the hall,” Bison said, gesturing. “You can take a shower if you want. I’ll bring you a towel and some clean clothes.”

“Thanks,” Kant said, even as Fadel looked more exasperated than ever. Kant was fairly sure that this was partly because it was his clothing that Kant would need to borrow. He certainly wouldn’t fit into any of Bison’s.

Kant turned the water up hot and scrubbed himself thoroughly, examining the constellation of bruises on his chest, abdomen, and particularly inner thighs. Those were the most sensitive, and just looking at them gave him a boner as he remembered various parts of the particularly intense night.

There was a gentle knock and the bathroom door opened. “How about I scrub your back?” Bison asked, and he twitched the shower curtain aside. When he saw Kant, he laughed. “Looks like you’re ready for me.”

Kant could hardly argue with that, although Bison had clearly been joking, since he was holding a towel and a stack of clothing which he set down on the counter. “See what you do to me? Just looking at the bruises made me like this.” He gestured and said, “Are you going to take responsibility?”

Bison stripped his tank top over his head, shimmied out of his underwear in an obscenely attractive sinuous motion, and then got in the shower. He leaned up for a kiss, and Kant was happy to oblige him. They kissed over and over again while rubbing soapy hands over every inch of skin they could reach.

“Bison!” Fadel shouted from outside the door. “What part of ‘get your hookup out of the house’ sounded like ‘have sex with him in the shower’ to you?”

“He’ll leave sooner if you don’t interrupt us!” Bison shouted back, and Kant laughed harder than he meant to, which made his sore throat hurt worse. Snickering, Bison said, “Probably better to keep it quick,” and wrapped a hand around Kant’s cock. Kant kissed him again, and they kissed again and again while jerking each other off.

After a few minutes to recover, they managed to clean up, dry off, and get dressed. “I know we’re keeping it casual, but when will I get to see you again?” Kant asked.

“I’ll probably be grounded for a few days,” Bison said, laughing. “Fadel doesn’t like people in his space. He’s gonna make me scrub the floors at the restaurant. So not today. But I’ll text you.”

“Okay,” Kant said, and somehow managed to tear himself away.

~ ~ ~ ~

Despite Bison saying he wouldn’t be around for a few days, he turned up at the tattoo parlor the next day. Kant laughed and said, “What happened to being grounded?”

Bison shrugged. “Fadel’s always got his shorts in a twist about something. But I think he’s warming up to you a bit.”

Kant beamed at Bison and said, “See, I told you I could win him over if you gave me a little time.”

“Don’t get too excited,” Bison said. “Fadel going from ‘the iceberg that sank the Titanic’ cold to ‘blizzard in Siberia’ cold isn’t much of a milestone.”

“Kind of feels like it is,” Kant said, still grinning. Part of that was just because of how happy he was to see Bison again. But part of it was because he knew how differently this encounter was going from the last time. After catching him sneaking around the house, Bison had been wary and even a little intimidating as he had interrogated Kant about it. Kant could hardly blame him, of course. But now Bison was smiling and joking around and even Fadel seemed to not really be suspicious.

“What’s that stuff?” Bison asked, his gaze landing on the faux leather that Kant used to teach.

As before, they ended up sitting together while Kant showed Bison the basics of tattooing. He thought about Bison giving him a tattoo someday, and wondered what it should be. Maybe a penguin, he thought, and pressed a kiss into Bison’s temple. Maybe Bison would discover a love for tattooing and they could run the tattoo parlor together. Bison would need some sort of career once this was all over.

As before, Babe came in with bruises. This time, Kant noticed them, because he was looking for them. But he pretended he hadn’t, letting Bison point them out to him. There was no reason for any of this to go differently. Sure, Bison had gone a little apeshit when they had confronted the pedophile teacher, but there was nothing wrong with that in Kant’s opinion. So he felt no need to make any tweaks to the timeline he remembered.

Several hours later, after dealing with everything, they were back in Pink’s bar, although they both elected to just have a beer instead of the potent alcohol that was the house special, talking about what had happened. Bison had clearly enjoyed cutting loose a little bit, and said, “Babe’s lucky to have a big brother like you.”

Kant laughed. “If this had happened to you, I bet Fadel would have made hamburgers out of that guy.”

“Oh, Fadel wouldn’t even have to get involved,” Bison said. “If anyone tries anything with me, I’d never let them walk away free.”

“I bet you wouldn’t,” Kant said. 

“I’m just kidding!” Bison protested. “Do I look like I could hurt anybody?” he added, but fortunately continued before Kant had to come up with a reply to that. “Anyway, what you did today was totally awesome. Not only did you save your brother, but you probably saved other boys too. That makes you a hero.”

Kant’s gut churned. He couldn’t have felt further from being a hero, but he couldn’t say that to Bison. He went with the obvious reply. “I didn’t even notice Babe was being bullied. If you hadn’t told me, I wouldn’t have done any of this. So you’re a hero too.”

“You don’t have to notice everything,” Bison said. “That’s why you have a boyfriend like me.”

Kant felt like his heart was going to beat out of his mouth. “Oh, yeah? Boyfriend?”

Bison shrugged, rolling his shoulders. “You called me that so many times today, I guess I started to like the sound of it. What do you think?”

“All right,” Kant said, grinning. “Boyfriend.”

“Can I ask you a question, though?” Bison said, and Kant’s shoulders tightened despite his best efforts. But Bison didn’t ask what Kant remembered him asking. “Why’d you make that face when I said you were a hero?”

“Damn, sometimes you’re too perceptive,” Kant said, shaking his head.

“Is it because of what happened before? With your friend?”

Kant looked away and took a drink of his beer. “Back then, I . . . fucked up pretty badly. It’s hard to think of myself as a hero. Even if I do something that saves people, that helps people, I don’t know if I can ever make up for what happened.” He shook his head as Bison rubbed reassuringly at his knee. “Can I be honest with you, Bison?”

“Always,” Bison said.

“There are things about me . . . you don’t know yet. I want you to trust me but there are some things I’m not really ready to share with anybody about who I am. If that upsets you, I get it. I wouldn’t blame you.”

“I’m not upset,” Bison said. “I’m glad you were up front about it. There are things about me that you don’t know yet, too, that I’m not ready to tell you. I think that’s pretty normal, isn’t it? Everybody has secrets. I can be your boyfriend even if I don’t know everything about you. Just don’t lie to me. I hate liars more than anything else. If there are things you can’t tell me, that’s fine, but don’t lie to me.”

Kant nodded and lifted Bison’s hand to his mouth, kissing his knuckles. “I’ve told you exactly one lie since I met you,” he said, and saw Bison’s body tense. “And that’s that I get faint if I don’t eat enough. Which I told you because I was embarrassed that I was suddenly having a panic attack.”

Bison laughed. “Okay. Cool. I can let that one slide.”

“Want to stay at my place tonight?”

“Aren’t you worried about setting a good example for Babe?”

Kant blinked at him innocently. “Why would it set a bad example to have my boyfriend sleep over?”

“Okay,” Bison said, laughing harder. “Deal.”

~ ~ ~ ~

Chapter Text

Things were going well, but Kant knew he couldn’t relax completely, couldn’t lose focus. Bison was his boyfriend now. They were getting closer. Bison knew he had secrets and wasn’t upset by it. But he had to figure out the right time to tell Bison the full truth - or at least the truth about Chris. He wasn’t sure he would ever be able to tell Bison about the fact that he was doing all of this for the second time, after making the worst mistake of his life. He wanted to. Hiding things from Bison and lying to him had ruined everything the first time. But how could he? Bison would never believe a story like that. Or worse, Bison would believe it.

He pushed those thoughts away and focused on the matter at hand. He had to come clean about Chris before they made the attempt on Ruerat - which would theoretically be successful if Kant didn’t tell Chris about it. Kant luckily knew that exact date, because Babe had been invited to the charity event after receiving the scholarship. Kant would find some reason to keep him from going, and Bison and Fadel could kill Ruerat for all he cared. Chris would be pissed, but that was the least of Kant’s concerns.

That was three weeks away. Kant decided to let it ride as long as he could. He wanted as much time as possible for Bison to develop feelings for him, before saying anything.

“You have my heart now, so take good care of it,” Bison said to him, the day after they officially became boyfriends.

Kant lifted Bison’s hand to his mouth and kissed his knuckles. “I will. I promise. And you have mine, too.”

Bison smiled his beautiful smile, and kissed him, and Kant let himself breathe.

The next day, Kant met with Chris at the gym. He told him a completely fabricated story about how he had followed Bison to some underground bar and met with someone there. He even gave Chris a sketch of the imaginary person in question. If he could keep Chris chasing shadows, he would have more room to keep Bison safe.

He was so focused on making shit up for Chris that he was startled when James came into his tattoo parlor. He hadn’t exactly forgotten about the sequence of events with James, but had relegated it to some unimportance. Bison could kill James if he wanted; Kant was beyond the point of caring. He remembered Bison saying that James had been following them. Bison had clearly thought it was because James might somehow be aware of what he did for a living, but Kant knew better. James had stalked him on and off for years, and he was sure that knowing Kant now had a boyfriend had pissed James off.

So when James came in and said, “I need you to blacken a tattoo for me,” Kant had to take a deep breath and remind himself that the outcome of this was relatively unimportant in the grand scheme of things.

But he knew Bison was going to show up soon, and he wasn’t about to let James control this situation the way he had the first time. “Absolutely not. There’s hundreds of tattoo artists in the city. I’m not going to do anything for you.”

James went as if to sit down in the tattoo chair, and Kant blocked his way. That made James pout. “You’re the reason I have the tattoo to begin with. Aren’t you going to take responsibility for that?”

Kant grit his teeth. He had forgotten how much James pissed him off. “Let’s be clear on something,” he said, and saw motion behind the screen that separated the tattoo parlor from the rest of the apartment. The silhouette from the door opening and Bison coming in. “The fact that you got a K tattooed behind your ear after we slept together one time is not my fault. I was up front with you. I never led you on.”

“Oh, please,” James scoffed. “I thought what we had meant something - ”

“And I thought we were friends!” Kant retorted, letting some of his honest frustration with how things had ended with James come through. “I knew you had no one else and you needed help, and I helped you because I cared about you. I told you when we slept together that it didn’t mean anything. I realize now that it was a mistake and I shouldn’t have done that because you would inevitably read more into it, so whatever part I played in your misunderstanding, I’m sorry. But I told you that I wasn’t interested in you romantically, and the fact that you had someone else do that tattoo instead of me is proof that you believed me. Because if you hadn’t, you would’ve asked me to do it, but you knew I would refuse because of what the tattoo represented. 

“So the fact that you decided to get that tattoo and then use it to try to emotionally blackmail me into dating you, and then tell all our mutual friends that I’d done that tattoo for you and then dumped you is also not my fault. I know damned well that you just heard through the grapevine that I have a boyfriend now and you’re pissed off about it so you’re going to come in here and try to weasel your way back into my life. I’m not going to play this game with you, James.”

James folded his arms over his chest and said, “You said you weren’t looking for a boyfriend back when you refused to date me. Was that a lie?”

“No, for fuck’s sake, it wasn’t a lie. I wasn’t looking for a boyfriend back then, but that was a long time ago. Things change. And even if I had been looking for a boyfriend,” he added, “it wouldn’t have been you.”

“What makes this Bison guy so special?”

Kant’s jaw tightened. “You know, I could go on at length about Bison’s positive qualities but that’s not the point. Stay out of my business, James. Stop following me out on my dates. You think I hadn’t noticed? I was hoping you’d get the point and leave me alone but as usual, I have to be extra clear with you. If you’re at all grateful for all the help I gave you years ago, then let me live my life in peace with the person I choose to live it with.”

James sulked, but he turned and stalked out of the tattoo parlor, shouldering his way past Bison, who had presumably decided the fight was over so he should come in. Kant pushed both hands in his hair and didn’t bother to hide how aggravated he felt.

“So that’s the famous James,” Bison said, and he looked neutral, which Kant supposed was better than him looking angry. He had definitely looked angry the first time.

“Shit, how much of that did you hear?” Kant asked, then shook his head. “Never mind. It doesn’t matter. I’m sorry.”

“What are you apologizing for?” Bison asked.

Kant looked away. “I don’t know. I just don’t want you to misunderstand.”

“Then be honest with me,” Bison said. “What happened back then?”

With a sigh, Kant said, “James and I were friends. This was . . . four years ago, maybe. I was in with a rough crowd then and had just gotten out of a pretty bad relationship, the one that had basically made me decide I would just be single forever. James was down and out because of a lot of gambling debts. I met him at a sports betting club. We had some mutual friends and we hung out a lot. I had plenty of money so I helped him out a few times. One night we were bored and horny and he basically said he’d kill to get dicked down and I jokingly said ‘I’ll do it’. He said he would take me up on that offer.

“Back then I slept around a lot. I was on the rebound and very much not interested in relationships, and James knew that because we had talked about it multiple times before. But I wasn’t in a good headspace for a lot of different reasons, so I said okay, but just as friends, right? Friends doing each other a favor. He said sure, we banged it out. It was a mistake. I knew he had a bit of a crush on me but I didn’t take it seriously. He went and got a K tattooed behind his ear without telling me he was going to do it and started telling everyone we knew that we were boyfriends and he had ‘tamed the stallion’ or whatever.”

“Gross,” Bison said, his nose wrinkling.

“I told him to cut it out, it had been a one-time thing and we weren’t even dating, let alone boyfriends. I probably wasn’t as nice about it as I could’ve been because I was pretty upset with him. So then he told all our friends that I had dumped him after ‘talking him into getting the tattoo’. I got shunned by the whole group. Honestly, it might have been good for me in the long run, because I dropped out of that crowd afterwards, stopped gambling, and started to get my shit together. At the time, I was pretty pissed off about it. And now James just periodically shows up in my life to stalk me for a while, to remind me that I broke his heart and I’m a terrible person. He must have heard that I was dating someone seriously and started following me again.”

“Yeah, I think I saw him at White Rabbit last week,” Bison said.

Kant knew that Bison had known James was following them, but he didn’t know how often that had been happening or where Bison had noticed. So he didn’t want to get into detail, but just nodded and said, “I’m really sorry about him.”

“You don’t have to be sorry,” Bison said. “Everyone makes mistakes. And he sounds like a real dickhead.”

“Yeah, he kind of is,” Kant said, relaxing slightly.

“But why me?” Bison asked.

Kant frowned. “What?”

“You had decided to be single forever. So why did you ask me out? Why me instead of James?”

“I mean,” Kant said, wincing, “I don’t want you to be thinking ‘you instead of James’. It was never gonna be James, no matter what he tries to tell himself. James was a friend but he had a lot of baggage and he is, as you said, a real dickhead. I didn’t mind that in a friend but wouldn’t want it in a boyfriend. But if the question is just ‘why you’ after so long being single . . .” Kant thought about it, because this was a question he couldn’t answer without lying, and he didn’t want to lie. So he told a partial truth. “I think it was a little bit of fate.”

“How so?” Bison asked.

“When I woke up in that hotel by myself, there was a part of me that really regretted not getting your name and number. It was my usual practice, and seemed like yours, too, but damn.” Kant laughed quietly. “It was so good, you know? And then I ran into you again at the restaurant and it felt like the universe was trying to tell me something. Giving me a second chance. So I asked you out. And by the end of that first date?” Kant put his hand over his heart. “I was so damn glad I did. Because even after one date, I thought . . . maybe this could be something real. Something great. You’re cute and funny and you have lots of interesting stories. I enjoyed spending that time with you so much that I couldn’t stop smiling every time I thought about you afterwards.”

Bison was flushed faintly pink. “Damn. You’re a real sweet talker, you know that?”

“Well, I know you like sweet things,” Kant said, and that made Bison laugh. “Honestly, it surprised me, too. I hadn’t been serious about anyone in so long and really had figured I would just be single forever. If someone had told me last year that I would fall for someone so hard and fast, I wouldn’t have believed them. But I think you’re incredible for so many different reasons, Bison. I’m really glad that you’re my boyfriend.”

“I’m glad, too,” Bison said, and leaned in for a kiss. “Come on, let’s go out and do something fun. No reason to let that prick ruin our night.”

They headed to the arcade and fooled around there for a while before going back to Kant’s apartment. Their sex life was enthusiastic but complicated due to the restricted locations. Bison had laughingly agreed that they shouldn’t go back to his place ‘until Fadel calms down’, something that Kant didn’t see happening any time soon. Kant didn’t have an issue having sex at his apartment when Babe was home as long as they kept quiet and locked his door, but, well, sometimes it was hard to keep quiet when they were getting creative. So a lot of the experimentation they were doing was during the day, while Babe was at school, and at night they would either have vanilla sex - which was still amazing in Kant’s opinion - or just cuddle and go to sleep. 

The nightmares had gradually faded. Bison had only witnessed one, and had shaken Kant awake and said, “You were having a bad dream.” He didn’t seem to think anything of it. Kant supposed that everyone had bad dreams now and then. Nobody had startled him, and Bison hadn’t seen him have any more episodes. Kant felt like he had things handled. They had about a week left before Ruerat’s intended assassination. 

“Pick me up tonight, let’s go to White Rabbit,” Bison said, the day after James’ abrupt reentry and equally abrupt departure from Kant’s life.

“Sure,” Kant said, smiling at him. 

He went to the restaurant around eight thirty, and it was quiet, with just a few other people there. Bison slid into the booth across from him, grinning, and said, “Okay, I know we were going to go get a drink but do you want to do something even more fun?”

“More fun than getting drunk and having sex?” Kant laughed. “Sounds interesting. What’s up?”

“I want to see what Fadel is up to,” Bison said, and Kant blinked at him. “He said I could go out tonight after cleaning the kitchen, you know, same deal as last time, because he has ‘errands’ to do. But Fadel doesn’t do errands on Thursdays.”

Kant frowned. “Maybe he just moved his schedule around?” he suggested, but even as he said it, he doubted it.

“No, Fadel doesn’t do that, he always sticks to his routines,” Bison said. “He’s so meticulous about it. This is something new that he hasn’t done before. And he told me not to bring you back to the house, and I said I wouldn’t but then I asked if he’d be home and he said of course he would be. But like, he said it really fast. Suspicious stuff, right?”

Seeing that Bison was enjoying himself, Kant couldn’t help but smile. “Yeah, why bother to tell you not to bring me to your place if he was going to be there?”

“Right. I want to see what he’s doing. It’s probably something he doesn’t allow me to do, so I’ll get ammunition for later bargaining purposes.”

Kant laughed. “Okay, I’ll go with you. But when he catches us, because he will catch us, you’d better protect me.”

“Of course! He’ll know it was all my idea anyway,” Bison said, and then slid out of the booth with a wink as another customer came in.

Once the restaurant was closed, Fadel scowled his way through the usual lecture about making sure the place was spotless before he left. Bison gave him a minute, then gestured for Kant to follow him. “I’ll drive,” he said, snagging Kant’s keys from his hand. Kant was sure that Bison had practice at following someone without being noticed. He didn’t bother to point out that he had practice at that, too. Bison was having a good time on their little spy mission, and Kant was curious, too, about what Fadel might be doing.

“Huh,” Bison said, as Fadel’s car pulled into a parking lot. He pulled over on the street, seeming puzzled, and Kant looked at the bar that Fadel was now going into. “It’s just that heavy metal club he likes.”

“Is that strange?” Kant asked.

“Yes and no. I mean, he likes that club, he goes there a lot, but never on a Thursday. He goes Saturday nights because there’s live music and Tuesdays because the drinks are two for one for club members.”

Kant shook his head, smiling slightly despite himself. “And you’re sure he wouldn’t go there on a Thursday just because he felt like it?”

“Fadel doesn’t do anything because he ‘feels like it’,” Bison replied. “Fadel has every day of his life scheduled down to the fifteen minute block. If he’s doing this, he’s not going to the gym, and he always lectures me on not working out enough. There must be a reason why he changed things up.”

Kant was about to say something about how Bison didn’t need to work out because he was beautiful just the way he was, when he saw a familiar car pull into the parking lot and his heart skipped a beat in his chest. He bit back the panic that rose in his throat and said, “I think I see the reason.”

“Oh?” Bison frowned at where Kant was gesturing as Style got out of his car. “Oh! Is that your friend Style?”

“Yeah,” Kant said, taking a deep breath. He was going to kick Style’s ass for this. “I know he thought Fadel was hot, and said he had been fun to tease when Fadel went to get his car fixed up. He might have figured out Fadel goes to this club and started going here to meet him.”

“Holy shit,” Bison said, and he was grinning like an idiot. “You think Fadel actually likes him?”

“I have trouble seeing it,” Kant said, which was one hundred percent true. “But I don’t know your brother well enough to talk about his taste in men. Style’s bold and shameless and cocky as hell. Is that Fadel’s type?”

“No!” Bison said, laughing. “Or at least I didn’t think it was. You want to go in? No, let’s wait out here and see if they leave together.”

“Okay,” Kant said, trying to figure out how to handle this. It was possible that he was overreacting. He didn’t want Style anywhere near Fadel, but things weren’t going to play out the same way. He would come clean to Bison and tell him about how he had been putting Chris off by lying to him, and Bison might be upset but he wouldn’t be furious. Fadel might be, but Kant could say truthfully that he had told Style not to get involved. Whether or not Fadel would believe him, he didn’t know. But Fadel had genuinely liked Style. He would be reluctant to hurt him without good cause. Kant had to believe that.

An hour later, Fadel and Style left the club, together, in Fadel’s car. Bison followed them back to the garage. Kant wanted to bust in and ask Style what the hell he was doing, so he said, “You want to go in?”

“Hell no!” Bison said, driving by the garage without stopping. “If I cockblock Fadel he’s only gonna be more pissy. I’ll let him get laid and then hold it over his head that he told me I couldn’t have a boyfriend and now he’s banging Style. Let’s go back to my place.”

“Won’t that just make Fadel pissy?” Kant asked, amused despite himself. 

“Maybe, but I’ll tell him he can’t talk unless he wants to be a hypocrite.”

“He’ll say that him going out with Style isn’t the same as you bringing me back to your place. You know he will.”

“Oh, whatever. He’ll get over it. He likes you, you know.”

“What?” Kant laughed at this absurd statement. “No, he doesn’t. Maybe he doesn’t hate me anymore, but . . .”

“He does!” Bison laughed, too. “You know how I know? Because whenever I’m taking too long to do anything in my room, in the bathroom, wherever, he bangs on the door before he starts yelling at me. But when we were having sex in the shower, he didn’t. Why not?”

“How should I know?” Kant asked, but then realized that he did know, that he saw what Bison was getting at. “Wait. Really?”

Bison nodded, smiling fondly at Kant. “He knows that sudden loud noises trigger your PTSD, so he just shouted at us instead.”

“You don’t know that,” Kant said.

“Yeah, I do,” Bison said. “Fadel’s a creature of habit. He never changes routine without a reason. But just to be sure, after you left that day, I said to him, ‘you know, if you wanted us to stop having sex, you could’ve just banged on the door’ and he glared at me and asked what kind of a dickhead would do that.”

“Huh,” Kant said. “I really thought he hated my guts.”

“Oh, he did at first, absolutely,” Bison said. “But you know what? You were actually right, back at the beginning. Once he saw that you were treating me well, he decided he was okay with you. So let’s go back to my place.”

Kant decided he could worry about Style and Fadel tomorrow. “Whatever you say.”

But as much as he resolved not to borrow trouble, it occurred to him on the way into the house that this could be their last time together. The situation was becoming unstable. Style’s involvement wasn’t planned. He didn’t know the details, couldn’t predict how things would play out, and had very little control over it. That meant that one way or another, things were going to be changing soon.

So when Bison kissed him and murmured, “You want sweet or spicy?” Kant laughed and said, “Spicy.”

Bison pulled Kant’s shirt over his head. “Had I mentioned lately that I love your ass?”

“Yeah, but you could stand to mention it a little more,” Kant said. “You want to spank me?”

“How’d you guess?” Bison grinned and kissed him again, biting down on his lower lip, hard enough to hurt. Kant felt a shiver go down his spine. “How do you feel about bottoming?”

Kant was surprised, but answered honestly. “I tend to prefer being on top, but I’ve been on the bottom enough that I can take it like a champ if that’s what you’re in the mood for.”

Bison hesitated, then said, “I’ve never done it before. I just kind of want to try it.”

“Oh,” Kant said, feeling a swell of emotion that he wasn’t prepared for. They had tried all sorts of new things together, but Bison seemed uncertain about this. He was trusting Kant not to be judgmental if he wasn’t good at it on his first try. “Okay. Let’s do it.”

That was how he wound up on his hands and knees on the bed, his wrists tied to the bed frame. He leaned forward so he was putting his weight on his elbows and forearms instead of his hands, which felt more comfortable. Instead of the whip, Bison took out a riding crop, and Kant had to wonder where he had gotten all this stuff. Then he forgot all about it when the first smack landed on his ass.

Like with the whip, it wasn’t all pain. Bison tapped it lightly on his back, slowly drew it up and down Kant’s spine. Kant shivered and closed his eyes, waiting for the next swat. It stung across the small of his back, and he reveled in it. He didn’t understand how the pain could feel so good, but he didn’t really care.

It went on long enough that Kant was gripping at the pillows and biting his lips. Periodically, Bison put the riding crop down and just ran gentle hands up and down Kant’s skin, making him moan. He pressed kisses against Kant’s skin as it grew steadily more and more sensitive under the assault. Then, just as Kant would start to relax, he would start with the riding crop again.

By the time Bison got out the lube, Kant was dizzy from the intense mix of stimulus. He took a deep breath and tried to relax as Bison slid a finger inside him. It had been a long time since he’d been on the bottom, but it was like riding a bike, impossible to forget how to do. Bison took things slowly, spreading the lube and easing Kant open while he kissed and bit at Kant’s back.

“Oh, fuck,” Kant gasped, straining back against Bison as he hit the right spot. His hips jerked slightly, and he could hear Bison breathing hard behind him. Kant rested his forehead against the pillow and held back a groan as Bison thrust into him. “Fuck, Bison - ”

“Easy,” Bison said, not moving, other than his hand coming around to pinch at one of Kant’s nipples. Kant made an undignified noise. Bison rewarded him by leaning forward to kiss the back of his neck, then mouth at his ear, and Kant thought he might pass out. Then Bison started moving again, slowly at first, but quickly picking up speed. Kant held onto the pillows for dear life, letting go of all pretense of control, no longer thinking, only feeling. Bison shuddered behind him, and then wrapped a hand around Kant’s cock, stroking not at all gently. Kant choked out a whimper and came almost immediately. Bison only moved for a few more moments and bit down on the back of Kant’s neck.

Kant was a little overwhelmed, breathing hard and trembling as Bison untied him and helped him lie down. For no particular reason that he could name, he curled up with his head in Bison’s lap, unable to have a coherent thought. Bison stroked his hair and caressed his face. “You’re incredible,” he said softly. “I love you so much. How are you feeling?”

It took a minute for Kant to be able to figure out the answer to that question. “A little - shaky.”

“It’s the adrenaline,” Bison said, gently rubbing his hand down Kant’s arm. “Just try to relax. I’m right here with you.”

Kant nodded and focused on breathing. He’d felt unsteady after his sessions with Bison before, but this one had been particularly intense. A few moments later, he managed, “It was good. I enjoyed it. It was just - a lot.”

“Yeah, it was,” Bison said, with a sound that was almost a laugh. “Are you thirsty?”

“A little, but - I don’t want you to let me go yet,” Kant said.

“Okay,” Bison said. “We can stay like this as long as you need to. Whatever you need from me, just let me know.”

Kant nodded and said, “I’m a little cold.”

Bison drew a blanket up and tucked it around Kant’s shoulders, and Kant was finally able to relax, letting Bison continue to soothe him. It felt almost as good as the sex had felt, to have those gentle touches, kisses and caresses, proof that Bison loved him. He let out a content sigh, and Bison said, “Better?”

“Uh huh,” Kant said, and opened one eye. “Do I have to go before Fadel gets home?”

“Not even Fadel could make me let you go right now,” Bison said, and Kant smiled despite himself. “You can stay the night. It’s fine.”

“Mmkay.” Kant stayed in Bison’s lap until he had steadied out, and the adrenaline crash seemed to be over. Then he was able to sit up. Bison got him a glass of water, and Kant decided he wanted a shower. Bison insisted on going with him, just to help him clean up, and they curled up in bed together afterwards. Kant pressed his face into Bison’s neck and prayed that it wouldn’t be their last time together.

He slept restlessly, despite the vigorous activity and the amazing orgasm. He dreamed of the beach, and woke up when Bison gently shook him awake. “Bad dreams?” Bison asked, and Kant nodded. “You want to talk about it?”

“Not really,” Kant said, and Bison accepted that.

He woke again near dawn, and didn’t fall back to sleep. He lay awake, thinking, until Bison began to stir. He yawned and stretched, and Kant took a moment to appreciate his truly adorable bed hair. Then Bison’s stomach growled, and Kant laughed and said, “Let’s get up. I’ll make you breakfast.”

~ ~ ~ ~

Chapter Text

Kant and Bison were in the kitchen, drinking coffee while Kant made omelets, when the front door opened and Fadel came in. He saw the two of them and scowled, immediately saying, “I told you not to let him come over.”

“You also told me you’d be home!” Bison said brightly, and Fadel sighed. “Did you have fun at Style’s?”

“You’re such a little shit, Bison, you know that?” Fadel asked, and Kant ducked his head to hide a smile. “Did you follow me?”

“Uh huh,” Bison said, without shame. “Do you like him?”

“It’s not your business if I like him.”

“Ooh, that’s a yes,” Bison said, wiggling excitedly in his seat. “If you didn’t like him, you would’ve just said that. What do you like about him?”

“I’m not having this discussion in front of him,” Fadel said, gesturing to Kant.

“Is this where you remind me that I’m not allowed to have a boyfriend, despite the fact that you’ve got one?”

“Style’s not my boyfriend,” Fadel scoffed. “I just can’t get rid of him, that’s all.”

“Yeah, that sounds like Style,” Kant said, amused despite himself.

“We should go out on a double date,” Bison said.

Fadel folded his arms over his chest and said, “I can think of few things I would enjoy less than going out on some cutesy double date with you and this punk.”

Bison just grinned at him, which was how they all ended up at the bowling alley that night. Style saw Kant and Bison and immediately lifted his hands in surrender. “Okay, I know you told me that if I went after Fadel, it might mess things up for you and Bison, but look at him, Kant. How was I supposed to resist?”

“I’m pretty sure he gave you every signal in the book that you should resist,” Kant said, and Fadel gave a snort.

“What can I say? I’m persistent,” Style said, grinning at Fadel, who sighed but didn’t dignify that with a response. “Anyway, it worked out, right? You were afraid that Fadel would find me so obnoxious that he would use that as a reason you couldn’t date Bison, but he fell for my charms - ”

“Stop talking,” Fadel said.

“Were you really worried about that?” Bison asked, laughing.

“Yes?” Kant said. “Fadel already didn’t like me because I had the nerve to hit on his baby brother - ”

“True,” Fadel said.

“ - and he clearly thought that my taste in friends is very questionable as soon as he found out Style and I are besties - ”

“Also true,” Fadel said.

“ - so if Style made him any more pissed off than he already was, I thought he might lock me in a closet somewhere and then tell you that I’d died or something.”

Fadel scowled at him and muttered, “If only I had thought of that sooner.”

Bison snickered and leaned in to thump his shoulder against Fadel’s. “He’s secretly a big softie. But I guess it works out.”

“I’m going to go get enough alcohol to survive this evening,” Fadel said, and departed the table.

Despite his worries, Kant ended up having a good time. It was genuinely enjoyable to watch Style flirt and tease Fadel, who put up with it with a long-suffering air but occasionally smiled if he thought no one was looking. Kant was glad to see Style happy, too, and they chatted about it briefly while the brothers bowled a round. “I just like him, you know?” Style said. “I like his rough romantic side. He’s been taking care of other people his whole life and I kind of want to be the one who takes care of him.”

“Damn, that’s disgusting,” Kant said, laughing.

“Give me a break,” Style said, punching him in the shoulder. “Bison could step on you and you’d thank him.”

“And ask for another,” Kant said, and Style pretended to gag.

Bison, for his part, was clearly over the moon to see Fadel begrudgingly put up with Style in a way that, as far as Kant could tell, meant that Fadel was head over heels for him. He didn’t say much about it, but he kept his teasing to a minimum, letting Fadel have fun without commentary. Kant remembered Bison saying that he wanted Fadel to be able to loosen up and have some fun. Part of that was so he would stop trying to micromanage Bison’s life, but it was clear that part of it was also because he just wanted the best for his brother.

Kant relaxed and let himself enjoy it, because he knew the chance might never come again. His mood soured when his phone rang and he saw that Chris was calling him. Undoubtedly, he had tried to follow up on one of the imaginary leads that Kant had fed him and was pissed off that it hadn’t gone anywhere. Kant rejected the call and slid his phone into his pocket.

After a lot of alcohol and several rounds of karaoke, which Fadel refused to participate in, Kant took Bison back to his place. They made love and went to sleep. The next morning, they had breakfast with Babe, who was always happy to chat with Bison, before Bison left to work at the restaurant.

Almost as soon as he was gone, Kant’s phone rang again. He sighed and answered it. “Yes, Captain.”

“Are you fucking with me?” Chris asked.

Kant winced. “What?”

“If you don’t intend to actually do the job I gave you, stop wasting my time,” Chris said.

“I take it that you can’t find the guy Bison met with at the bar?” Kant said, as if that was a real person. “And now you’re going to take that out on me as if I didn’t risk my life by following him?”

“Don’t get smart,” Chris said.

“What do you want from me, Captain? I’m doing my best, okay? You know I’m not actually an undercover cop and I have zero relevant training on this, right? It’s barely been two months. How long does it normally take to infiltrate a ring of hitmen and get information on the boss? Because I can’t believe I’m doing as bad a job as you seem to think I am. You want to push me to take more risks and I’m just not going to do that. I have my brother to look after. Bison and I are dating, he likes me, even Fadel is warming up to me a bit. I’ve pushed a little about some of their more unusual behavior but Bison always just brushes me off. And no, before you ask, I haven’t managed to get into their house yet. I’ve asked a couple times but Bison says Fadel doesn’t like other people in his space and we can just book a hotel if we can’t go back to my place.”

“They haven’t done a job for a while,” Chris said. “I think they’re planning something big.”

Kant thought about the upcoming assassination of Ruerat and had an idea. That was now less than a week away, at the charity event which was on a Friday night. “I asked Bison if he wanted to go out this Saturday to go to the street racing scene; I told him I knew people there and he said it sounded cool. But he said he couldn’t, that he’d be busy at the restaurant. He has to know that the races don’t start until after the restaurant closes. I didn’t push him on it, but maybe he’s got other work on Saturday.”

“Maybe,” Chris said. “That’s a few days away. Find a way into that house and see if you can find anything on who their target might be.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” Kant said, hoping he could find some other event with some other prominent businessman or politician so he could steer Chris away from Ruerat. He hung up and flopped facedown on the sofa, trying to gather his thoughts.

He knew his time was up. He had done everything he could do to make things right. Now he had to come clean to Bison before it was too late, before he lost control of the situation. He couldn’t risk even a few more days now that Fadel and Style were dating. It might not make a difference, but it might. And he couldn’t stop it now that it had started. He certainly couldn’t talk to Fadel, no matter how much fun Bison was having teasing him. And what could he say to Style? He could try to warn him away from Fadel, but it wouldn’t work. If he said to Style ‘Fadel is dangerous’, Style would probably just get even hornier for him. But he didn’t dare tell Style the truth. He just didn’t know how he would react.

So he had to move forward. Even with everything he had done to avoid a negative outcome, the idea of it was terrifying to him. 

“You don’t look so great,” Bison greeted him when he came over after the restaurant closed, and pressed his hand against Kant’s forehead.

Kant gently pulled it away. “Yeah. Kind of had a rough day.”

Bison leaned in for a kiss. “Want me to make it better?”

“I do, yeah, but . . . not in the way you’re thinking,” Kant said, and saw the worry on Bison’s face. “I have to tell you some of that stuff that I wasn’t ready to talk about before. I’m still not sure if I’m ready to talk about it, but . . .” Kant shook his head and went to the refrigerator to take out a couple of beers. Babe was staying at a friend’s house; they had the place to themselves. “Before I say anything else, I want to tell you how much I love you. I love you with my whole being. And I won’t blame you if you’re upset with me but I just want to be able to be completely honest with you.”

For obvious reasons, Bison was looking apprehensive. “So do that, before you give me a heart attack.”

Kant let out a breath and nodded. “A while back, before I had gotten my life together, the cops caught me stealing cars. They were going to send me to prison and then Babe wouldn’t have anyone to look after him. So I cut a deal. I worked as a police informant for a few years.”

Bison’s eyes went wide, and then his face shifted to painful neutrality. “You were a narc?”

“Yeah. Were. I need you to understand how important that past tense was. I hated doing it but I couldn’t leave Babe alone. I helped them collar a few fences for stolen parts, drug dealers, even one guy who was involved in human trafficking. I was done with it. The police captain even told me I was done. All my cases got closed without an official arrest. That was well over a year ago.”

“Okay,” Bison said, still very cautious.

“I met you by chance. I swear that to you, Bison. I didn’t approach you because the cops asked me to. And I don’t know - ” Kant looked away, his throat tight and aching. “I don’t know if you’ve done what the cops say you’ve done.”

Technically, it was true. He knew what Bison could do. But the murders that the cops wanted to arrest him for, Kant didn’t actually know if he had carried them out. The technicality was thin, but it was there.

“Shit,” Bison said, pushing a hand through his hair. He turned away and started pacing back and forth. “Shit, what did they tell you? Never mind, I know what they told you. Fuck!”

Kant swallowed hard and kept going, ruthlessly forcing back the fear that bubbled up at seeing Bison’s agitation. “This police captain, he found out we’re dating and he keeps pressuring me. He says he’ll reopen my cases and send me to prison if I don’t get him information on you. I’ve been putting him off for a while now. I haven’t told him anything about you, or about Fadel. I promise. I’ve even lied to him, made some shit up to try to get him off my case. But he won’t back off, and I don’t know what to do. Whether you’re a criminal or not, I figured you should know that the cops think you are. And I just - I love you, Bison. I really, genuinely do. In a way I didn’t think I could love anyone. I don’t know what to do and I can’t leave Babe alone and I’m - ” Kant looked away and choked the word out. “I’m frightened.”

“Of me?” Bison demanded.

Kant closed his eyes, feeling tears stinging at them. His chest ached with remembered pain. He would never be able to explain this fear to Bison. “A little, yeah.”

Bison groaned. “Why the fuck didn’t you tell me sooner? You should have told me as soon as the cops started bullying you.”

“I - ” Kant folded his arms over his stomach to hide the fact that his hands were shaking. “I know. But I know that - you won’t want to have anything to do with me now. I was trying to figure out some other way out of this so I wouldn’t lose you.”

“For fuck’s sake- ” Bison slapped his hand against the table.

Kant flinched. His throat felt tight and sore. It was getting hard to breathe, and he barely managed to choke out the words, “I’m sorry. I know you’re angry but - ”

“You’re damn right I’m angry!” Bison shouted, but then saw the look on Kant’s face, the tears sliding down his cheeks, the way he was breathing, light and rapid and desperate, one hand pressed against his chest. “Fuck. I’m sorry - I didn’t mean to - ”

“I think I’m going to pass out,” Kant mumbled, and Bison grabbed him as he stumbled. He ended up sitting in his tattoo chair, head between his knees, while Bison rubbed his back. Gradually, his breathing returned to normal. He felt his face flush with shame. “I’m sorry,” he said again. “You have a right to be angry with me. I should have told you right away. The fact that I’m all fucked up like this doesn’t mean you shouldn’t be able to be pissed about this.”

“I’m not going to hurt you, okay?” Bison said. “Yeah, I’m pissed as hell but this isn’t your fault. Just take another minute to breathe.”

“I’m sorry,” Kant mumbled again. “I don’t want to be scared of you. I really don’t.”

Bison crouched down in front of him. “You really love me, Kant? It’s not a lie or an act to fool me? Do you promise?”

Kant nodded. “I swear. I love you so much.”

“Then you don’t have anything to be afraid of,” Bison said, and wrapped his arms around Kant. Kant sagged into his embrace, unable to resist. “Yeah, I’m upset, I won’t say I’m not, but I know it can’t have been easy for you to tell me all this. You don’t have to be scared of me, okay? I wish you had told me sooner but I get why you didn’t, and what’s important is that you did tell me and no real damage was done. We’ll figure out what to do.”

“Okay.” Kant pulled back and wiped his eyes with shaking hands. He took a deep breath and felt some equilibrium returning to him. The worst part was over now. “Honestly, I’ve been a real mess about it ever since that asshole cop showed back up in my life.”

“I bet,” Bison said. He got Kant a bottle of water and helped him take a sip. “I don’t get it, though. Even knowing . . . what I really do for a living, you still want to be with me?”

Kant pushed a hand through his hair. “I’ve got questions,” he admitted. “Honestly, a lot of them. But I know you, Bison. I know that if you’re killing people, it’s for good reasons. I knew you had secrets and I fell in love with you anyway. You make me so happy.”

“And you haven’t told the cops anything?”

“I’ve made some shit up to tell them, but I haven’t told them anything true. Like I said I followed you one night and you met some rando at a sleazy bar. They want to know who your boss is and I told them that I don’t think you know, that only Fadel knows. Maybe that’s true, maybe it isn’t, I don’t know. I just told them whatever I thought would get them off my back for a while.”

“Okay.” Bison rubbed a hand over the back of his neck. “Okay. Let’s go talk to Fadel.”

Kant winced. He had hoped, foolishly, that Bison would want to hide this from Fadel since Fadel was sure to be pissed about it. He had known better, deep down, because Bison’s first loyalty was to his brother. “Are you sure he won’t - ”

“Kill you?” Bison interrupted.

“Be upset,” Kant finished lamely.

“He’s gonna be pissed as hell. But I won’t let him hurt you.”

Kant nodded, letting himself breathe. Bison was upset, but he had known that Bison would be upset. The worst part was over. Now he just had to figure out what to do going forward. “Okay. I really am sorry. I just didn’t know what to do.”

His hands were shaking as he got behind the wheel of his car, to the point where he wasn’t really sure if he should be driving. Bison didn’t notice, though. He was deep in thought, chewing at his lower lip. “Do you know how the cops found out about us?”

“I asked Captain Chris that. He said you had a job under a fake name at a few places where people turned up dead, and that you always stopped showing up afterwards.”

“Ugh, my cute face is just really too memorable,” Bison muttered, and Kant tried to laugh but choked on it. “I guess I should hold onto my questions so you don’t have to repeat everything in front of Fadel. He’s going to grill you until you’re burnt.”

“That’s . . . metaphorical, right?” Kant said.

“He’s not going to put you on an actual grill, Kant,” Bison said, shaking his head. “I said I won’t let him hurt you. Just let me do the talking at the beginning. Then give Fadel as much detail as you can, and let him ask all his questions. After that . . .”

Bison’s voice trailed off. Kant’s chest felt like he had an anvil sitting on it. He managed to squeeze out, “After that?”

“Fadel and I will need to figure out what our next move should be,” Bison said. “The cops are onto us, so we have to be careful. It means new identities, a new cover, new everything.”

Kant knew what he wasn’t saying. “And it means we won’t be able to see each other anymore.”

“Not for a while, at least,” Bison said. “We’ll have to lie low until the dust settles. Fadel will definitely insist that I never see you again, but . . . I’m not going to give you up that easily.”

That made some of the weight ease off Kant’s chest, enough for him to breathe again. “I’ll wait for you. If you’ll forgive me for what’s happened so far, I’ll wait for you as long as I need to.”

Bison finally smiled, for the first time since Kant had started talking, and said, “Thanks.”

Unsurprisingly, Fadel wasn’t pleased to see them at the house, and barked out, “What is he doing here?”

Bison was prepared for this, however, and said, “He’s here to warn us about how the cops are onto us.”

Fadel blinked. “What?”

“The cops. They’re trying to pressure him for information because they put together how many times I’ve had a job at a place like a massage parlor right before someone turns up dead. He hasn’t told them anything, don’t worry. He came to me to tell me what was going on, so we can handle it together. Okay?”

Fadel’s jaw was tight and unhappy, and he stared Bison down. “And you believe him? That he hasn’t told them anything?”

“I mean, we’re not arrested, so yeah,” Bison said. “Fadel, come on. If he was going to betray us, why even tell me that the cops are pushing him?”

There was no good argument for that, and Fadel clearly didn’t like it but he was keeping a lid on how pissed off he was. “Why are you talking to the cops at all?”

“Will you let him tell you? Start at the beginning and go over everything with you, and you won’t get pissed at him? This isn’t his fault, Fadel.”

“This is why I didn’t want you dating anyone to begin with,” Fadel snapped.

“Yeah, I get that, but at the same time, it doesn’t really matter,” Bison said. “If the cops put that much together without help, they would have eventually come for us anyway. Kant is the lever they’re trying to pull, but there are other ways they could have done it. You started dating Style and you didn’t even tell me, so maybe get off your high horse.”

“Bison, we want him to not be pissed at us,” Kant muttered.

Fadel scowled but waved this aside. “Fine. You can start at the beginning, but before you do that, do we need to move immediately?”

“No,” Kant said. “I haven’t told them where you live so I don’t think they know. They know about the restaurant but they knew that before they approached me. And they don’t want to arrest you because they want me to figure out who your boss is and tell them that. Right now I think I’ve done a decent enough job stringing Cap along that he thinks I’m cooperating, so he won’t make a move.”

“Let’s go get a drink, okay?” Bison said, and Fadel was still frowning, but he nodded. They went to the little kitchen area with the bar, and Bison poured Kant a generous shot, which he knocked back before taking a deep breath. 

He started at the beginning. Being young and broke and needing money to take care of Babe. Making friends at the street racing scene and getting into cars, and from there, into car theft. Running with a bad crowd and making a name for himself and eventually getting caught and cutting a deal.

Vibrating with fury, Fadel said, “So you’ve been a narc this whole time - ”

“No, I haven’t been!” Kant retorted. Bison squeezed his wrist and he fought for composure. “I was done. I held up my end of the deal. The police closed all my cases. That was over a year ago. I never wanted to talk to the damned cops again. When I first met Bison, first approached him - I wasn’t an informant then. I was just a tattoo artist who saw a cute guy and wanted to get to know him better.”

Fadel was clearly pissed, but he backed off. “Fine. Keep talking.”

“A few weeks ago, Captain Chris called me and had me go down to his office,” Kant said. He was fudging some details here, and hated that, but there was only so much he could say. “Apparently after you two killed the mob boss at the massage parlor, they got onto the fact that Bison had worked at a lot of places where a body dropped, and then quit right afterwards. They put surveillance on him and saw him at Heart Burger. Then they saw me at Heart Burger with him. Chris called me in, showed me a picture, and told me to keep getting close to you and find out who you worked for. I told him to fuck right off. He told me that if I didn’t cooperate, he would reopen my closed cases and put me in prison. I’d go to prison if I had to, I broke the law, I get it, but I can’t leave Babe alone. I’m all he has. So I told him I would figure something out.”

“And what did you figure out?” Fadel asked.

“Honestly, at first, I thought he had to be wrong,” Kant said. “I told him that. I told him that I didn’t see any evidence that Bison was involved in that sort of thing. But . . .”

“But?” Fadel asked, scowling.

“Chris has never been wrong before. And beyond that . . . your behavior is kind of suspicious, you know? Not letting Bison have his boyfriend at the house, hell, not wanting to let Bison have a boyfriend at all. There’s protective older brothers and then there’s whatever’s going on with you. I’ve been at Heart Burger often enough to know that it doesn’t do much business. You wouldn’t be able to keep it open if you didn’t have some other source of income. Bison was so easygoing about the fact that I used to be a car thief, that I ran with a bad crowd, that I have PTSD because someone was shot in front of me - I’ve never told anyone that, not even Style, because I knew he’d freak out. But you two just took it in stride, like yeah, that happens sometimes. One or two of these things might be nothing but all of them together? Yeah, I was pretty sure that Chris was right. And I looked at the list of victims he said were related. High-profile criminals, sleazy politicians, exploitative businessmen - it’s pretty clear to me that you two are killing awful people. So that doesn’t really bother me.

“I didn’t know what to do so I stalled for time while I tried to figure out my next move. I made up random stuff to tell him. I hoped that he would give up if I didn’t turn up anything useful. But he’s pushing me damned hard. I realized I had to tell you. Because I love Bison. I really do. I don’t want the cops to arrest him. If that means I go to prison, okay, I’ll figure something out.”

“What about Style?” Fadel asked.

Kant shook his head. “He doesn’t know anything about this. He knows that I used to be a narc - I talked to him about it while all that was going on - but he also knows that I stopped doing that over a year ago. I didn’t tell him anything when Chris called me back up. Honestly, I told him to stay away from you because I was afraid he’d somehow piss you off and you’d stop letting Bison see me. But that was for ‘I really want to keep dating Bison’ reasons, not ‘police informant’ reasons. I swear to you, Style isn’t involved and he doesn’t know anything.”

Bison looked at Fadel, and he seemed anxious but in control. “What are we going to do?”

“We’re not going to have that discussion in front of him,” Fadel said, gesturing to Kant. “Get out.”

“Can’t I stay until you decide?” Kant asked. “You can put me in the trunk of my car for all I care. Just don’t leave me entirely out of the loop.”

Fadel looked at Bison, saw the expression on his face, and sighed. “Tell me everything you told the cops. If you accidentally made up something and it turned out to be true, we need to know that. And whatever lies you told them might come in handy as well.”

Kant nodded and did so. He hadn’t kept notes, since he couldn’t risk Bison finding them, so he was a little fuzzy in places. But he had the basics, and from the way Fadel had relaxed slightly and didn’t tense back up, he apparently hadn’t told the cops anything that might matter. Nothing about their boss, nothing about their next target. He had been careful.

“Bison,” Fadel said, and Bison jerked to attention. “Lock him in your room and then we can talk.”

Bison nodded and got a hand around Kant’s elbow, drawing him to his feet. He realized how badly he was shaking as Bison tugged him up the stairs. They got into his room, and he saw the pictures of the northern lights, and his chest ached. But then Bison pulled him into an embrace and squeezed him tightly. “Are you really okay with the fact that I’ve killed people?”

“I’m . . . it’s hard to see it, honestly,” Kant said. “But you do it because they’re bad people, right?”

“Yeah. But . . . I don’t like doing it. I never have. I never wanted to.” Bison looked away. “There’s too much to talk about right now, but I told our boss this would be my last job. I wanted to just be a normal person, to be able to love you and be honest with you. So let me and Fadel take care of this, okay?”

Kant nodded and said, “Okay.”

“Wait here. It might be a while. But I promise we’ll get everything figured out.”

Kant nodded again, and Bison eased out of the room. Kant heard the lock click and sprawled backwards onto Bison’s bed, closing his eyes. The worst part was over. Bison still wanted to be with him. Even Fadel wasn’t that upset - he was pissed, sure, but since Kant had warned them they were in danger, he would get past it. The fact that Kant was here, in Bison’s room, rather than locked in the trunk of his car was proof of that. They would figure out the rest of it together.

Well over an hour passed. Kant actually dozed off. He hadn’t slept well for several nights, and he was exhausted. But he snapped awake when the door opened and Bison came back in. He looked serious, but not worried, and said, “We’re moving out, so you have to go now.”

Kant nodded. “When will I see you again?”

“I don’t know. There are some things we have to take care of. Here’s what you need to do. Go home and call this cop. Tell him we had a date tonight and I seemed edgy, nervous about something, but wouldn’t tell you what. Then wait a few days and tell him you can’t get in touch with me. I’ve ghosted you. The restaurant is closed, the house is empty. Something must have spooked us - something totally unrelated to you and therefore not something he can blame on you, and hopefully won’t put you in prison over.”

“Okay.” Kant felt his chest loosen. “Yeah, I think he’ll buy that.”

“We have things to take care of on our end. Once we’ve straightened it out, I’ll contact you. But it’ll be a few weeks or even months. The cops might watch you, too, so keep an eye out for them.”

Kant nodded again. As much as he didn’t want to be separated from Bison, a few months might not be a bad thing. In a few months, Babe would graduate from high school, go off to uni, possibly even leave the country. If Kant needed to uproot his whole life to go on the run with Bison, that would be a lot easier in six months than it would be now. “Can I - ask a few questions?”

“I can’t promise that I’ll be able to answer them, but you can ask me anything.”

“You said you never wanted to be a hitman. Why did you start, then?”

Bison shook his head. “Let’s just say I owe a debt.”

Kant thought again about Bison’s murdered parents, about ‘Khun Mei’. “Are you sure your boss will let you go?”

“She already said it was okay,” Bison said. “She said once we finish this job, I can quit.”

“A certain police captain told me once that I had done my last job for him,” Kant said, “but he never intended to let me go.”

Bison looked away uneasily. “This is different.”

“Just be careful,” Kant said. “Please.”

“I will be,” Bison said. “Fadel won’t let anything happen to me. He’s always looked after me.”

Kant wondered if Fadel was going to keep being a hitman. He couldn’t help but notice that Bison had used the singular pronoun when he said he was quitting. But in the end, he didn’t ask. That was none of his business. “Is Fadel going to talk to Style?” he asked, and Bison grimaced. “I know, but Style is my best friend. If Fadel is just going to ghost him, I need to know what you and Fadel want me to tell him. Because he won’t believe a little white lie, I don’t think.”

“I think . . .” Bison let out a breath. “You can tell him that we’re criminals, just not what we do. Tell him the truth, that the cops found out we were dating and tried to force you to be an informant again, you tipped us off so we could get out of dodge. I’ll tell Fadel to call him, but I don’t know if he will.”

“Okay.” Kant took a moment to steady himself. “I think that’s all my questions. I’m going to miss you like crazy. I get why we can’t see each other for a while, but . . . I’m going to be thinking about you every minute. You have to stay safe, okay?”

“I’m gonna miss you, too,” Bison said. “You’re the first person I’ve ever met who made me feel like . . . there might be more than this life for me someday. I’m not going to give that up. So don’t worry about me.”

Kant nodded, and Bison hugged him tightly for a long minute, then walked him down to his car. “I’ll see you soon,” Kant said, and Bison squeezed his hand before letting go. Bison went back into the house, and after a minute, Kant forced himself to get into the car and drive away.

Rather than going straight home, he went to the nearby temple. He still wasn’t sure what deity was responsible for his second chance, but wanted to take the opportunity to thank them. He hadn’t wasted it. He had done things right. Bison was upset, but he and Fadel would take care of things. He would spend the rest of his life taking care of Bison and making up for what he had done. No matter what happened next, he would make sure Bison got his happy ending.

~ ~ ~ ~

Chapter Text

For a few days, everything was quiet. Kant did as Bison instructed, calling Chris first to let him know about how Bison had seemed anxious about something, then about how Bison wasn’t returning his calls or texts and the restaurant was closed. Chris clearly felt like Kant had somehow given himself away, leading to Bison’s abrupt departure, but Kant said, “Give me a break. If he’d figured out I was a narc, he would have killed me. It must be something else that spooked them.”

Chris begrudgingly admitted that this was true, and told Kant he’d give him a break ‘this one time’. Kant managed not to say any of the rude things he was thinking, and ended the call as cordially as possible.

Of course, he was also dealing with Style. He didn’t say anything at first, hoping that Fadel would talk to him, but it quickly became clear that Fadel hadn’t. Style called him and was all in a tizzy about how the restaurant was closed and Fadel wasn’t answering his phone. “If it was just that he was ignoring me, I’d assume I probably pissed him off and just find him at the market or something, but why would the restaurant be closed?” Style asked. “What’s going on? And don’t tell me you don’t know because I know that you do.”

Kant sighed. “Come over and have a drink,” he said.

Style turned up fifteen minutes later and demanded answers. Kant gave him a beer.

“I can’t tell you everything,” he said, and Style protested. “You remember that police captain I used to work for?”

“That asshole? Yeah, I remember.”

“A couple weeks ago, he called me up. Said he wanted me to do a job for him. They were investigating Bison and Fadel.”

“What? Why?” Style sputtered.

Kant shook his head. “They had a guy follow Bison and get some pictures, and Chris saw me in them, so he contacted me to get him information. Threatened to re-open my cases and put me in prison if I didn’t cooperate.”

“For fuck’s sake,” Style said.

“I tried to put him off, but he wouldn’t let it go, so I told Bison what was going on. They’ve closed up shop and are going to get new identities. I asked him if Fadel was going to talk to you and he said he didn’t know. I hoped he would, but . . . Fadel’s gonna be Fadel, I guess.”

Style rubbed both hands over his face. “What the fuck are the cops investigating them for?”

“I can’t tell you that. Bison asked me not to. I think he feels like if Fadel wants you to know, he’ll tell you himself.”

“But it must be serious, right?” Style asked, and Kant sighed and took a drink of his beer. “They’re not going to just vanish like this if it wasn’t serious. Or if they were innocent and the cops were poking their noses into nothing. I’ve thought for a while that Fadel must be some kind of gangster, with the way he behaves, but . . .”

“They’re not bad people,” Kant said. “I don’t want you to think that.”

“I know that,” Style scoffed. “I mean, okay, I’m kind of pissed that he just ghosted me but like you said, that’s Fadel. When are they going to be back?”

“I don’t know. Bison said it would be a few weeks at least, probably more like a few months.”

Style whined. “How are we going to survive?”

“One day at a time,” Kant said.

The next thing he had to figure out occurred to him on Thursday. Babe was still planning to go to the charity event Ruerat was hosting, and Kant absolutely couldn’t let him go. He wasn’t sure whether or not Babe’s presence was related to the assassination failing, but either way, he wouldn’t let Babe put himself in danger. But he couldn’t tell Babe he couldn’t go without an explanation, so he had to find some other reason Babe wouldn’t be able to attend.

“When do you need to leave?” Kant asked the next day, chopping shallots.

“About a half hour,” Babe said. “You don’t need to drive me, P’Kant. I’ll take the train.”

“Okay,” Kant said.

“And there’s going to be food there, so you don’t need to make me dinner,” Babe added.

“This is for me, brat,” Kant said, and Babe laughed. “Bison is out of town on a trip to see his family, so I’m taking the opportunity to eat the spicy things he doesn’t like.”

“Save some for me,” Babe said.

“I thought you said I didn’t need to make you dinner?” Kant said, amused.

“Yeah, but it’s so rare that you cook, you normally just order takeout - ”

“Mind your own business,” Kant said, grabbing a bundle of spring onions. He cut the ends off of them and then took a deep breath as he started to chop them. It was more difficult to intentionally hurt himself this way than he anticipated, and he gave an involuntary hiss of pain as the knife cut deeply into his thumb. “Ow, fuck - ”

“What’s wrong?” Babe asked, and then his eyes widened as he saw the blood dripping onto the cutting board. “P’Kant, are you okay?”

“Now you know why I don’t cook often,” Kant said, trying to make a joke out of it. He grabbed a washcloth and wrapped it around his hand, and it immediately turned crimson. “Grab me the first aid kit from the bathroom, will you?”

Babe dashed off and came back with the kit, and Kant gingerly lifted the washcloth away and winced. “That looks deep,” Babe said anxiously. “Are you sure it doesn’t need stitches?”

“No, I think it’s - ” Kant applied a Band-Aid, and it immediately soaked through. “Hand me some gauze.”

“P’Kant!” Babe sounded appalled. “I’m taking you to the hospital.”

“You don’t have to - you have that party,” Kant said. “I’ll drive myself - ”

“Drive yourself?” Babe demanded. “You can’t keep pressure on the wound if you’re driving. The party’s not important! It’s just a silly event to reward me for getting a scholarship, but the scholarship itself is the real reward. Didn’t you teach me how to drive so I could do it in the case of an emergency?”

“Well - ” Kant winced. “Okay. I’m sorry you have to miss the party because of something so stupid - ”

“Accidents happen, isn’t that what you’ve always said when I hurt myself?” Babe gave him a wad of gauze to press against the injury so he could try to keep the bleeding contained, and grabbed Kant’s keys out of the dish by the door. Ten minutes later, they were at the hospital. The injury wasn’t major, so they had to wait for a while. Kant received three stitches, a bandage, and a painkiller. Almost two hours had gone by, by the time they left. By then, of course, it was long past the point in time where it would be worth it for Babe to go to the event.

“Let’s go home and order some larb and watch a movie while we eat,” Babe said.

Grinning despite himself, Kant said, “Okay, best little brother.”

They ordered takeout and cleaned up the remains of the meal that Kant had been pretending he would cook. Kant went to the bathroom and took out his phone, pulling up the local news. His heart skipped a beat in his chest as he saw the headline: ‘Local Entrepreneur and Philanthropist Killed at Charity Event’. He scrolled through the article quickly to see that the assassins had escaped without being captured or identified, and let out a relieved breath. 

He didn’t say anything about it to Babe. It wasn’t until the next morning that Babe saw the headlines and nearly choked on his breakfast. “Now I’m sort of glad I cut myself,” Kant said. “I hate the thought of you having been there for that.”

“Nobody else was seriously hurt,” Babe said, reading the article. “But I guess there were some injuries because there was a rush to get out of the restaurant.”

“Even if you hadn’t been hurt, I’m sure it would have been traumatizing to see,” Kant said, and Babe agreed. “Three stitches is totally worth it to have kept that from happening.”

“You say that like you did it on purpose,” Babe said, laughing. “You’re so cool, P’Kant. Magically injuring yourself to keep me from having been there.”

“Rude,” Kant said, snapping a towel in his direction. “Who raised you?”

“You did, so that’s why I’m like this,” Babe said.

“Shouldn’t you be studying?” Kant shot back.

Babe laughed. “I’ve got a scholarship! I can relax now.”

“If you say so,” Kant said, but he felt like he was the one who could finally relax.

So he was more than a little disconcerted, and frankly a bit pissed off, when the door to the studio opened and Chris came in that evening. At least it was after Babe had gone to his room to play video games, and the tattoo parlor was technically open but he had no customers. Warily, he said, “Captain, what can I do for you?”

“Don’t play stupid,” Chris said.

Kant sighed. He had thought about the likelihood that this would happen, and had prepared for it, but was still irritated about it. “Okay. You’re here because you think Bison and Fadel killed Ruerat last night. You’re probably correct. I don’t know what you expect me to do about it.”

“Give me your phone,” Chris said.

“What? Why?”

“Or I’ll arrest you for grand theft auto,” Chris said.

“Are we really doing this, Captain?” Kant asked, pulling his phone out and unlocking it. “Sure. Fine. Here are my texts with Bison.” He went to the conversation and held it out for Chris to see. He had realized that Chris might not believe his story, and had created the evidence to back it up. The last text he had from Bison was on the same night he had told him the truth, and was just saying he was heading over and asking if Kant wanted anything from the restaurant. Kant had said no, he had already eaten. The remaining texts were all from Kant to Bison, to give the appearance that Bison had ghosted him. A simple, ‘what are you up to today?’, followed by, ‘is everything okay?’ More texts over the following days. ‘Are you upset with me? Did I do something that pissed you off?’ ‘Answer my call, Bison. I’m worried about you.’

“Phone records,” Chris said.

Kant pulled them up. The last connected phone call was from him to Bison, the same day as their last text conversation. After that, several attempts from Kant to call Bison which had gone without any answer. Without being asked, Kant tapped the icon to call the number. It immediately gave the message that the number was no longer in service. Chris took his phone out of his hand and scrolled through his other calls and texts.

“Satisfied?” Kant asked.

Chris jotted down Bison’s number, presumably so he could contact the phone company and see if they had any information. “I’m trying to decide whether or not I believe you.”

“Let me know what you figure out,” Kant said.

“I wouldn’t put it past you to tip them off just because you were pissed at me for dragging you into this,” Chris said.

Kant sighed. “If I was going to do that, I would’ve just done it at the beginning. Do you have any idea what the last couple months have been like for me? Dating an assassin with an overprotective big brother who is also an assassin, waiting to see if he’s going to figure out I’m passing information along to the police? Listen, I’m done with these games, okay? If you want to arrest me, arrest me. Babe’s seventeen. He’s graduating high school soon. He’s got a good scholarship and I’ve put aside savings for his living expenses. If I have to go to prison for car theft, fine. At this point, that would be preferable over having to continue to deal with your bullshit.”

Chris’ mouth tightened. “You think I won’t do that?”

“I mean, you probably don’t want me crying to the judge and the lawyers about how you promised to let me go after all the other cases I helped you close, so yeah, I think you won’t,” Kant said, going toe-to-toe with him. “You’ve got two choices, Captain. Either arrest me and take your chances on whether or not you end up getting investigated for ethical misconduct, or leave me the fuck alone.”

“You always did have more balls than brains,” Chris said with a snort. “It’s one of the things that makes you good at what you do. Okay. You win this round, Kant.”

“Get out of my shop,” Kant said, and Chris turned and left. Kant sighed, feeling like he definitely hadn’t seen the last of him. Frustration was thick in his throat. He decided to go down to the bowling alley and see if attacking some hapless pins would make him feel better. 

It was a mistake. Everything at the bowling alley reminded him of Bison. Even knowing that he had done things better, had fixed the mistakes he had made the first time around, he missed Bison so much that his chest ached. He didn’t know how long it would be until he saw him again.

He was moping about that while he nursed his second beer when he saw someone in a cute black bucket hat peeking between the curtains that led to the back. His heart skipped a beat in his chest as their gazes briefly met. As soon as Kant looked at him, Bison quickly slipped away. Kant abandoned his beer and chased after him, but by the time he got to the parking lot, he couldn’t see him anywhere. He wanted to call out after him, but couldn’t. He didn’t know if he was being watched.

Hopefully, he jogged over to his car instead. To his disappointment, he didn’t see Bison waiting in his back seat. Then he saw a scrap of paper tucked under his windshield wiper. He took it out and saw that it was the name of a hotel, and a room number. It was the same hotel that he and Bison had spent their first night at.

Practically beside himself with joy, he got into the car and drove over to the hotel. He knocked on the door of the room, then wondered if he had beaten Bison there. He’d had his car, after all, and Bison could drive but didn’t have his own - 

Then the door swung open and Bison grabbed the front of his shirt and dragged him into the room. Kant kicked the door shut behind him as Bison kissed him, wrapping his arms around him and twining his hands in Bison’s hair. They kissed over and over again for several long minutes before Bison managed to pull away. “Let me flip the dead bolt,” he managed, and did so before swooping in for another kiss. Then he abruptly pulled back. “What happened to your hand?”

“Cut myself chopping onions,” Kant said, laughing. “No big deal.”

Bison took his hand and pressed a kiss against the bandage, then grabbed the hem of Kant’s shirt and tugged it over Kant’s head. Kant got his hands underneath Bison’s ass, and Bison wrapped his legs around Kant, holding onto him until Kant spilled them both onto the bed.

As much as Kant did enjoy exploring BDSM with Bison, he enjoyed this, too. He enjoyed being able to touch every inch of Bison, being able to worship his body the way it deserved to be worshipped. He enjoyed finding the sensitive places and lingering on them, listening to Bison gasp and moan. He enjoyed the feeling of Bison’s skin underneath his fingers, the taste of it against his tongue.

He loved the way Bison’s head tilted back, the way the cords of his neck stood out when Kant did something that felt particularly good. He loved how sensitive Bison’s inner thighs were, and felt like he could spend a lifetime kissing them as Bison pulled on his hair and begged for more. He loved teasing Bison, putting his hands and mouth everywhere except where Bison most wanted them. He loved the way Bison’s legs fit around him, like they were made for each other.

He loved the way being inside Bison felt, the look of bliss on Bison’s face while Kant made love to him. He loved the way Bison’s fingers dug into his back, holding onto him, sometimes hard enough to bruise. He loved whispering sweet nonsense into Bison’s ear and showering his face with soft, gentle kisses. He loved all of it.

Even once they were finished, he loved lying beside Bison while they caught their breath and stared up at the ceiling. He loved the way Bison would sometimes curl up next to him, his back pressed against Kant’s side. He loved the way Bison would sometimes sprawl out on top of him, his face resting on Kant’s chest.

“We’re leaving town tomorrow morning,” Bison said drowsily. “I had to see you one more time before we go.”

Kant trailed his fingers up and down Bison’s skin. “I’m glad. I already missed you so much.”

“We’ll be back after a while,” Bison said. “I promise.”

“Okay,” Kant said.

They lay there in silence as minutes slipped by, holding onto each other.

“My parents were killed when I was eight,” Bison said.

“Shit.” Kant propped himself up on one elbow to see Bison staring into space. “What happened?”

“They refused to sell their land to this developer who wanted it,” Bison said, “so he had them killed. I was home when it happened, so I heard the gunshots. I didn’t see it, but . . . I came out of my room and found their bodies.”

“Fuck, that’s awful,” Kant said. The plane crash had been traumatic, surely, but this sounded so much worse. “I’m really sorry, Bison.”

“Fadel’s were killed, too. Around the same time.” Bison was still just staring at the ceiling, dry-eyed, not looking at Kant. “By the same person, for the same reason. Not that we knew each other back then. We were just kids. Then Khun Mei adopted us. She took us in, along with another boy about our age, named Keen. I wasn’t thrilled about it at the time, you know? I didn’t want a new mother. But she was good to us. She got us everything we needed. When I had bad dreams, Fadel would be there for me. So I started to feel better after a while.”

“That’s good,” Kant said, taking Bison’s hand and squeezing it gently.

“Khun Mei didn’t enroll us in school; she had tutors come in, and we did some online school,” Bison said, and Kant frowned. “So it was just the four of us. And we learned all the usual stuff, you know, math, history . . . but she taught us some other things, too. I didn’t really understand why. She taught us how to use guns, how to follow people, how to blend in. She said we had to learn to protect ourselves. That sort of made sense to me. Our parents had been murdered and we didn’t want that to happen to us.”

Kant made a noncommittal noise, to hide the fact that his stomach was churning.

“It was sort of like a game, you know? And we were hypercompetitive. Fadel was always the best, of course, he was the best at anything Khun Mei gave us. I worked hard because I looked up to him. I wanted to be as good as he was. And Keen was never very good at it, and I wanted to be better than Keen, because I could tell that Khun Mei was disappointed in him. Keen was a real dickhead - still is, really - so beating him was fun. 

“Then Khun Mei gave us our first target. He was a terrible person. He left a trail of widows and orphans in his wake. The world would be a better place without him. She told us all that and it made sense to me but I still didn’t want to have to kill him. But we owed her, you know? She took us in. She gave us all this training so we could help her make the world a better place.”

“Nngk,” Kant said, choking back what he wanted to say until Bison was done talking.

“So we did it. I was sick for weeks afterwards. I hid it from her, though. I didn’t want her to be upset with me. Sometimes she got impatient with me. She said I was too sensitive, that I had to be tough like Fadel. So I didn’t tell her. Fadel knew, though. He always stayed with me and helped me keep it a secret. I guess I gradually got used to it. There are some people we’ve killed that I really didn’t mind killing. Really terrible people, like that mob boss. But sometimes . . . I wanted to ask questions. Once or twice, I even did, but Fadel always said we should do what Khun Mei asked of us. Where would we be if not for her? We owed her for taking us in.

“But the last couple years, I just, I really wanted to stop. I don’t want to spend my whole life doing this. I wanted to be free to live my life the way I wanted, to be able to fall in love and have someone like you who loved me, too. I had dreams of my own. I would ask but there would always be some reason it was a bad time. Just one more job. And I didn’t want to leave Fadel doing it by himself, so I stuck with it. Fadel was actually going to quit a couple years ago, because he had fallen in love with this guy, and I thought I’d be able to stop, too. I was so excited about it. But then the guy ghosted him and he decided he would just do it forever because there was no way he would ever have anything better. After I met you, I had to quit. I told Fadel that and he talked to Khun Mei for me. But we had to do this last job. We killed the man who killed our parents and now their souls can rest in peace, and I can live my life.”

“Ruerat killed your parents?” Kant said, startled, although he didn’t really know why.

“Yeah. He was a real scumbag,” Bison said. “But I’m done now. I swear. We’ll lie low for a few months, come back with new haircuts and new identities and everything will be fine. Okay?”

“Okay,” Kant said automatically.

Bison sat up and finally looked over at him, and Kant couldn’t read his expression. “Is it?”

“It’s - ” Kant swallowed the word. “I said I would never lie to you, so I won’t. It’s not okay. It’s so many worlds of not okay, but not for any of the reasons you’re clearly thinking. I’m not angry with you or disgusted by you. I will happily live the rest of my life with you, and I want you to be happy, too. I want to make those dreams of yours come true. But that doesn’t make this okay. What Khun Mei did to you is not okay.”

Bison blinked at him, and he seemed a little puzzled. “She didn’t do anything to us.”

“Fuck,” Kant said, pushing a hand through his hair. “Okay. Let me tell you something, okay? When my parents died, there was this patchy network of relatives who looked after me and Babe. They took all the money my parents would have wanted us to get and spent it on themselves and barely remembered to feed us. So as soon as I was old enough, I adopted Babe and we went to live on our own.”

“What’s this got to do with what we’re talking about?” Bison asked, tucking his hand behind his head.

“I’ll get there. I was young and we were broke. I dropped out of uni and got involved with a bad crowd. I stole cars and got caught by the police and ended up doing work as an informant that - ” Kant had to stop and take a deep breath. “That almost killed me, and did give me PTSD. Babe is my little brother and I love him more than the air I breathe but adopting him nearly ruined my fucking life. And when Babe got older, you know, sometimes he could see the way I was struggling and it really upset him because he blamed himself. I always told him that it wasn’t his fault. Because adopting him was my choice. I knew it would be hard but I wanted to do it because he’s my brother and I love him. For years, every time Babe got down on himself, I told him the same thing: that he doesn’t owe me anything for adopting him. Because that was my decision.”

Bison quickly looked away. “It doesn’t work like that.”

“It does, Bison. It absolutely does. I made the choice to adopt Babe and he doesn’t owe me anything for what I’ve done for him, what I gave up to take care of him. And it seems like Khun Mei didn’t even give anything up! She didn’t go through what I did because of adopting you. What gives her the right to ask anything of you, let alone that you become a killer for her?”

“We would’ve ended up on the streets with nothing - ”

“Bullshit,” Kant said. “That’s what she told you, isn’t it? That you should be grateful to her because otherwise that’s where you would’ve wound up. I call bullshit. You didn’t have any relatives to look after you? Not even some distant cousins? Maybe I’d believe that of one of you, but three kids, none of you had anyone who could take you in? Your parents had money. That could have paid for you to be taken care of in an orphanage or something. I don’t know exactly how all that works but I do know that there are systems in place.”

“Well, what, then?” Bison was upset now, and he sat up, raising his voice. “You think I did all this for nothing?”

“No!” Kant shoved back his frustration, which certainly wouldn’t help the situation. “No. I think Khun Mei forced you into this life when you were just a kid. That’s not your fault.”

“She never made me do anything,” Bison said.

“How old were you when you killed someone for the first time?” Kant asked.

Bison’s gaze slid to the side. “Fourteen.”

“Fuck,” Kant said, feeling nauseous. “That’s so fucked up, Bison. You know how fucked up that is, right?”

Bison said nothing.

“You were a kid. She was an adult and she adopted you to have you do this work for her. Do you have any idea how much money she’s probably making off you and Fadel? It’s not that I know what the going rate is for a hit, but it’s got to be a lot more than she’s giving you. She’s built an entire business off of exploiting you and Fadel because she adopted you when you were too young to understand what she was doing. She told you that you owed her for taking you in, and built up this rivalry between the three of you to motivate you in your training. She told you that you were doing good work to make the world a better place, but Bison, you know, you know deep down in your heart that not every target you killed was - ”

“Shut up,” Bison whispered.

Kant’s hands curled into fists. “It’s not your fault, Bison.”

“Shut up,” Bison repeated.

“It’s not your fault.”

“I said to shut up!”

Kant flinched, waiting for the sound of the shot, for the pain, for the blood in his mouth. But it didn’t come. Bison sat next to him, his shoulders and chest heaving for breath, and then he abruptly burst into tears. Kant grabbed him, pulling him into an embrace, hugging him as tightly as he could. “It’s not your fault,” he said, and Bison cried harder. “It’s not your fault, Bison. I love you. It’s not your fault.”

“I didn’t want to,” Bison sobbed. “I didn’t want to.”

“I know,” Kant said, his chest aching. “I know.”

For a long time, Kant held Bison while Bison wept uncontrollably into his shoulder. He rubbed his back and stroked his hair and murmured, “I love you,” and “I’ve got you,” and “I’ll never leave you.” He held Bison and thought about everything Bison had told him. His betrayal seemed so much worse now that he knew the full story. Bison had been used and abused his whole life, and Kant was the first person he had opened up to. Kant shed more than a few tears of his own, promising internally that he would make it up to Bison.

When Bison finally pulled away, Kant looked at his tear-streaked face and snotty nose and rumpled hair and thought about how young Bison looked sometimes. He thought of what Bison must have looked like at fourteen, and how he had been manipulated into doing such terrible things.

“I’m going to get you a glass of water,” Kant said, and Bison nodded. Kant hesitated anyway. “Is it okay if I let you go?”

Bison nodded again and wiped tears off his cheeks, looking suddenly impatient and a little embarrassed. Kant got him some water and some tissues and a washcloth to clean himself up.

“Listen,” he said, sitting down on the bed next to Bison again. “I know it’s going to take a long time for you to really work through all of this in here.” He reached out and tapped Bison’s chest, over his heart. “And in here,” he added, tapping Bison’s forehead. “You’ve had a really hard life, and you don’t have to be tough. Just feel how you need to feel. If you’re sad, if you’re angry - whatever you’re feeling, I’ll be with you. But what worries me is that now that I know all this, I’m more sure than ever that Khun M - ” Kant choked on the words. “I can’t call her that. What’s her name? You can give me a fake one if you don’t want me to have the real one.”

Bison looked away and then murmured, “Lilly. Her name is Lilly.”

Kant nodded and took both of Bison’s hands in his, squeezing them gently. “I’m more sure than ever that Lilly’s not going to let you go.”

“Why not just say that, then?” Bison asked. “She told us we could go.”

“You’ve been getting more and more insistent, though, haven’t you?” Kant asked, and Bison sighed and nodded. “She can’t stop you from leaving. You could just up and vanish; you have the skills and the money. That’s why she strung you along as long as she could, always saying it would be just a bit longer, just one more job.”

“Why would she do that?” Bison asked, his voice trembling. “Why would she do any of this?”

Kant shrugged slightly. “Something that asshole cop once said to me was that the two most common motives in the world were money and more money.”

“You really think it was just about the money?”

“Yeah, I do,” Kant said. “It’s the only motive that really makes sense. It’s either that she did it for the money or she did it because she’s batshit insane.”

Bison gave a weak chuckle. “Okay. But does it matter? Like you said, she can’t stop us from leaving. We’ve decided not to work for her anymore. I’ll never - ” His voice trembled but then came back strong. “I’ll never kill for her again.”

“She can’t make you work for her,” Kant said, “but she can stop you from leaving. You know so much about her - about everything you’ve done for her. Do you think she’ll just let you walk away? Wouldn’t she always be anxious, knowing that the two of you are still out there, that you could tell her secrets, could incriminate her for her crimes?”

Bison looked a little surprised, but then let out a breath. “It doesn’t matter. She doesn’t know where we’re going. Fadel’s so meticulous, you know - we’ve always had a safe house or two that she didn’t know about. I think he kept them in case I really went off the rails and he needed a place for me to go while he made excuses to Khun Mei for me. We’ve saved a lot of money. We’ll be careful, Kant. I promise.”

“Okay,” Kant said, relieved that Fadel seemed to have planned for this, if only subconsciously. “I just wish I knew when you were going to be back. I’m going to worry about you until I see you again.”

“Well, that’s the other reason I needed to see you before we left town,” Bison said, and he seemed to have steadied out now. He finished his water and put the glass aside, then stood up and went to the table next to the bed. There was a backpack sitting in the chair, and he opened it up and took out a flip phone that he handed to Kant. “I got you a burner phone.”

“Oh,” Kant said, surprised but pleased. He saw that it was already turned on and was slightly amused that it didn’t even have a way to lock it. “I’ll be able to talk to you while you’re gone?”

“Not just to chat,” Bison said. “We have to keep contact as limited as possible. I called it already so my new number will be in your recent calls. That’s for my burner. Don’t save it in as a contact. Never use this phone to call anyone except that number, and I’ll only ever use my burner to call you on this phone. I’ll text you every night to let you know I’m okay. Don’t text back. Call me only in the case of an emergency.”

“Okay.” Kant stood up and wrapped his arms around Bison from behind, pressing kisses into his shoulders. “Thanks for understanding.”

“Would you believe it was Fadel’s idea?”

“No,” Kant said, laughing.

“Uh huh. He gave me the burner phones and told me to give one to you. He said otherwise one of the two of us would do something stupid and put ourselves in danger. If we really can’t go without talking to each other for a few weeks, he would make sure we did it safely,” Bison said, and now they were both laughing. “Peak Fadel, right?”

“Absolutely,” Kant said.

“I’ve gotta get going. Nobody should be looking for me yet, but Fadel said he wanted me back at the safe house by midnight so we could get an early start tomorrow morning.”

“Okay,” Kant said, despite his aching heart. He looked around for his clothes, and the two of them got dressed in silence. “I should stay here at the hotel a little longer, right? We shouldn’t leave together.”

Bison nodded. “Give it another half hour or so. I’ll text you tomorrow night, okay?” he added, and Kant agreed and kissed him. “Don’t worry about me, Kant. We’ll lie low for a little while and then we can finally live the lives we want to live.”

“Sounds good,” Kant said, internally resolved that Bison was going to get that life, no matter what he had to do.

~ ~ ~ ~

Chapter Text

Kant slept restlessly, holding onto the burner phone. He told himself that Bison would be fine. The brothers were good at what they did. It seemed like Fadel had thought about making sure they would be safe after they left Lilly’s employ. Kant just had to wait, and soon Bison would be back in his arms.

To distract himself the next day, he went down to Style’s garage. He found Style looking surprisingly perky, singing along to the radio as he worked on an engine. Kant eyed him suspiciously and said, “Have a good night?”

“I did,” Style said, with a grin that wouldn’t quit.

“Okay,” Kant said. “Out with it. Did you see Fadel?”

“Yeah,” Style said, laughing. “He was acting like someone in a shady spy thriller. Scared the shit out of me when he showed up. He said he wanted to see me one more time before they took off for a while. He still wouldn’t tell me anything, though! I asked him what was going on and he said maybe he would tell me someday. Can you believe that?”

“Absolutely,” Kant said.

“That was some of the best sex of my life, though,” Style said, “so I can’t really complain.”

“You can always complain,” Kant said, and Style flipped him off but they both laughed. 

They had lunch together and then Kant went back to his studio and saw several clients. It helped keep him distracted. Babe came home from school and they looked through some of the paperwork he had gotten about university, and the possibility of studying abroad. Babe was interested in it, but said he would rather do his first year or two in Thailand before leaving the country. But there were a lot of good universities that were in reach now that he had his scholarship, so he was excited about the possibilities.

Just after dinner, the burner phone buzzed in Kant’s pocket, and he nearly hit the ceiling. He quickly ducked out of the room, knowing Babe would question the strange phone, and saw he had a text which just read: ‘<3’

Despite knowing it was silly, Kant hugged the phone to his chest for a few moments, wishing he could at least reply. Bison had told him not to, so he wouldn’t, but the impulse was still strong.

The next day went much the same. Kant busied himself with chores and errands in the morning and worked all afternoon and into the evening. The tattoo parlor was never overbooked, but he had plenty of clients. Babe was hanging out with friends and came home just after dinner. The burner phone buzzed as they ate and he found a message that said, ‘miss you’.

He sighed quietly and sat down to watch some TV while Babe studied in his room, and nearly jumped out of his skin when the burner phone actually rang. Bison had said to only call in an emergency and would presumably follow the same guidelines - although Kant supposed it was also possible that Bison was already breaking his own rules. Still, his heart was racing as he went into his own room to answer. “Hey, is everything okay?”

“I’m okay,” Bison said, which was a relief, but he didn’t sound okay. His voice was ragged, like he had been crying or breathing hard. “But you were right.”

Kant winced. “What do you need?” he asked, because he knew Bison wouldn’t call just to tell him that.

“We need a car,” Bison said. “They’re tracking Fadel’s Jeep somehow; there’s no other way she could have found us so fast. I looked for a tracker but a car has a hundred nooks and crannies. I can’t figure out where they stashed it.”

“Where are you?”

“Phetchaburi. Right now I’m at the hospital but we’ll be leaving soon.”

“The hospital?” Kant couldn’t help but feel another stab of anxiety. “What happened?”

“Fadel’s hurt. It’s not too serious, I don’t think. They want to keep him overnight for observation but we won’t stay; it’s not safe. I can text you once we’re settled somewhere else. We can take a taxi.”

“Okay.” Kant’s mind was racing. Bison needed a car, and not Kant’s. Even without the possibility that it too could have a tracker, if Lilly had been watching them enough to know about Kant, it was too distinctive. “I can be there in about three hours. Can I tell Style what’s going on? He always has old license plates lying around from cars that got totaled.”

“Yeah,” Bison said. “Someone’s going to have to sit on Fadel while he’s recovering and better Style than me.”

“Got it.” Kant grabbed his backpack and started shoving things into it. He had thought it might come to this, so he had prepared. “I’m heading your way. Find a safe place and sit tight.”

“Okay. Thanks, Kant. I love you.”

“I love you, too.” Kant hung up and grabbed the last of what he needed, then knocked on Babe’s door. “Hey, so, remember how I told you that Bison was out of town visiting family?” he asked, and Babe nodded. “Well, his aunt is pretty sick and he’s going to be staying longer than he expected. I thought I would go down for a few days to help him out and make sure he has everything he needs.”

“Oh, sure,” Babe said. “I’ll be fine on my own, don’t worry about me.”

“Study hard, keep your nose clean,” Kant said, and Babe laughed and agreed. Kant jogged down to the car, got behind the wheel, and called Style. “Hey, there’s trouble,” he said. “Pack a couple days’ worth of things and grab whatever spare license plates you have. I need to get Bison and Fadel a fresh car.”

“Okay,” Style said, and he sounded a little anxious, but also a little eager.

Kant was there six minutes later, and Style was waiting for him with a bag and three old license plates. Kant wasn’t thrilled about bringing Style along to steal a car, but he didn’t want to have to double back and pick him up later. 

“Where are we going?” Style asked, as Kant pulled back into traffic.

“The airport,” Kant said. “Best place to steal a car where it won’t be noticed that it’s missing for a while is somewhere with long-term parking, where the owners probably won’t be back until you’re long gone.”

“Nice,” Style said. “Do you know what happened? What’s the trouble?”

Kant let out a breath. “There’s still a lot I can’t tell you if I don’t want Fadel to kick my ass, but I’m going to give you the bare bones, okay? Bison and Fadel are both orphans and they were basically adopted into a crime syndicate. This woman who’s in charge of them gave them work to do and they did it. Bison’s been wanting to leave for a while, and Fadel - it’s complicated with Fadel. But the long story short is that they decided to leave, their boss gave them permission to leave, and now I’m pretty sure their boss is trying to kill them for leaving.”

“What the fuck,” Style said.

“I talked to Bison about it a few days ago. I felt like their boss was lying to them to get them to let their guard down. He didn’t want to believe it but I think deep down he knew I was right. He said Fadel had planned some contingencies and they would be careful. But something happened tonight, I don’t have the details yet, and Bison thinks their car is being tracked. He asked me if I could get them some fresh wheels. Once I have the car, we’ll drive down to Phetchaburi and pick them up. He said Fadel was hurt, but not seriously, and apparently it’s going to be your job to keep him from over-exerting himself while he’s recovering.”

“Lucky me,” Style said.

“I could leave you behind if you’d prefer,” Kant said.

“Oh, shut up,” Style said, laughing.

They drove to the airport. Kant got a ticket for the long-term parking and found a spot for his car, then walked with Style to a different part of the garage. He scanned what was available and chose a midsize car that looked extremely ordinary and fairly new. “Plates,” he said to Style.

“Cameras?” Style asked, glancing around.

“We’re in a blind spot.” Kant smirked despite himself. “You think I’ve never done this before?”

“All right, I bow to your superior expertise,” Style said, amused. He knelt down with a screwdriver and quickly exchanged the plates while Kant got the door open and the car running. A minute later, they pulled out of the parking terminal (the one downside of this was that Kant had to pay for the parking, which could leave a record, but that was what prepaid debit cards were for) and then onto the highway.

“Keep an eye on my phone,” he said, handing it to Style. “Bison’s going to text an address.”

“Hey, how come you got a burner phone?” Style asked. “Fadel didn’t give me a phone.”

“That’s because Bison likes me more than Fadel likes you,” Kant said.

“Get bent, asshole.”

It was getting late by now, and traffic was fairly light. Kant had the urge to race his way down to Phetchaburi to be reunited with Bison, but not getting pulled over was more important. He kept up with traffic but drove conservatively. A little over halfway through the trip, his phone buzzed. Style put it into his GPS and they saw they were about an hour away. Kant decided it was worth risking a text back to let Bison know that.

“Let’s grab some food,” Style said, on their way into town. “If Bison called you from the hospital around the same time you called me, I bet they didn’t get dinner.”

“Good idea,” Kant said. He saw a food stand and pulled over, and stayed in the car, letting it idle, while Style got some food. A few minutes later, they were at the address Bison had given them, which turned out to be a motel that was nicer than he would have expected. He supposed that Bison and Fadel had plenty of money, and it made sense to stay in a place that had better security. 

They went up to Bison’s room and he knocked gently on the door. A few seconds later, it opened about an inch, with the chain still on. Bison saw it was them, closed it to get the chain off, and then pulled it open the rest of the way and threw himself into Kant’s arms. Kant squeezed him tightly, letting his body release some of the tension.

A bare second later, Fadel appeared behind Bison, with his arm in a sling. He saw them and his eyes narrowed before he snapped, “What are they doing here?”

“Nice to see you too, asshole,” Style said, without missing a beat. “You really think you could go on the run without me? Are you injured? Here, sit down - ”

“You don’t need to fuss,” Fadel snarled at him. “It’s just a broken arm.”

“And a concussion,” Bison said, without letting go of Kant. “We needed a new car, Fadel. I told you, I can’t find the tracker in yours.”

“You are perfectly capable of stealing a car!” Fadel said.

“Are you?” Kant asked, amused despite himself.

“Maybe,” Bison muttered, then said in a normal tone, “Whatever. I couldn’t get a car without leaving you here by yourself - ”

“Which you could have done at any time because as I’ve repeatedly told you, I’m fine.”

“The hospital wanted to admit you for overnight observation! Why would they have done that if you were fine?”

“To bill me,” Fadel retorted.

“What actually happened?” Style asked.

Sourly, Fadel said, “I presume Kant told you everything by now.”

“Hey,” Kant said, “the hell I did. Bison asked me not to tell Style certain things that he told me in confidence. All I told Style is that you two were raised in a crime syndicate and had decided to leave, and that you’d had some sort of trouble tonight.”

Fadel shot him a look, then sighed and pushed his hair out of his face. “It’s not a syndicate.”

“Okay, true, but that was the fastest and easiest way for me to explain it without going into a lot of details that I figured you might not want Style to know,” Kant said, and finally let Bison pull free of his embrace. “Seriously, what happened? I thought you’d be a lot further away by now.”

Surprisingly, Bison laughed. “Fadel’s beloved car broke down. We had to have it towed to the closest garage and wait there while it was fixed. That was yesterday. To be fair, we never had a specific destination in mind, really. I figured I would go down south and lay low at the house my parents owned,” he added, and Kant had to suppress a shudder just thinking about it. “And Fadel would go wherever, doing whatever Fadel does.”

“Hanging upside down like a bat,” Style said.

“Get fucked,” Fadel told him.

“Raincheck, babe,” Style said, smirking. “You don’t look up to it right now.”

Fadel made a disgruntled noise, but Bison didn’t laugh again, his tone now more serious. “So the plan was just to head south, but what really mattered was not being where people knew we were, using identities people didn’t know about. So we decided to grab some dinner and then drive a few more hours before stopping for the night. We were waiting in line at a food truck when someone started shooting. Fadel - ”

Bison stopped and looked at Fadel, who sighed. “I caught a glimpse of the guy in the reflection of the window on the truck. I got us to cover, but it got chaotic when he started shooting. People were running everywhere. Bison started shooting back to cover me while I went around to get behind him. Then a woman ran right into me and knocked me over.”

“He really went ass over teakettle, it was kind of funny,” Bison said, and Fadel gave him a look. “What? You’re always lecturing me about paying attention to my surroundings, but you were so focused on that guy that you didn’t notice the screaming woman running directly towards you - ”

Fadel cut him off. “I broke my arm and hit my head on the pavement but I’m fine. The doctors did a CT scan to rule out a brain bleed. It’s just a concussion.”

“For which,” Bison said, “you’re supposed to not exert yourself for a few days. Physical and cognitive rest. Symptoms from a concussion like headache, dizziness, blurred vision - those can last for weeks. And the more you push yourself in the immediate aftermath, the more severe those symptoms will be and the longer they’ll last. How could I leave you here by yourself while I go steal a car? Kant’s perfectly capable of bringing us a car.”

“Are you serious?” Fadel sighed. “Do you think I don’t know that this was just a convenient excuse for you to bring him in on this? Fine, whatever. We’ll take the one he brought us and keep going. They can take the Jeep somewhere else to get Ruerat’s guys off our trail, then steal a different car and go back to Bangkok where they belong.”

“Ruerat’s guys?” Kant said, unable to help it. He was so startled by that, that it didn’t occur to him to argue with Fadel trying to send them back to Bangkok.

“Who else would be trying to kill us?” Fadel said irritably. “You want to talk about a crime syndicate - I’m sure Ruerat had lieutenants and now they’ve identified us and they’re trying to get revenge.”

Unthinking, Kant looked at Bison, who gave an oblique shake of his head. Bison clearly knew that Fadel was just lying to himself, but this wasn’t the time to deal with it. So Kant pushed away his internal desire to force Fadel to face the truth. He pushed a hand through his hair and said, “Are you guys hungry? We brought you some food.”

“You’re the best,” Bison said, clearly for more reasons than the food. “We didn’t get a chance to eat.”

Fadel grunted but accepted a takeout container, and looked suspiciously at Style, probably because Style had proven that he knew exactly what Fadel liked to eat. But he sat down to eat anyway. Style stood behind him and rubbed his shoulders, and Fadel sighed but didn’t argue. As soon as he’d had a few mouthfuls, he stopped eating and carefully put his utensils down.

Bison’s gaze focused on this like a laser. “Are you nauseous?”

“I’m fine,” Fadel said.

“I told you not to lie to me if you were having symptoms. You’ve probably been nauseous this whole time and just not saying anything to me - ”

“Okay, okay,” Kant said, breaking up the fight before it could really get started. “He’s gonna have some symptoms, Bison, if he has a concussion. He doesn’t need to give you a minute-by-minute update on how he’s feeling. If his CT scan was clear, then we know he’s not in any real danger. He just needs to rest. Fadel, why don’t you lie down? Style can stay with you. Bison, once you’ve eaten, you should get some rest, too. It’s late and we’re all tired. Tomorrow morning, we can talk about what we’re going to do next.”

“Fine,” Fadel muttered, and went over to one of the two beds in the room. Kant assumed his head ached too badly to bother arguing. He lay down, and Style flopped down on top of him, looking as if he intended to use his body to pin Fadel into place.

“Let’s talk on the balcony,” Kant said, gesturing to Bison, who nodded.

The balcony wasn’t fancy, but it had two chairs and a little table. They ate in silence for several long minutes, before Bison said, “Thanks for coming to help out.”

“Thanks for asking me,” Kant said. “But Fadel . . .”

Bison sighed and scrubbed both hands through his hair. “I know. I know. But does it matter? As long as he knows someone is trying to kill us, he’ll take all the necessary precautions. Does it matter if he’s telling himself it’s Ruerat’s gang?”

Kant hesitated, then said, “Yeah, Bison, it does. Lilly raised you. She knows you. She’ll have a much better chance of predicting what you’re going to do and finding you. Like this house your parents own. Are you sure Lilly doesn’t know about it?”

“She might,” Bison admitted. 

Relieved that he had a good excuse to not go back to the island, which would undoubtedly leave him a wreck, Kant said, “Then he has to know. I know that it’s hard to face what Lilly did to you. I know that I can’t understand what that’s like. But we need to be sure that you’re safe from her.”

“I know, but . . . he’s just not gonna want to hear it. I don’t know if he’ll believe it. I mean, I even said, how would Ruerat’s guys have identified us? There’s no way they could have figured out who we are, especially not so quickly, even somehow tracking us out of Bangkok . . . but he just blew me off.”

Kant thought about that for a minute. He thought about everything that had happened so far, and everything Bison had told him. “I might know how to get him to believe us . . . although it might just make things worse. But I have to ask you something first, and I know it’s probably going to upset you, but I think we should talk about it. You said that a couple years ago, Fadel was going to quit because he met someone, but the guy ghosted him. Can you tell me a little more about that?”

“Sure, I guess,” Bison said, and he clearly wasn’t sure why Kant was asking. “But there’s not much to tell. Fadel was head over heels for this guy. He wanted to be able to open a restaurant and have a real life, a real relationship. He talked to Lilly about it and she gave him the okay to quit - and me, too, because we all knew that I wouldn’t keep doing it without Fadel. But then the guy dropped out of contact. I guess he figured out what Fadel does for a living and was too scared to confront him.”

Kant mulled that over. “You guess that, but how would he have figured it out?”

“You seemed to think we were pretty obvious,” Bison said.

Kant shook his head. “I could see it once Chris told me about it, but only because I was looking for it. I think it’s unlikely that someone would just . . . figure it out.”

“What, then?” Bison asked, frowning.

“Well . . .” Kant hated the way he was clearly going to have to spell this out for Bison, and was privately amazed at how thoroughly Lilly had them brainwashed. Even though Bison had accepted that Lilly had only been using them, even with the obvious truth in front of him, he wasn’t seeing it. “What’s more likely? That Fadel’s boyfriend somehow figured out what he does for a living, or that Lilly didn’t want Fadel to quit, so she . . . removed the reason for quitting from Fadel’s life?”

Bison’s face was blank for another second, and then his eyes went wide. “You think Khun Mei . . .”

His voice trailed off. He couldn’t seem to say it.

“Let me guess,” Kant said quietly. “Lilly was so comforting to him afterwards. She told him that he would always have her. That you were all a family and as long as you stuck together, everything would be okay.”

Bison’s lower lip trembled, and he drew in a ragged breath. “I’ll kill her. Fuck, Kant, I’ll - ”

He was halfway to the door back into the hotel room, and Kant quickly grabbed him, pulling him into an embrace. “Hey, easy,” he said, rubbing Bison’s back as Bison shuddered against him. “Let’s not rush into anything.”

“You don’t know,” Bison said. “You didn’t see Fadel after that happened, how he was so convinced that he would never have - a real life, a partner who loved him - do you - ” His voice broke. “Do you really think Khun Mei could do something like that?”

Kant reminded himself that this wasn’t easy for Bison, that Lilly had adopted him when he was only eight years old, that she had been twisting him around his entire life. “I think it’s possible, yeah. This question might seem unrelated, but . . . when you wanted to quit, why did Fadel talk to her, rather than you talking to her yourself?”

Bison pulled away, frowning. “Because there was a higher chance she’d say yes if he was the one who was asking.”

Kant thought about that, then said, “But that’s not really why, is it?”

Bison said nothing.

“The way you’ve talked about her . . . you didn’t want to disappoint her. She scolded you for being too sensitive. You felt like you owed her. But none of that is really why you killed people when she told you to, is it?”

At this, Bison turned away, folding his arms over his stomach. He still didn’t reply.

“I want you to think back to being fourteen, to Lilly telling you that you had a target who was a terrible person. You didn’t want to kill him. So why did you?”

“I don’t know,” Bison said.

“Yes, you do,” Kant said. “I know that you do.”

“I didn’t want to,” Bison said, his voice tight and strained.

Gently, Kant repeated, “So why did you?”

“Because I was frightened,” Bison whispered. 

Kant turned Bison back around and thumbed the tears off his cheeks. “What were you afraid of, Bison?”

Bison swallowed hard, his throat moving visibly. “I was afraid of what she would do if I said no.”

“I know.” Kant smoothed down his hair. “You’ve always been afraid of her, because deep down you’ve always known the sort of person she was, the sort of things she was capable of. That’s how she was able to force you to kill for her for ten years. And I think Fadel knows that, even if he can’t admit it to himself, because he’s always protected you from her. He talked to Lilly so you wouldn’t have to. He kept safehouses for you in case he needed to hide you from her. Fadel knows, Bison. He knows what Lilly has done to the two of you. But it hurts so much that he can’t face it. You have to ask yourself, will you ever feel safe if Lilly’s still out there? Won’t you always be looking over your shoulder for her?”

“That’s why I’m gonna kill her,” Bison said, then shook his head. “But I’m not involving Fadel. He’s been protecting me all this time. Now I’m going to protect him. He’s hurt, and if he - if we tell him that Lilly killed Nam to stop him from quitting, he’ll - he’ll be devastated. How can I hurt him like that? I’ll take care of this.” He looked up at Kant, jaw square, his expression defiant, like he thought Kant was going to argue with him. He repeated it in a firmer tone. “I’m going to take care of this.”

Kant kissed him on the forehead and said, “I’ll help you.”

Bison’s determined face crumbled, and he quickly looked away. Kant drew him into another embrace, and held onto him for a long time.

~ ~ ~ ~

Chapter Text

Luck was with them, in an odd sort of way. The next morning, Fadel still had a severe headache. He insisted on getting up and taking a shower, and they heard him throwing up in the bathroom. Style looked somewhat anxious, and said, “Should we take him back to the hospital?”

Bison shook his head. “It’s normal to have symptoms like this for a few days after a concussion. Depending on how bad it was, they can last weeks or even months.” He saw Style’s curious look and said, “I’ve studied a lot of medicine, actually. It’s probably the only thing I’m better at than Fadel. Who do you think stitched up that knife wound on his chest?”

“I bet you’d make a great paramedic,” Kant said, thinking of that nebulous future where Bison had a normal job, a normal life.

“Maybe,” Bison said, smiling at him. “Fadel’s a terrible patient, though. He’s going to be pushing himself to try to contribute to whatever we do next, even if he can barely stand. It’s your job to sit on him,” he added to Style, who nodded.

Fadel came out of the bathroom a few minutes later, and Style ushered him into a chair, gaining himself an annoyed look. “Okay, we need a plan for today. Let’s - ”

Bison interrupted him. “The plan for today is that you’re going to stay here and rest. I’m going to take your car and drive it south a few more hours. Kant will follow me in the new car, then drive me back up here afterwards. That should get . . . Ruerat’s guys, or whoever is after us, off our immediate trail. We’ll see how you’re feeling this afternoon and renegotiate from there, but the most important thing right now is that we can use that tracker to mislead whoever’s targeting us.”

“Fine,” Fadel grunted. “You’re gonna leave me alone with this prick?” he added, gesturing to Style.

“Try to have some fun,” Bison said, and Fadel rolled his eyes.

Once downstairs, Kant said, “Where are we going? I don’t want to risk getting separated from you in traffic.”

“Yeah, let’s look at a map,” Bison said. “I don’t want to drive as far as I told Fadel I would. If he doesn’t expect us back until later today, he’ll stay put with minimal grumbling, and it gives us time to figure out a plan.”

“Okay.” Kant pulled out his phone. They chose a town about an hour further south, but closer to the coast, where they could theoretically be getting on a boat and going to an island. There was a dock where Bison would leave Fadel’s car and Kant would pick him up.

Just over an hour later, they were both in the sensible sedan that Kant had stolen, heading back to Phetchaburi. They took a detour onto the back roads, finding an isolated area where they could talk. Kant had been thinking about what to do for most of the drive down, by himself, so he opened with, “I know you want to kill Lilly. But would you be okay with Lilly being arrested and put in prison?”

Bison frowned and asked, cautiously, “Why?”

“Because I think that would make things easier in the long run. Remember, the cops are still looking for you. That’s part of why you and Fadel were on the run. It means new identities, not being able to settle in one place, always looking over your shoulder. But if you’re willing to cut a deal with the cops and give them the information they want on Lilly, then they’ll let you and Fadel go. You can come back to Bangkok. Fadel can have his restaurant back. You could stay with me and we could live a normal life together.”

Bison thought about it for a minute. “That sounds good, but . . .”

“But you want to kill her. I know.” Kant reached out and squeezed his hand. “It’s not like I have a moral problem with you killing her. I wouldn’t think less of you for it. Hell, I want to kill her myself, for what she did to you. I’m just trying to think ahead. I want to give you that future that you dreamed of. I want to - to take you to see the aurora. And that will be so much easier if the cops aren’t looking for you.”

After a moment, Bison nodded. “Okay.”

“Would you be willing to talk to the cops? Testify against her if it came to that?”

“I don’t think I could . . .” Bison fell silent. “As long as I’m not in the same room with her, I could do it, but if I had to be in the actual courtroom . . . I don’t know.”

“I think they can make that sort of arrangement,” Kant said. “If the cops take your statement, that’ll probably be enough. I’m going to put the phone on speaker. You can chime in whenever you want, if you have something to say.”

“Okay,” Bison said again.

Kant took out the burner, then took out his own phone so he could look up Chris’ number and call him using the burner. Since it was an unknown number, Chris picked up with, “This is Captain Chris.”

“Hey, it’s Kant,” he said, putting the phone on speaker. “I’m back in touch with Bison and I’ve got some information on his boss.”

“See, I knew you could do it,” Chris said, and Bison rolled his eyes.

“They want to cut a deal,” Kant said.

“That sounds an awful lot like they know you’re an informant,” Chris said.

Kant didn’t dignify that with an answer. “They’ll give you all the information they have on their boss, and Bison will give an official statement that he was working on her orders. You get your big fish to put in prison, and they go free.”

“Hmm . . .” Chris thought about it. “No. It’s not enough.”

“What do you mean?” Kant asked.

“Just their testimony, it’s not enough,” Chris said. “I’ll need more than that. Concrete evidence.”

Kant looked at Bison. He nodded. “Okay,” Kant said. “We’ll see what we can get for you. If we get enough evidence to put her away, you’ll let Bison and Fadel go.”

“I can’t just let them go, Kant. They’ve killed dozens of people.”

Kant took a deep breath, seeing the way Bison’s lower lip trembled. “Captain, why do you think I’m calling you from a different phone? This is a burner with no GPS. Let me explain the situation to you. We’ve already left Bangkok. You have no idea where we are. Bison doesn’t have to give you anything, but we are generously offering to give you evidence on their boss. The only reason we’re doing that is so you’ll close the case against them and they don’t have to look over their shoulder for the cops.”

“For fuck’s sake,” Chris said. “You fell in love with him, didn’t you. How very cliche of you.”

Kant didn’t dignify that with an answer, either. “Right now, we’re less than an hour from the border,” he lied. “We have fake identities already set up. Bison and Fadel have money in bank accounts you know nothing about, and so do I, for that matter. You’ll never find us again. So do you want to land your big fish and get your promotion, or do you want to end this with nothing?”

“What about your brother?” Chris asked.

“We already talked about that, Captain. I already told you that I won’t let you threaten me anymore. I told you to arrest me and charge me with car theft if you were willing to risk what I would tell the judge and the prosecutors. You didn’t then, and you sure as hell can’t do it now that I’m hundreds of miles away.”

Chris was quiet for a moment. “I think you’re bluffing.”

“You can think whatever you want,” Kant said. “I’m hanging up in ten seconds, and you’ll have to live with whatever the end result of this conversation is.”

He looked at his watch, but didn’t count the seconds out loud. He let the silence hang heavy in the air.

With three seconds left, Chris said, “Fine. It’s a deal. They get me enough to bag their boss, and I’ll close out everything we have on them.”

“I’ll be in touch,” Kant said, and hung up.

“Fuck,” Bison said. “Fuck, that was so hot, holy shit - ”

Kant grinned at him. “Ever had sex in the back of a stolen car?”

“Let’s reenact that scene in Titanic - ”

Some time later, the two of them were sprawled in the back of the car, naked, sweaty, and content. Kant had to resist the urge to nap. Their time was somewhat limited. Also, although the road was isolated, it wasn’t exactly secure, and he didn’t want to be seen and arrested for public indecency. So he prodded Bison into getting up and getting dressed, and they started driving back to Phetchaburi.

“So we need evidence on Lilly,” Kant said. “Where do we start?”

Bison let out a breath and said, “With Keen.”

Kant glanced at him. “You haven’t talked about him very much.”

“Yeah. Well. I hate his guts, to be honest. I was sort of thinking about what you said, about how Khun Mei - ” Bison’s throat worked. “How Lilly set up this rivalry between us. The thing is, Keen’s a prick. And some of the reasons I hate him are probably valid. But the way Lilly treated us made everything worse.”

“How so?”

Bison tapped his fingers against his knees, looking out the window. “We were all orphans, and we all dealt with it differently. Keen’s between me and Fadel in age. I was a fucking mess back then. I had awful nightmares, I cried all the time, I was angry all the time. And Fadel dealt with his grief by taking care of me - and trying to take care of Keen. But Keen didn’t want to be taken care of. Keen didn’t want anything to do with me and Fadel. We took it kind of personally, but now that I’m older, I know that he was just grieving in his own way. But we never liked each other, you know? And then we started training. Like I said, Fadel picked everything up like it was easy. I worked hard and I got better. Keen worked hard, too, but he just had no natural talent.

“Does that mean Keen could never be a hitman? No. Just that he would have had to keep working at it. But Lilly always acted so disappointed that he wasn’t as good as me and Fadel. It drove him absolutely nuts. He started being a huge jerk to me and Fadel. We responded by taunting him about how he sucked and Lilly was disappointed in him. It was just this wedge that Lilly drove in between us, and . . . I don’t even know why she did it. Because it’s not like Keen isn’t useful to her. He works as her secretary, and he’s good at it, to be honest. He’s organized and methodical and the work he does for her is probably just as important as the work Fadel and I do. But he can’t see that because Lilly never treated it that way.”

Bison fell silent, and Kant thought about it while he drove. “I don’t see the reason for it either,” he admitted, “but let’s not count out the possibility that she just did it because she’s a horrible human being.”

“Yeah, that’s possible,” Bison said, with an attempt to laugh that died in his throat. “Anyway. Keen knows everything about Lilly. He takes care of all the paperwork, the details, so she doesn’t have to. If we can get him on our side, we can get all the evidence we need.”

“How likely is that to happen?” Kant asked.

“I don’t know. Lilly’s treated him like shit his entire life, but it’s only made him more devoted to her. Fucked up, right?”

“Yeah,” Kant said.

“But I think it’s worth a try. I think if we can get Keen to believe that he’ll never get her approval the way he wants, he might be willing to help us. Which might be easier today than it would have been last week, because I’m pretty sure he was shooting at us the other night.”

“Oh?” Kant asked, trying to imagine being able to shoot at his little brother. Even with a relationship as complicated as this one sounded, he couldn’t picture it. 

“Like I said, Keen is Lilly’s secretary. If she wanted to hire a hitman to take care of us, he’s the one who would have actually taken care of it. And he would have wanted to do it himself. The whole rivalry thing, you know? If he could kill us, it means he’s better than us, and Khun Mei will finally see that and praise him the way he’s always wanted.”

“That is so fucked up,” Kant said.

“Yeah,” Bison agreed. “But he didn’t succeed, which, you know, kind of goes to show why Khun Mei never wanted him in the field to begin with. She’ll be super pissed at him and odds are good she would have lit his ass up. She can be . . .” Bison suddenly looked away. “Cruel. She knows how to hit us where it hurts. So right now, Keen’s already upset with her and maybe a little closer to acknowledging that he’s never going to win her over. Although he’s probably also upset with me; I think I hit him when I was returning fire.”

“You shot him?” Kant asked.

“I shot whoever was shooting at us,” Bison said. “I just clipped his arm, but I think it’s why he took off instead of continuing to shoot. We had better cover than he did. But whatever. He started it.”

Kant pinched the bridge of his nose and elected not to address the grade school level of the argument which had involved firearms. “Okay. What about Fadel?”

Bison’s jaw tightened. “What about him?”

“Today he wasn’t feeling well, so it was pretty easy to put him off. What if he wakes up tomorrow morning feeling fine, and wants to know what we’re up to?”

“I’ll tell him to mind his own business.”

Kant sighed. “There’s no way that would work and you know it.”

“It will, because we’re not going back to the hotel,” Bison said. “The two of us, we’ll go back to Bangkok. Once we’re there, I’ll call Fadel and tell him that I’ve got a lead and we’re taking care of things, and he should stay in Phetchaburi until we’re done. He’ll be furious with me but he won’t be able to find us, at least, not before we’ve wrapped everything up.”

Kant considered that for a few minutes. He felt like Fadel deserved the truth, but how much of that was rooted in his own experiences? It wasn’t like they were lying to Fadel - just not telling him things he didn’t need to know. Truthfully, it probably was better in the long run if Fadel never found out that Lilly had killed his boyfriend. What purpose could telling him serve? It would only make him feel terrible. It couldn’t be undone. Finding out could damage the relationship that Fadel was now building with Style. They would get justice for Fadel and his murdered boyfriend. He didn’t need to do that himself.

Finally, he said, “He’s your brother, so I’ll follow your lead. If that’s what you think is best, and you genuinely think it will work, then let’s go.”

They talked about various possibilities as they drove back to Bangkok. The first place Bison directed Kant to was an abandoned building with an empty pool in the backyard. “This was one of me and Fadel’s stash houses,” he said, and Kant gave him a questioning look. “Lilly didn’t know about it, don’t worry,” he said, misunderstanding the question. It was answered a few minutes later when he pulled a wooden plank out of a wall to reveal a small alcove with a metal box. Bison opened it and Kant saw a stack of cash, two handguns, several clips of ammunition, a flip phone, and some other things he couldn’t immediately identify. “We left this one here in case we needed to come back for any reason. It’s not a lot, but it’s got what we need. Have you ever fired a gun?”

“I’ve never even held a gun,” Kant said.

“Time to learn,” Bison said, and gestured for Kant to follow him out to the pool. Kant took the gun from him, more anxious than he wanted to admit. It was heavier than he thought it would be. “Okay, we’re just going to go over the absolute basics. Hopefully it won’t come to this but I want you to be able to use it if you have to.”

He showed Kant how to hold the gun and how to stand when he was firing, and how to use the sights on the top to aim. Kant took a deep breath, steeled his nerves, and squeezed the trigger.

The bullet hit the back wall of the pool, absolutely nowhere the broken tile Bison had told him to aim for.

“Don’t hold your breath,” Bison said. “You okay? I know loud noises bother you.”

“If I know it’s coming, it’s usually fine,” Kant said. He had been worried that the sound of the shot would catapult him back to that beach, but it hadn’t. The intense focus on what he was doing in the present, along with the fact that he could prepare for it, seemed to help. He tried to keep his breathing steady and pulled the trigger again. This time, he hit a tile about fifteen feet away from where he’d been aiming. “Shit. This is harder than they make it look on TV.”

“You’re still better at it than Keen,” Bison said, laughing. “Keep trying. As you get used to the recoil, it won’t shift your arm as much.”

Kant nodded and tried again. His ears were ringing, but by the time he had gotten through about half the clip, he could shoot within a few tiles of his target.

“That’s good enough,” Bison said. “You don’t need to be an expert. As long as you can get somewhat close, you can cover me or force someone to retreat. If we had ear protection, I’d have you keep going, but it won’t help anything if we’re both deaf.”

“Okay.” Kant found his muscles were sore as he held the gun out to Bison, who showed him how to put the safety on and then had him tuck it into the back of his pants. “What now?”

“Let’s get some dinner and a hotel room, and then I’ll call Fadel. He’s probably crawling up the walls by now. Although since he hasn’t called to yell at me yet, either he still doesn’t feel well or Style has him tied up.”

Apparently it was the former, because when Bison called Fadel’s burner phone, Style picked up and said Fadel was taking a nap. He’d been dizzy and grouchy off and on all day, and Style bitched and moaned about how Fadel was being mean to him. “Like you don’t enjoy it,” Kant said.

Bison snickered and said, “Look, just tell him that Kant and I found a lead and we’re taking care of things, and not to worry about us.”

“Okay, will do.”

The next day, they ended up sitting outside Lilly’s office building in a newly stolen car. Kant wasn’t particularly surprised to see that Lilly had built a successful corporate empire. That probably wasn’t that difficult to do when you had two competent hitmen wrapped around your little finger. He swallowed down his rage and listened to more stories that Bison told him about growing up with Lilly as his mother.

Shortly after noon, Keen left the building, got on a motorcycle, and drove away. They followed him to a hotel with a restaurant on the first floor. “Is he eating lunch by himself?” Bison asked, as he and Kant lurked just out of sight. “What a loser.”

“There’s nothing wrong with going out to eat by yourself,” Kant said, slightly amused.

Bison sighed. “I guess not. See, this is what my relationship with Keen is like. He could rescue children from a house fire and I’d be like ‘pfft, anybody could have done that, Fadel would’ve put the fire out at the same time’.”

Kant chuckled quietly. It wasn’t really funny, but Bison’s way of describing it was. “And it goes both ways?”

“Oh, yeah. Every time I’ve fucked up or gone off the rails in the past ten years, Keen has been on it like white on rice, reminding Khun Mei that I’m unstable, impulsive, et cetera, et cetera. He knows he’ll never be better than Fadel but it was always possible that I might screw up so bad he’d be able to convince Khun Mei that she should give me the boot and promote him.”

Shaking his head at this fucked up family dynamic, Kant said, “You’re better than he thinks you are.”

“Depends on the day,” Bison said. “You know why we had to relocate this most recent time? Because I got drunk off my ass and fired a gun at the ceiling during live karaoke.”

“Holy shit,” Kant said, unsure if he should laugh or cry.

“Fadel literally carried me out of the place over his shoulder and made sure Khun Mei never found out about it. It’s definitely not out of the question that I could fuck up bad enough to make Khun Mei lock me up and throw away the key.”

“Gee, maybe she shouldn’t have forced you to become a hitman,” Kant muttered.

Bison gave him a fond look and said, “Maybe not.”

Half an hour later, Keen finished eating and headed towards the elevators. That surprised Kant and Bison, who had expected him to immediately go back to the office. They jogged up the stairs, listening for the ding of the elevator, and just barely managed to see a hotel room door close behind Keen.

“Who do you think he’s here to see?” Kant asked.

“No clue,” Bison said. “I don’t know shit about Keen’s personal life. I didn’t know Keen had a personal life. I always sort of pictured him going home at the end of the day and plugging himself into a recharge station like a robot.”

“You’re so mean,” Kant said, snickering.

They waited in the stairwell for a little while. Bison quickly grew impatient. After twenty minutes, he said, “Okay, this is bullshit, I’m bored now.”

“Bison - ” Kant said, trying to grab his wrist. “We don’t know who he’s in there with - ”

“Well, we’re not going to find out by standing around out here - ”

“We will if we wait long enough - ”

“What part of ‘I’m bored’ do you not understand?” Bison asked, and Kant had a rather uncharitable thought about how Bison had just been talking about how his impulsivity could get him into trouble. But by the time he’d finished having that thought, Bison was banging on the door to the hotel room. “Keen, you smug prick, I know you’re in there! Open the fuck up!”

A few seconds later, the door opened, and Kant’s heart jumped into his mouth when he saw the man there with the gun, pointed directly at Bison’s face. “You - ”

Bison gave Keen a contemptuous look and said, “Put that down, you asshole. You’re not gonna shoot me.”

“Is that what you think?” Keen asked, his finger tight on the trigger. Kant’s whole body was tense, trying to figure out what to do.

“You shoot me and Fadel will kick your ass,” Bison said. “You can’t prove anything by getting the better of me. Khun Mei won’t care about that. So you wanna piss Fadel off by shooting me before you have whatever grand showdown you two have? Give me a break. You got the total drop on us yesterday and yet you’re the one who got shot. You think I don’t see that bandage on your arm? I know I clipped you, so take your ego and shove it up your - ”

“Okay, okay,” Kant said, seeing that despite the gun, this really was a petty sibling squabble.

“Keen, who are these guys?” another man, who looked closer to Bison’s age, wearing only a tank top and boxer shorts, asked. “Why do you have a gun?”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, you really are here with a hookup,” Bison said.

“Why are you saying that like you don’t bang every hot piece of ass you meet - ”

“Bison - ” Kant said.

“Keen - ” the other man said.

Bison huffed out a sigh. “You’re right, okay? At least about that. You’ve got a boyfriend? Good for you. Will you please just put the fucking gun down so we can have a civil conversation?”

“We haven’t had a civil conversation since you were fourteen,” Keen said. 

“That’s Lilly’s fault, not mine,” Bison said.

“Oh, you think you can use her name now? Disrespectful brat - ”

“Pretentious dickhead - ”

“Enough!” Kant said. “We are in a hallway. People might hear us. You’re both going to be in trouble with that psychopath who calls herself your mother if someone calls the cops because you’re standing in a hotel hallway arguing and one of you is holding a gun. Keen, if you were going to shoot him, you would have done it already, so please put the gun down and let us into the room so we can talk privately.”

“Who’s this asshole?” Keen asked Bison, although he did slightly lower his gun, which Kant supposed was progress.

“He’s my boyfriend, obviously,” Bison said. “Kant, this is Keen, my asshole brother. Keen, this is Kant, my amazing boyfriend. And this is . . .”

Keen sighed. “Nont.”

“Great. Fantastic. Now that we’re all acquainted . . .”

Keen still didn’t completely lower the gun, but he backed up enough to let Bison and Kant into the room, and Kant closed the door behind them. “What do you want, Bison?”

“Did Lilly have Fadel’s boyfriend killed?”

For a bare second, Keen looked surprised, but then the expression immediately turned to a sneer. “Wow, it took you how long to figure that out - ”

“Piece of shit - ” Bison snarled, reaching for his own gun.

Kant grabbed his wrist before he could draw it. “Bison,” he said quietly. “Remember why we’re here.”

Bison’s mouth twisted, and he pulled his arm away from Kant’s grip, but at least he didn’t draw his gun. He took a deep breath, then his gaze flickered to Nont, then back to Kant. Kant saw what he was getting at, and gave a slight nod. “You deal with him, then,” Bison said. “If I keep trying to talk to him, we’ll never stop fighting.”

“Okay,” Kant said, and looked at Keen. “We don’t have to be friends, okay? But Bison and Fadel want out, and it’s clear at this point that Lilly won’t let them go. You jumped on the opportunity to impress her by killing them, but you failed that assignment and she has to be pissed at you about that.”

“What’s your point?” Keen snapped, giving Bison an annoyed look as he went over to the room’s mini-fridge and pulled out a beer.

“My point is, what’s your plan, Keen? You’ve got a boyfriend. I bet Lilly doesn’t know that, does she?” Kant said, and Keen’s jaw twitched. “Aren’t you worried she’ll kill him like she had Nam killed?”

“Keen, what is he talking about?” Nont asked.

“I’ll explain later,” Keen said.

“What’s your plan?” Kant asked. “To impress your mother so much that she’ll magically be fine with you living the life you want? As if she didn’t kill Fadel’s boyfriend and then try to kill Bison and Fadel when they tried to quit? You’re never going to be able to do that, and we both know it. You know what, Keen? I think you know Lilly better than anybody. You’ve been following her around, doing her paperwork, keeping her house in order, for what, a decade now? You know she’s never going to let you go. That’s exactly why you’ve never told her about Nont. You know damn well that the instant she finds out about him, he’s a dead man walking.”

“Keen,” Nont said, more urgently. “What is going on?”

“Nont, please,” Keen said. “I’m not going to let anything happen to you, okay? This asshole is just being dramatic.”

Nont looked dubious, and Bison gave a snort and said, “Tell Fadel’s dead boyfriend that Kant is being dramatic - ”

“What do you want?” Keen demanded, between gritted teeth.

“I want everything you have on Lilly,” Kant said. “Every dirty secret, every scrap of evidence, every invoice, every memo, everything you can dig up on her. Because Bison is going to live the life he wants to live. That’s not up for debate.”

“Why should I give you anything?” Keen asked.

Kant glanced at Bison, who gave a slight nod. “You’ve got three choices here, Keen. Number one, you help us out. Lilly goes to prison for the rest of her life. You and Nont get to ride into the sunset and live whatever kind of life suits you. Number two, you refuse to help us, in which case . . .”

“Hey!” Nont protested, as Bison grabbed him by the elbow and pressed his gun into Nont’s side.

“No!” Keen bit out, his gun snapping back up. “Bison, don’t you fucking dare!”

“Number three,” Kant said, as if this hadn’t happened. “You agree to help us but then screw us over, in which case I’ll make sure Lilly finds out that you have a boyfriend and who it is. Think about it, Keen. You know helping us will get you what you want. The only reason you haven’t already agreed is because you’re still clinging to this childish rivalry that Lilly drilled into you since you were twelve years old. You’re still trying to convince yourself that Bison is your enemy, but we’re not your enemies, Keen. Like I said, we don’t have to be friends. But the bottom line is that Bison and I think you and Nont should get your happy ending together. Lilly doesn’t, and she never will. She never will, Keen. Even if you had managed to kill Bison and Fadel yesterday, that wouldn’t have made a damned bit of difference to Lilly. She still would’ve put a hit out on Nont the second she found out about him. You know that.”

“Son of a bitch,” Keen said, pushing a hand through his hair.

“Put your gun down, Keen,” Kant said, and Keen did. Quietly, Kant said, “Bison, let Nont go.”

Bison nodded and released him, giving him a little shove towards Keen. He tucked his gun away as Keen grabbed Nont and pulled him into an embrace. Keen pressed his face into Nont’s shoulder and squeezed him tightly, and for a second, Kant felt bad for him. Keen was an asshole, but he was just as much Lilly’s victim as Fadel and Bison were. Kant couldn’t imagine what the past few months or years had been like for him - after he had met Nont, fallen in love, wanting to be with him but knowing deep down that Lilly would never allow it.

So he gave Keen a minute to steady out before he said, “What’s it gonna be, Keen?”

“I guess I’ll take door number one,” Keen said.

Kant breathed a sigh of relief. “Excellent choice.”

Keen let go of Nont and said, “Where is Fadel, anyway? I bet he doesn’t know you’re here. He would’ve insisted on doing this himself.”

“He’s got a concussion,” Bison said. 

“Oh, from the day before yesterday?” Keen asked, and Bison nodded. “That woman really ran him right the fuck over.”

“Right? The greatest hitman in Thailand got taken down by a soccer mom.”

“Serves him right,” Keen muttered.

“Shut up, asshole,” Bison said, but then burst out, “Did you see the look on his face,” and suddenly both of them were laughing. Kant decided to be glad they had found something to bond over, even if it was making fun of their tightly-wound, over-achieving, perfectionist older brother.

When they both got over that, Bison gave Keen the burner phone that he had gotten from their stash. “Take this. I’m the most recent call. You’ve got twenty-four hours to contact us and tell us where to meet you to give us what we asked for. If we don’t hear from you, I’ll tell Lilly about nong Nont here.”

Keen flipped him off but took the phone.

Kant steered Bison out of the hotel room, and a minute later, they were back in the car. “I think that went well,” Bison said cheerfully, and Kant laughed so hard he nearly cried.

~ ~ ~ ~

Chapter Text

The first part of the plan went smoothly. Keen called them the next morning. They set up a meeting, and he gave them a jump drive. Just afterwards, Fadel called, and immediately demanded, “Where are you?”

“In a car,” Bison said, which was true, if clearly not the answer Fadel wanted.

“You little shit,” Fadel said. “What are you doing? Style told me you had a lead. What lead? Where are you right now? I’m coming to get you before you do something stupid - ”

“Listen, don’t worry about me, okay?” Bison said. “I’m taking care of business. You just rest up and recover and by the time your headache is gone, I will have cleared the field. Okay? Okay, great.”

“Bison, don’t you dare hang up this - ”

Bison hung up and then turned the burner off. “Man, he’s gonna make me clean that whole kitchen with a toothbrush,” he said, and Kant laughed. “What now?”

“Now . . .” Kant mulled it over. “I think we should check the contents of the jump drive. We can’t completely trust that Keen isn’t trying to ratfuck us somehow. Let’s make sure it actually has incriminating evidence on it. If it does, then I’ll call Chris and we’ll set up a meeting. We can use Heart Burger since it’s closed and Chris already knows about it anyway. He’ll want to review the contents and interview you. Then we can wait for him to arrest Lilly, and once he’s done that, we can contact Fadel.”

“Sounds good,” Bison said. 

“I think that it should be safe enough to go back to my place for now,” Kant continued. “Babe will be at school this time of day, and even if he’s not, he doesn’t know anything about what’s going on. Lilly doesn’t know about me or she would have targeted me already, and Chris won’t be looking for me since we agreed to turn over the goods.”

“Okay,” Bison said. Kant drove them back to his apartment, and they went up the stairs. He got them each a beer from the refrigerator, despite it barely being noon, and ordered some takeout. He figured they might need alcohol before they dove into the jump drive which was surely full of atrocities.

“Let me do this, okay?” he said, as Bison dug into his food. “You don’t need to see all this shit.”

“I’m not that fragile,” Bison said. “I’ve been killing people for ten years. I really doubt anything on that jump drive is going to shock me.”

Kant sighed. “I know, but even so, your relationship with Lilly is complex enough as it is.”

“Ugh, fine,” Bison said, then immediately started looking over his shoulder. Kant sighed but let it go. He started going through the folders of contracts and invoices. Keen had mentioned that most of the correspondence was done by secure text that deleted itself after a certain number of days, so there wouldn't be any emails to look through. Kant had to admit that he found the technical aspects of this somewhat interesting. The contracts were written up in vague, coded language, usually for ‘cleaning services’ or ‘trash removal’. The amount on the contract and the invoice was only a fraction of what he would have expected. But then he found the corresponding bank records Keen had supplied, which showed the payments being made - almost always from unnamed, numbered accounts - exponentially larger than what was on the invoice. It was a clever way of keeping the paperwork from being hard evidence.

“Damn, she really was making bank off of us,” Bison said, thankfully not sounding too upset. “I mean, Fadel and I never cared that much about the money. That wasn’t why we were doing it, you know? And we both had trust funds from our parents that would pay for basically anything we wanted anyway. But you were right; the money she gave us was barely ten percent of what she was making off each hit.”

“Bitch,” Kant muttered, still scrolling. He was trying to decide if this would be enough for Chris. With the contracts being so carefully written, he wasn’t sure. But there were more folders to look through - many of which were named seemingly at random. It took Kant a second to realize they were the names of the hits, when he saw the mob boss’s name. He clicked into that folder and whistled. “Okay, now we’re talking.”

Although the folder didn’t contain a contract, it did have a wealth of other evidence. A complete dossier on the target, surveillance photographs, detailed records of his interactions at the massage parlor where they had killed him. Kant checked the file data and saw all of it had been created about three weeks before he had been killed. There was also a picture of his body, and a record of the bank transfer afterwards.

“You guys took pictures?” he asked Bison.

Bison nodded. “Fadel did. Polaroids, never electronic. We gave it to Khun Mei - Lilly, fuck, I’ve got to get used to that - after the job was done. She sent it to the client as proof. Sometimes it wasn’t necessary, like with this guy, where the hit made the papers. But the targets weren’t always prominent enough to get on the news. Sometimes we couldn’t, depending on the circumstances - like Ruerat, the client specifically asked us to make it a spectacle and kill him at a big event, so we couldn’t stop to take a photo. But that was fine in that case because we knew it would be on the news.”

“Right, Ruerat,” Kant said, scrolling through to find the folder for him. It had similar contents to the mob boss’s folder, but it also had several dozen subfolders. “Huh, wonder what these are . . .”

Behind him, still leaning over his shoulder, Bison suddenly stiffened. “That’s my name,” he said, and when Kant gave him a confused look, he said, “My family name.”

Kant clicked on the folder he indicated, saying, “You said Ruerat killed your parents, so I guess it makes sense that there might be information on them in here. It might have come up in the research.”

Bison said nothing, hovering behind Kant while he opened the folder and found the same dossier, the same surveillance photographs, and the same - 

Kant quickly turned the laptop. “You don’t need to see this.”

“I saw it when it happened,” Bison said, his jaw tightly set. “It won’t look any different in the photographs.”

Kant sighed but decided there was no point in arguing. He turned the laptop back around to display the pictures of Bison’s parents’ bodies. “I don’t get it,” he murmured. “Why would this be in here? I can see Lilly running across information about the people Ruerat had killed when she was researching him as a target, but . . . the record of the bank transfer looks . . . identical . . .”

As he spoke, he started to put the pieces together. His voice trailed off as he came to the inevitable conclusion. Ruerat wasn’t just a target. He was also a client. He wasn’t the sort of person who was going to go to the house of someone who wouldn’t sell him their land and gun them down himself. He would hire a professional. Bison had never mentioned that Lilly had once been a hitman herself, but it made sense that she would have been. How would she have trained Fadel and Bison so thoroughly, so meticulously, if she hadn’t known the trade? She had these photos because she had taken them herself. She had the bank transfer because it was her record of the account being paid in full.

“Bison,” he said, very carefully, “how did you know Ruerat killed your parents?”

“He . . . he had records in his safe,” Bison said. His voice was tight and strained. “We asked Khun Mei about it and she said that he was the one who had killed them. She said she hadn’t told us before because we weren’t ready.”

Kant thought that was interesting. She probably hadn’t planned to ever tell them, because it could lead back to her.  But the money offered for Ruerat’s assassination had been too good. She had gotten greedy. And when it turned out that Ruerat had kept records, she had quickly placed the blame entirely on him, to keep Fadel and Bison from asking too many questions.

“And Lilly was a hitman before she adopted the three of you?” Kant asked. He felt like Bison knew what he was getting at, what the pictures proved, but was trying not to see it. If he could tread lightly until Bison had gotten there on his own, that would be better.

“No, she never told us that she was . . .” Bison’s voice trailed off.

“But she must have been, right? She knew all about it, she trained you and Fadel, she taught you everything you know,” Kant said.

“No, this . . . this doesn’t make sense,” Bison said. “I don’t understand.”

Kant said nothing. He went back into the folder of contracts. It took a lot of scrolling, because this had been ten years prior, but Keen had been thorough in his scraping of Lilly’s system. Kant found the contract with a date that matched, and opened it. ‘Cleaning services’ at a specific address in Sai Mai. “Was this your address? Do you remember?”

“Yeah,” Bison said, his throat working. “Yeah, it was.”

Kant went to the bottom. Two signatures. Ruerat’s, and Lilly’s.

“I’m going to be sick,” Bison said, and suddenly bolted from the room. Kant followed him as he skidded to his knees in front of the toilet and violently threw up everything he had just eaten. He knelt beside him and rubbed his back. It took several long moments for Bison to empty his stomach. Kant got him a cup of water and some tissues. He rinsed out his mouth but then threw up again, dry heaving. Kant waited until the worst of it had passed. When Bison finally looked up, his face was a picture of raw agony. “I’m going to kill her. Kant, I need to kill her.”

“Okay,” Kant said, because there didn’t seem to be any other acceptable response to that. What else could he say in the face of Lilly having done something so abhorrent, so evil? How could Bison’s response to it be anything else? “Okay, Bison, we’ll kill her. I’ll help you. Let’s just think about it, okay? Let’s make a plan and not charge into a bad situation.”

Bison nodded and choked out a sob. Kant pulled him into an embrace, and they sat on the cold bathroom floor while Bison cried into his shoulder. 

It took nearly an hour for Bison to calm down enough to be able to talk. Kant got them both a stronger drink, feeling like they needed it. “First things first,” he said, “what about Fadel?”

As he had expected, Bison shook his head. “I won’t hide it from him,” he said, much to Kant’s relief, “but I won’t tell him until Lilly is dead.”

“Okay,” Kant said. “Secondly, we still need to deal with Chris. I know you’re not going to want to have Lilly arrested and that’s okay. But if we just kill her without giving Chris this evidence, the cops will still be after you. I think if we time it carefully, we can keep that from happening.”

“How?” Bison asked.

“We meet Chris later today, in the evening. We give him all the evidence. It’ll be enough for him to arrest her, but it still takes time to get warrants. Not just an arrest warrant for her, but he’ll want search warrants for her business and her home. If we meet him after business hours today, even if he puts in for them after talking to us, he won’t get them until tomorrow.”

Bison nodded. “So we meet with Chris this evening and then kill Lilly tonight.”

Kant would have preferred to have a little more time to plan, but he knew that they wouldn’t be able to put off Fadel much longer. “Right.”

“You think Chris will still cut us the deal afterwards?”

“He’ll be pissed as hell, so we might still need to lie low for a little while, but I know Chris pretty well. He’ll find a way to say that she was killed resisting arrest and still take the credit for it.”

“What an asshole,” Bison said, rolling his eyes. “So how do we get to Lilly?”

Kant couldn’t help but smile slightly. “I love you, Bison, but that is more your area of expertise than mine.”

“Oh. Right.” Bison tried to laugh. “I can get her to meet us somewhere, I think. If I call and tell her Ruerat’s guys are after us, that Fadel got hurt and is in the hospital - sometimes we met at her office, but when things were hot, we had other locations, safe houses, that we would meet at. When we left, we told her to call us if she needed anything - you know, Fadel said that, after everything she’s done for us - and she said the same to us. So I don’t think she’ll find it strange that I would think Ruerat’s gang was after us, not her, or that I was going to her for protection.”

“Okay. So we set up a meeting. And then . . .”

“Then I’ll kill her.”

Kant sighed. “Can I say something that might upset you?”

“Well, I’m already pretty fucking upset, so I guess you might as well.”

“I’m worried that you’re going to want to confront her. That you’ll want explanations, and once she starts talking, she’ll get you all twisted around again.”

Bison’s mouth tightened. “So I’m not allowed to demand an explanation for what she did to me?”

Kant reached out and took Bison’s hands in his. Bison tried to pull them away, but Kant held on tightly. “Bison, listen. I can’t say ‘I get it’ because I don’t. I know that you’re hurting in ways I can’t even begin to comprehend. You have every right to demand answers from her, just like I honestly believe you have every right to kill her. But you aren’t going to get them. You could demand answers from Lilly until you’re blue in the face. You could put her on the rack and torture her, but you aren’t going to get answers that satisfy you. There is no answer, Bison. The answer is that she’s a cruel, evil person who does cruel, evil things. No matter what she says, you’re not going to feel better. And if you give her the chance, she’ll make you doubt yourself. She knows exactly what buttons to press to manipulate you. So I’m begging you, don’t let her. Let’s set up the meeting, walk in, and shoot her before she even has a chance to open her mouth. And then you’ll be free to live the life you want.”

Bison looked pissed at first, but his expression changed as Kant spoke, and at the end, a few tears had slid down his cheeks. Kant reached up and brushed them away. “I guess you’re right. It’s not like there’s anything she could say that would justify what she did. And she does know exactly what to say that might upset me or distract me.”

“Okay.” Kant leaned in and gave him a light kiss on the mouth. “Thank you. For listening to me.”

They talked a while longer about where they could set the meeting up, and went to look at a few places that Bison and Fadel had met Lilly before. Kant was still hoping they could end the day without being arrested. At around four PM, they went to Heart Burger, and Bison let them in through the back.

Kant called Chris and said, “We’ve got a jump drive for you. Come to Heart Burger and we’ll give it to you, and Bison will give you his official testimony.”

By the time Chris arrived, even though it wasn’t even fifteen minutes, Bison was getting nervous. He was obviously wondering whether or not it was a trap, and whether Chris was going to try to arrest him despite his promise not to. Kant had thought about this, and said, “You can talk to him first. Tell him everything, okay? And then you can leave. I won’t give him the jump drive until you’re clear. You can circle back around and pick me up afterwards.”

Bison agreed to this, and Chris clearly wasn’t happy about it when Kant greeted him and held up the jump drive. “This has enough evidence on it to put Lilly away for the rest of her life, and probably a lot of other people, too. But you don’t get it until you’ve let Bison go, so he’ll give you his testimony first.”

“You really think you’re some sort of bigshot now, don’t you,” Chris said. “You know that this isn’t really how being an informant works, right?”

“I’m not an informant anymore, Captain,” Kant said. “I’ve made that very clear to you. I don’t work for you. I did what you originally asked, and you closed my cases. You had no right to try to force me to start being a narc again. Are you going to cooperate or not?”

Chris sighed and looked at Bison, who was trembling slightly. “Go ahead, then. I’m going to record this so I can listen to it later.”

Kant sat down in one of the booths and gestured for Bison to sit down next to him, which he did. Chris sat across from them. Bison looked at Kant, clearly anxious and unsure what to say. Kant squeezed his hand and said, “Just start at the beginning, Bison, with your parents.”

After a moment, Bison nodded. He cleared his throat and kept his gaze fixed on the table as he gave his parents’ names and said they were murdered when he was eight. He talked about Lilly adopting him, then talked about Fadel and Keen. He knew Fadel’s family name but not Keen’s. He told Chris about Lilly having them attend classes and how she had been kind and comforting at first. Then he talked about how they had started training, but Lilly had always told them it had been for protection.

When he got to their first target and told Chris about how Lilly had told them it was a bad person and they would be making the world a better place, Chris opened his mouth, and Kant kicked him under the table. Chris gave him an exasperated look but took the hint. Bison, still staring at the table, didn’t notice the interaction.

Finally, Bison finished talking. He was shaking, and they stood in the kitchen for a long minute while Kant held him. “You did great,” he said. “Okay? Just take some deep breaths. Take the car down the street and come back in fifteen minutes, and then we can move on to phase two.”

Bison nodded and left the restaurant. Kant went back out to the booth where Chris was waiting, and Chris immediately said, “Don’t tell me you fell for that little sob story.”

Kant’s temper flared, but he bit it down. “You know what’s on this jump drive, Captain? Evidence that Lilly was the hitman who killed Bison’s parents. She murdered them, then adopted him and brainwashed him until he was willing to kill for her. And I really don’t want to hear a single fucking word about what you think of him.”

Chris still looked a little skeptical, but at least he kept his mouth shut. He plugged the jump drive into his tablet and started to go through the contents. Kant resisted the urge to tell him to hurry up. After about ten minutes, Chris said, “Okay. I think we’ve got enough.”

Kant didn’t know what else they possibly could have gotten for him, but kept his temper under control. “So we’re square, right? You’re going to close the cases against Bison and Fadel. And not the same way you closed mine, like you could just dig them back up whenever you wanted to threaten me. You’ve got your big fish, so you’ll never need to contact any of us again.”

“I liked you better when you were a kid who was afraid to go to prison,” Chris said.

“I liked you better when I thought you were going to keep your word about clearing my record if I helped you,” Kant shot back. “Go do your fucking job. I’m done doing it for you.”

Chris looked amused, but at least he left the restaurant without further commentary. Kant had to take a few deep breaths as he watched Chris’ tail lights recede. A few minutes later, he closed up the shop, went out back, and lit a cigarette. Bison pulled up before he had finished it. They drove a few blocks away, and Kant reached out and squeezed Bison’s hand. 

Bison was quiet for a minute, before he finally said, “I’m really glad I met you, Kant. Figuring out all this stuff about Lilly . . . I don’t know that I could have handled it without you.”

Kant squeezed his hand again and said, “You could have. You’re really strong, you know. But I’m glad you didn’t have to do it alone.”

Bison nodded and let out a slow breath. Then he took out his burner phone and dialed. When he spoke, his voice was shaking. “Khun Mei? I - It’s Bison. Fadel’s hurt. I, I don’t know what happened, Ruerat’s guys must have - no, not the hospital, I was afraid to - I don’t know what to do, Khun Mei, what should I do?”

He fell silent for a long moment after that, and finally said, “Okay. Okay, thank you, Khun Mei, I knew you would - okay. Uh huh. It’ll take us about an hour to get there. Okay. Thank you, Khun Mei.”

Bison hung up, and Kant said, “Where are we going?”

“The safe house in Prawet,” Bison said, and gave him the address. “We’re actually pretty close to it. I told her we’d be an hour so we can get there, scope it out, and find a place to lie low and watch her arrival.”

“Got it,” Kant said, putting the address into his GPS.

The location in question was a warehouse that looked like it hadn’t been used for several years. Bison ran a quick circuit through it, and was satisfied that it was empty. There was a back door, and he had Kant help him shove some crates in front of it, to keep anyone else from getting in. “Lilly shouldn’t be expecting any trouble,” Bison said, “but Fadel will yell at me if I don’t cover all my bases.”

“Where should we wait?” Kant asked, looking around. “There’s not much cover in here.”

“No, we don’t want to wait inside, she’d see us when she came in and she’s expecting to beat us here. We’ll wait outside, and go in after she does. Let’s move the car about a block away.”

“Okay.”

“Once she gets here, I’ll go in,” Bison said, “and you can wait outside until it’s over.”

Kant automatically shook his head. “You don’t have to do this alone.”

“I kind of do, though; if Lilly sees you, she’ll know something’s wrong,” Bison said. “I don’t know how she’ll react.”

Kant thought about this. “Is that the reason you’re leaving me out here? Or do you just not want me to see you kill someone?”

Bison shrugged. “Can’t both be true?”

“They can be,” Kant said, “but I’m going in with you. She thinks you’ll be with Fadel and that he’s hurt. Fadel and I are just about the same height and similar build. If I lean on you and keep my head down, she’ll think I’m him.”

“Not dressed like that, she won’t,” Bison said.

Kant couldn’t help but smile. “Remember when I slept over and you let me borrow some of Fadel’s clothes to wear home? I grabbed them from my place earlier. They’re in the trunk of the car. The shirt is long-sleeved so it’ll cover up my tattoos. It doesn’t have to hold up to scrutiny - just keep her from suspecting something’s off long enough for you to pull out your gun and take your shot.”

Bison chewed on his lower lip and said, “You already thought about this, huh? That’s why you grabbed the clothes.”

“I was thinking that I wasn’t going to let you face this alone,” Kant said, and kissed him on the forehead. Bison sighed and leaned against him, and Kant gave him a tight hug for several long seconds.

Ten minutes later, Bison had found them a sheltered spot where they could watch the front door. Kant felt like every nerve and muscle in his body was so tight that it was about to snap. Bison, on the other hand, was now calm and alert. He wasn’t relaxed, but he wasn’t stressed out, either. Kant supposed he had been in situations like this dozens or even hundreds of times. Bison might not want to be a hitman anymore, but he was good at what he did.

About forty minutes after Bison made the call to Lilly, she pulled up. Bison had his gun out and aimed a second later, and it followed her as she went into the building, but he didn’t pull the trigger. Kant could see why not; they were looking at Lilly’s profile, and a solid shot would be difficult to get. It would be much easier to go into the building and wait for her to be facing them.

They gave her a minute to settle in. Then Bison took a deep breath. He stood up and got Kant’s arm over his shoulder. Kant let his head hang down and pretended to stumble along with him, although he was careful of his footing. Bison pushed the door open and they went inside.

For three wonderful seconds, everything went as planned. Lilly got as far as saying, “Bis - ” before Bison had his gun out and fired two shots. They hit her directly in the chest, and she sprawled backwards. Bison drew in a raw breath that sounded more like a sob. Kant looked up to see Lilly’s body, and at that moment, while Bison was still staring at her, he saw movement at the back of the warehouse, a glint of light in the rafters.

“Bison, get down!” he shouted, and shoved Bison to the side just as he heard the crack of the gunshot. They both hit the floor hard, and he felt - 

he felt - 

// like the breath had been punched out of him. Then the pain started, a searing agony that made him choke out a cry despite himself. He instantly tasted blood in his mouth, and it spilled down his chin and spattered onto his shirt. He looked down to //

Bison already had his gun up, even while he was lying on the floor, and fired several shots back. Kant saw a man’s body fall from the rafters and hit the floor with a thud. “The fuck did he get in here?” Bison asked, mostly to himself, since Kant certainly didn’t have an answer. A distant part of his brain noted that there were windows, although most of them looked rusted shut, and probably roof access as well, if someone was able to climb up there -

But then Bison turned and saw the blood on Kant’s shirt and the pool spreading beneath him, and his eyes instantly went wide. “Kant? Kant! Fuck - ” he spit out, shoving Kant’s shirt up to see the wound. It was on his left side, a few inches below his heart. Of course it was, Kant thought. Right where it had been before.

“Okay, okay, stay with me,” Bison said, stripping his shirt over his head. “I’m gonna lift you up a little, it’s gonna hurt like a bitch but I need to see if there’s an exit wound - ”

Kant grit his teeth while Bison eased him upwards. But Bison’s voice remained calm and soothing as he said he was going to put his shirt underneath Kant’s back and lay him back down to keep some pressure on both the entrance and the exit wound. Kant swore, his vision going red with pain. Something hard was pressing into the opposite side of his back, and he couldn’t manage to lay flat the way Bison was telling him to. But Bison was distracted, already taking out his phone and calling emergency services. “I need an ambulance, someone’s been shot,” he said, and dictated the address, all while using one hand to keep pressure on Kant’s chest using the tank top he had been wearing underneath his shirt. 

It was his gun, Kant realized. The gun Bison had given him, which he had tucked into the back of his pants. That was why he couldn’t lay flat. He tried to reach back and grab it, and choked out a grunt and a mouthful of blood. “Easy, easy, don’t try to move,” Bison said. “You’re gonna be fine, Kant, I promise, I’m gonna get you to the hospital and you’re - ”

There was a strange noise that Kant didn’t recognize, and his vision, although blurry, picked up motion. Bison whipped around as Lilly got back to her feet and then froze, stunned. “Honestly, Bison,” Lilly said. “Did you really think I’d fall for that?”

“I - ” Bison stammered, and then fell silent.

Lilly put her foot on his gun and kicked it away. “Where’s Fadel?”

“You - but - ” Bison couldn’t get himself together enough to answer her coherently, but Kant, even through the pain, could see what had happened. Lilly had known it was a trap. She had worn a vest. The bullets had still hit her and knocked her down, and it had taken her a minute to get back up, but now she was on her feet. She had clearly hired some other hitman to come with her, and he had found another entrance and waited in the rafters for them.

“Focus, Bison,” Lilly said, taking out a gun of her own. “Where’s your brother?”

“He - he’s not - he’s hurt, I told you, he’s hurt, that wasn’t a lie,” Bison said. His hands were curled in the fabric he was pressing against Kant’s chest. “You tried to have us killed.”

“You tried to leave me,” Lilly said. “After everything I’ve done for you - ”

“No, but,” Bison said, his mind clearly spinning. “But you killed our parents.”

“I only did that because Ruerat wanted them dead,” Lilly said. “I made sure you were taken care of afterwards, didn’t I? Wasn’t I always good to you?”

“You . . .” Bison choked out a sob. “I’m sorry, Khun Mei. Please just let me take Kant to the hospital. He’s - ”

“He’s not going anywhere until you tell me where I can find Fadel,” Lilly said.

Kant tried to take a deep breath, which was a mistake. It set his whole chest on fire. The taste of blood was thick in his mouth. But even as the world dimmed around the edges, he knew he had to do something. Bison wasn’t going to be able to handle this. Even if he still had his gun, he wouldn’t be able to. Like Kant had feared, as soon as Lilly started talking, she could twist Bison’s mind in whatever direction she wanted. So he would have to take care of this. He would take care of Bison. He would do what Bison couldn’t.

He reached for his gun again. More blood spilled out of his mouth, and he had to grit his teeth against a new wave of pain. But he was getting used to it. He was familiar with pain. He could endure any amount of pain if it meant that Bison got his happy ending. He managed to get his hand around the grip of the gun and slowly free it from his belt.

“I - I don’t know where he is, Khun Mei, we split up - ” Even as upset as he was, Bison was still thinking clearly enough to protect his brother. “I told him it was your guys targeting us, not Ruerat’s, he didn’t believe it, he was mad at me, so I - I came back to Bangkok and I don’t know where he went after that - please, please, Khun Mei, just let me help Kant - ”

Lilly sighed. “Let me explain what’s going to happen, Bison. You already know that Kant’s injury is serious and he needs immediate medical attention or he won’t survive. You’ve called emergency services. In a few minutes, they’ll walk through that door. If you haven’t told me by then where I can find Fadel, I’ll shoot the paramedics and kill them. Kant will die in your arms, and then I’ll shoot you and go find Fadel anyway. So it really will be easier and better for you if you just tell me.”

Kant had to hold his breath as he pulled the gun out from underneath himself. He was afraid if he made a sound, they would figure out what he was doing. So far, they were so focused on each other that they hadn’t noticed him moving. Despite his best efforts, a little whimper escaped him, and Bison’s hands curled tighter in the remains of his tank top, but Lilly didn’t look at him.

“I’ll do anything if you’ll just let me help him,” Bison said. “Please, Khun Mei. I’ll kill for you again. I’ll do it the rest of my life. Just let me help Kant. Please, I’m begging you.”

“All I want you to do is tell me where Fadel is.”

Bison looked down. “And - and if I do - you’ll let Kant go?”

“I’ll let the paramedics take him. After that, what happens . . .” Lilly shrugged. “Isn’t up to me.”

Her gun was still pointed at Bison. That was a problem, Kant thought. When he shot her, she might instinctively pull the trigger. He shouldn’t have any trouble hitting her. She was only a few feet away. Of course, she was still wearing her vest, but as long as he could hit her, Bison could finish it. But he couldn’t risk that she would shoot Bison.

“I - we - we were in Phetchaburi but I really don’t know if he stayed there - ”

Lilly sighed. “You have a burner, right? And you have his number. Call him. Find out where he is,” she said. Bison hesitated, and she said, “Clock’s ticking, Bison. If I don’t have a location by the time the paramedics get here . . .”

“Okay, okay!” Bison hastily picked his phone back up, still using one hand to hold his tank top to Kant’s wound. He tried to dial one handed, but his hands were shaking and covered with blood. The phone slipped out of them and clattered onto the floor.

“For heaven’s sake,” Lilly said. “Give it to me.”

“Oh - okay - ” Bison held the phone out to her, and she grabbed it impatiently. 

In that brief moment, she lowered her gun so it was pointing at the floor. Kant jerked his arm up, a surge of adrenaline flooding through him, and pulled the trigger.

The noise was astonishingly loud, and he flinched away from it. Pain from the recoil ripped through his chest, and the world went black for a moment. Kant fought to stay conscious through the pain, trying to breathe and nearly choking on the blood. He almost didn’t recognize Bison when he grabbed the gun out of Kant’s hands, staggering to his feet. Lilly was struggling to get up, but Bison didn’t let her. Kant managed to focus enough to see Bison pull the trigger, not just once but over and over again until the gun clicked dry. Even then, for several seconds, he still continued to try to fire. Finally, he dropped to his knees beside Kant.

“Kant, hey, hey, stay with me, stay with me, look at me - ” Bison patted the side of Kant’s face, and Kant felt Bison’s tears splash down onto his skin. “Stay awake, Kant, you have to stay awake - ”

Kant swallowed blood and nodded. He opened his mouth to say something reassuring, like he had before. ‘It’s okay,’ he had said. He needed to tell Bison that it was okay. But what came out was, “I don’t want to leave you.”

“I know, I know, you’re gonna be fine, just hang in there, paramedics will be here any second - ”

Kant couldn’t say how, but he knew he was going to die. It felt like fate. This second chance had been for Bison, not for him. That was what he had prayed for. And he had done it. He had freed Bison from the cage that he hadn’t even known Bison was trapped in. Bison would be able to live the life he wanted. Kant had never deserved a second chance. He had to make sure that Bison would take his.

“Bison,” he murmured, “if I don’t make it - ”

“No, no, don’t talk like that, you’re gonna be okay - ”

“ - you still have to - go see the aurora,” Kant managed. “I know it was your dream. You still have to do it. You have to live the life you want to live.”

“I don’t want to live that life without you,” Bison said, tears trickling down his cheeks. “I always thought - when I went to Iceland, I’d be alone. I don’t want to go alone anymore. I want you to go with me. I only want to see the aurora if you’re there to see it with me.”

Kant didn’t know what to say to that, and the world was growing dark around the edges. “I love you, Bison,” he said. “As long as you can be free - then it was worth it. Don’t blame yourself. It was all worth it.”

Abruptly, before he could hear Bison’s response, the world went black.

~ ~ ~ ~

Chapter Text

“Kant? Kant!” Bison felt hysteria rising in his throat as Kant’s body went limp and slack. “Kant, no, you can’t - you can’t die, you can’t - ”

Kant choked out another mouthful of blood, but didn’t regain consciousness. Bison forced the emotions back down into his gut. Kant was still breathing; it was easy to see because his breathing had become so labored. Bison checked his pulse and found it rapid, slightly faint, but very definitely still present. Kant had passed out from the pain and the blood loss, but he wasn’t dead, not yet.

The door to the warehouse opened and two police officers came in, which Bison realized made sense. He had reported a gunshot victim; the police would need to clear the scene and make sure it was safe for the paramedics to come in. He held his hands up but said, “Please, my boyfriend, he was shot, he needs help.”

Seeing no immediate danger, the cops allowed the paramedics in. They seemed momentarily stymied by the three bodies. Bison quickly gestured them over to Kant, and one of them did come over, although the other went to check on Lilly and whatever second rate hitman she had hired. He only had to look at Lilly to know that she was beyond saving, and checked the pulse on the hitman before he came over and joined the first paramedic at Kant’s side.

Bison forced himself to focus on the details. It was interesting to watch the paramedics work. He knew he was good at the medical side of their job, although it didn’t come up often, and Fadel had also mentioned that he might think about getting work as a paramedic or even going to medical school someday. So he watched as they checked Kant’s vitals, started an IV, applied pressure to the wounds. He listened to the way they talked to each other, calm and professional.

“Can I go with you in the ambulance?” he asked, as they got Kant onto a stretcher.

“I’m guessing the cops might want to talk to you first,” the paramedic said.

Bison quickly turned and said, “Can you - call Captain Chris - Kant and I are informants that work with him, we were trying to get evidence from this woman Lilly - we just talked to him earlier today, he can confirm - ”

The two police officers glanced at each other, and one of them said, “The car thief, right?” and Bison nodded vigorously. “Okay, go ahead to the hospital. We’ll have Chris meet you there.”

“Thanks,” Bison said, and bolted after the paramedics.

The ride to the hospital was fortunately short, but by the time they got there, Bison was practically beside himself. He could see the way Kant’s condition was deteriorating, the way he was growing pale and his lips and fingers were turning blue from lack of oxygen, a sure sign that the blood loss was becoming life-threatening. The paramedics asked him if Kant had any allergies or medical issues that he was aware of, and he tried to stay calm, but only barely managed to hold the panic at bay. If Kant died, he didn’t know what he would do.

Once they reached the hospital, Kant was rushed into surgery, and Bison was shown to a room where he could wait. He tried to pull himself together and managed to get out his phone and dial Fadel.

“Where the fuck are you?” Fadel demanded.

“Can you - come to Bangkok?” Bison said, his voice trembling. “Kant’s hurt, I - ”

“I’m already in Bangkok, you moron!” Fadel shouted. “I made Style rent a car and drive me back earlier today. That was obviously where you had gone. Where are you right now?”

“At - the hospital - ”

“Which one?” Fadel asked, and Bison told him. “I’m on my way. Don’t go anywhere, you got that? If you move an inch off those hospital grounds, I’ll beat you black and blue.”

Bison hung up and sank into a chair, folding his arms over his stomach and trying to keep his breathing steady. He didn’t want to have to explain everything to Fadel, not now, when he was barely holding himself together. He knew that Fadel was going to want answers, that Fadel deserved answers, but he just didn’t know if he was up to that.

And things immediately got worse because when Fadel arrived about fifteen minutes later, Style was with him. Of course Style would be with him, Fadel had a broken arm and couldn’t drive, but Style was pale and immediately asked, “What happened? Kant’s hurt? How badly?”

Bison scraped together some self-control but kept his attention on Fadel, so he wouldn’t have to see the look on Style’s face. “He was shot.”

“Where?” Fadel asked.

“Here,” Bison said, tapping his chest two inches below his heart.

“Exit wound?” Fadel asked.

Bison nodded. “Straight through.”

Fadel knew what all that meant, not just the words but the implications, but Style asked, “What the fuck are you two talking about? What does that mean?”

With surprisingly gentle patience, Fadel said to him, “It has to do with how serious the injury is. It sounds bad, and it is bad, but it could be a lot worse. If you’re going to get shot almost anywhere, the bullet going straight through is one of the better possibilities. If it ricochets or breaks apart, it causes a lot more damage. That location’s not bad, either - it’s below the heart but above most of the other major organs. I’m sure his lung is punctured and it might have collapsed, but he still would have been able to breathe with his other lung. The primary concern would be blood loss. Bison, how long - ”

“Paramedics got to us in less than ten minutes,” Bison said.

“So that’s not bad, either. It’s no sure thing that he’ll make it, but straight through-and-through gunshot wounds have a better prognosis than most people expect.”

Bison managed to start breathing again. He knew that Fadel was right. That was something Lilly had taught them. They couldn’t just shoot someone and assume they would die. Even if they hit a major organ or punctured both lungs, medical science was advanced enough to save people from critical injuries. ‘Never walk away unless you’ve checked a pulse,’ Lilly had always said. He didn’t know whether or not Kant would survive, but he could survive. It was possible.

When he didn’t say anything else, Fadel asked, “What happened?”

“We went after the people trying to kill us,” Bison said.

“Damn it, Bison,” Fadel said. “What the fuck were you thinking? Why didn’t you call me?”

“You were hurt,” Bison said. “You’re still hurt. You should be resting.”

“For fuck’s sake - ”

“Don’t,” Bison said, his throat feeling tight and sore. “Don’t tell me that Kant might be okay if I had called you. Do you think I don’t fucking know that?”

Fadel sighed and pushed his hand through his hair. Then he hooked an arm around Bison’s shoulders and pulled him into an embrace. Bison pressed his face into Fadel’s shoulder and tried to choke back the tears that welled up. “Just try to take it easy, Bison,” he said. “Once Kant is out of surgery, we can talk.”

Bison nodded, and Fadel was still holding onto him a few minutes later, when Chris walked in. Bison did his best not to glare at Chris. He knew that Kant hated him, for good reason, but he also wanted not to end up in prison. “Captain.”

“What the hell happened?” Chris asked.

Kant and Bison had talked about what they would say to Chris, although Bison hadn’t pictured being the one who would actually do it. He said, “Lilly must have known I was talking to the cops.” He shot a nervous glance at Fadel, who hadn’t heard the full story, or even a quarter of the story, yet. “She came after us at the safe house that we were hiding out in.”

“Lilly did?” Fadel interrupted, and Style tried to shush him.

“The plan was for her to be arrested,” Chris snapped. “Not have her head blown off.”

“What?” Fadel asked, more loudly.

Bison winced but kept his focus on Chris, saying, “Well, I wasn’t gonna let her kill us both, so I’m not going to apologize, if that’s what you’re after. Kant was shot and she said she would kill the paramedics when they showed up - ”

“Hey!” Fadel grabbed Bison by the arm and twisted him around. “What the fuck are you talking about?” he shouted, and when Bison just looked away, yelled louder. “What the fuck did you do?”

“I - ” Bison tried to say, but his chest was tight and sore. He suddenly couldn’t breathe. “Fadel, I - ”

“You went to the cops?” Fadel demanded. “After everything Khun Mei did for us, you betrayed her?”

“Fadel - ”

“How could you? How could you do that, for what, some guy who thinks he’s hot shit that you’ve known for two months - ”

“She killed our parents!” Bison shouted, wrenching his arm back. Fadel reacted as if Bison had slapped him, physically recoiling. “She killed Nam!”

“What - ” Fadel’s eyes were wide, and he couldn’t seem to finish the question. “What are you - ”

Bison couldn’t breathe. His throat felt like it was on fire; his heart was hammering so hard that he thought it might beat out of his chest. He was suddenly dizzy. 

“Oh, hey, okay,” Style interrupted. “Bison, you need to sit down, okay? You look like you’re about to pass out.”

Bison shook his head, but Style already had him by the elbow and was ushering him into a chair. He sat down with his head between his knees. When this had happened to Kant, Bison had always sat beside him, stroked his hair and rubbed his back. He wanted Kant to be there with him, but he wasn’t. He couldn’t be there and he might never be there again, and Bison knew that was his fault. Kant had told him not to blame himself, but how could he not? Why had he called Kant for help instead of telling Fadel what was going on? What was wrong with him?

He felt a hand on his back. Fadel’s hand, of course. It rubbed up and down his spine. Fadel didn’t even say anything; he didn’t have to. His hand went up, and Bison breathed in. It went down, and Bison breathed out. Years of nightmares as a child and hysteria after being forced to commit murder had drilled this into him. Every time he had fallen apart, Fadel had sat with him just like this until he pulled himself together.

“You’re Fadel?” Chris asked, and Bison wanted to tell him to mind his own business, but couldn’t squeeze out a syllable. “What Bison’s saying is true. Kant brokered a deal to clear your records if they turned over evidence of Lilly’s crimes. I’ve reviewed it enough to know that Lilly used to be a prominent hitman herself, and Ruerat hired her multiple times to kill people who were getting in the way of his corporate empire - including your parents and Bison’s. She adopted you afterwards so she could train you to be her successors.”

Fadel said nothing for a few seconds. Then he said, “And Nam - ”

“I haven’t seen that name in what I’ve looked at so far,” Chris said.

Bison managed to take a deep breath and look up. “She didn’t want you to quit. She knew that Nam was the reason you wanted to, so . . . and this time, when we tried to quit, she tried to have us both killed. I’m sorry, Fadel, I should have just told you, but you were already hurt and I was . . . I was freaking out a little. Kant said he would help me handle it. We got everything to the cops but Lilly must have known we were talking to them,” he added, because he wouldn’t say anything about deliberately luring Lilly into an ambush until Chris was gone. “She came after us.”

Fadel pushed a hand through his hair and said, “Let’s talk about it later.”

Pulling himself together a little, Bison remembered what Kant had said about Chris. “You still get your big fish, Captain. Lilly was killed resisting arrest . . . right?”

Chris rolled his eyes and said, “I can see Kant’s influence on you. Fine, then. That works as well as anything could.”

Bison nodded and put his head back down. He felt some equilibrium returning to him, although he thought that might just be because exhaustion was setting in.

Then Chris said, “Has anyone notified Kant’s younger brother that he’s here?” and Bison’s calm was instantly destroyed. His head jerked up and tears immediately spilled over. He had been so panicked that he hadn’t even thought about Babe. How was he supposed to face him after getting Kant killed? “I see that’s a no,” Chris said. “I’ll go pick him up.”

“Don’t - ” Bison choked out.

Chris sighed. “You and Kant were working together, at my request, to try to bring down a dangerous criminal, and Kant was seriously hurt and is in the hospital. The criminal was killed resisting arrest. That’s all that Babe needs to know.”

“Thank you,” Bison said, wiping tears off his cheeks.

Chris left, and the room fell silent. Style got Bison a cup of water, and he sipped it slowly while his stomach churned.

“Khun Mei really . . .” Fadel began, but then shook his head. “Never mind. We’ll talk about it once Kant is out of surgery. Let’s get you cleaned up before Babe gets here.”

“Mmkay.” Bison let Fadel steer him into a bathroom. His hands and arms were covered in blood up to his elbows. There were splashes on his chest and face as well, both from when Kant had been shot and when he had killed Lilly. Fadel helped him scrub them away, then took off his outer shirt so he was wearing only his tank top, and gave it to Bison to wear. They couldn’t do anything about the blood on his pants, but that was fortunately minimal. “I’m sorry, Fadel.”

“Save your apologies,” Fadel said. “You did what you thought you had to do.”

Bison nodded, although a distant part of him noted that Fadel was channeling his inner turmoil the same way he always had - by taking care of Bison. He settled back into a chair in the waiting room, then sprang out of it a minute later when a nurse came into the room.

“Okay, Khun Kant is out of surgery,” she said, and Bison nearly sobbed in relief. “His condition is serious but he’s stable for now. The blood loss was fairly severe so it may be some time before he wakes up. They’re transferring him to the ICU now.”

“Can I see him?” Bison asked.

“Only immediate family is allowed in the ICU,” the nurse said.

Bison thought he might pass out, and Style quickly spoke up. “Kant’s parents died when he was young, and his only family is his younger brother, who he takes care of. I don’t think we should send Babe in to see him alone; he’s still just a kid. Would it be okay for Bison to go with him, even if it’s only for a few minutes?”

The nurse’s face softened, and she said, “That should be fine. I’ll let the charge nurse know.”

“Thank you,” Bison said, and the others echoed him.

Babe arrived a few minutes later. Chris brought him to the room where the others were waiting, but didn’t stay. Bison took a moment to be grateful that Babe hadn’t arrived until he could give an update on Kant’s condition. “Kant’s out of surgery and he’s stable, okay?” he said to Babe, who was clearly beside himself with worry. “He’s not out of the woods yet but so far, so good.”

“Captain Chris only told me that - that you two were doing work for the police,” Babe said. “What’s going on? Why would - ”

“Listen, Kant will give you the full story when he wakes up, okay?” Bison said, because he didn’t know what Kant would want to tell Babe. “Don’t worry about it for now.” He managed a smile and said, “He saved my life, you know. That guy shot at us and he shoved me and that’s how he got hurt.”

Babe tried to smile back and wiped tears off his cheeks. “That sounds like him.”

Fadel looked up at this and said, “Kant took a bullet for you?”

“Yeah,” Bison said.

“Fuck,” Fadel muttered. “Now I’m gonna have to respect him.”

Bison choked out a laugh that made his chest hurt. “Sorry, Fadel. I can’t help you with that.”

About a half an hour passed, and then the nurse returned and ushered Babe and Bison down a few hallways and to a curtained off area. Kant was lying in the narrow hospital bed, and he looked terrible. His face was pale and his hair was a mess. He had an IV in one arm and Bison saw the bag of blood hanging for the transfusion. There were monitors on his chest and a tube going down his throat. Bison ruthlessly forced down his reaction to seeing Kant like this, because Babe was already crying. “What - what’s the tube for? Is he - is he - ”

The nurse spoke soothingly. “It’s normal to be intubated during surgery. It should come out soon, unless he starts having problems breathing on his own.”

As she spoke, the curtain was pushed further aside and the doctor came in. Bison quickly bowed and thanked him for saving Kant’s life. “How is he?”

“His condition is stable,” the doctor said. “My chief concern is the amount of blood he lost.”

Despite Babe clinging to his elbow, Bison couldn’t help but ask, “Did he go into hypovolemic shock?” Seeing the doctor’s surprised look, he quickly added, “Oh, uh, I’m a med student. Only first year so far, but I’ve studied a lot.”

The doctor nodded and his tone changed slightly. “Yes, just after he got into the operating room. We were able to quickly get his fluid volume back up so it wasn’t as severe as it could have been. The bullet didn’t hit any major arteries. One of his ribs was broken and of course his lung was punctured, but otherwise there were no internal injuries.”

Bison knew that hypovolemic shock could cause organ damage, including brain damage if there wasn’t enough oxygen circulating. But it sounded like it probably hadn’t lasted very long. “I, uh, I guess he must have a chest tube in?”

“Yes, there were no issues with that procedure. His lung has been reinflated and the chest tube will remain in for a day or so. In the next hour, we’ll extubate him - take the breathing tube out,” he added for Babe’s benefit. “As long as that procedure goes well, we should be able to transfer him from the ICU to the regular floor tomorrow. However, it might be some time before he wakes up.”

“Is he in a coma?” Babe asked, his voice trembling.

“No,” the doctor said. “He’s not conscious, but he wouldn’t expect him to be after such major trauma and resultant surgery. It’s likely he won’t regain consciousness until tomorrow or the day after, and even then it will likely only be for a few minutes at a time. His body needs to focus all its energy on healing right now, so there won’t be a lot leftover for anything else.”

“But he’s going to be okay, right?” Babe asked anxiously. “He’s not going to die?”

The doctor’s voice was gentle. “Barring complications, his prognosis is good.”

“Barring - what does that mean?” Babe asked.

Bison squeezed Kant’s shoulder. “It means right now, everything’s going as well as it could be, so unless something else goes wrong that the doctors can’t predict, then Kant will be okay. We just have to be patient with Kant and make sure we watch him closely so if anything does go wrong, we’ll see it right away.”

Babe nodded, and Bison ushered him into the chair next to Kant’s bed. They both thanked the doctor again, and he went to tend his other patients. Bison let out a breath as Babe held Kant’s hand and put on a brave face, telling his unconscious brother that he wasn’t worried, not a bit, because he knew how strong Kant was. Bison reached out and brushed a stray lock of hair back out of Kant’s face. There was so much he wanted to say, but he didn’t know how to say any of it while Babe was sitting there.

But he didn’t want to say nothing. Kant needed to hear his voice, needed to know he was there. So when Babe finished talking, Bison put his hand on Kant’s shoulder, squeezing it gently. “Thank you, Kant,” he said softly. “I love you. So don’t leave me, okay? Don’t you dare leave me.”

Kant didn’t reply, of course, and his chest continued to rise and fall mechanically. Bison closed his eyes and took deep breaths, reaching out to whatever deity might be listening. Please let him be okay , he whispered internally, where Babe couldn’t hear. Please. He’s done so much for me and I couldn’t have done this without him. I don’t want to have to live without him. I’ll protect him for the rest of my life so please, please, let him be okay. Please.

~ ~ ~ ~

Minutes slid by and turned into hours. The breathing tube was taken out, and Bison nearly cried from relief when the procedure went without issue and Kant continued to breathe on his own afterwards. The blood transfusion slowly continued, and some color began to return to Kant’s cheeks. Babe dozed off, leaning against the bed, his face pillowed on Kant’s forearm.

Bison’s burner phone rang, and he startled as he realized he had gone back to see Kant and completely forgotten about anyone else’s existence. He answered it, knowing it was Fadel, and said, “Sorry, I was just - not paying attention to the time.”

“How is he?” Fadel asked.

“Not bad, considering,” Bison said. “The surgery went well. He’s breathing on his own but still unconscious. The doctor said he probably won’t wake up until tomorrow or the day after, but they’re going to move him to the regular floor in the morning as long as he’s still stable.”

“Okay.” Fadel hesitated. “Do you want me to stay?”

“No, that’s stupid since you can’t be back here. Have Style take you back to his place. Call me tomorrow morning once you’re up.”

“Okay,” Fadel said again. “Listen - I shouldn’t have shouted at you earlier. I just - ”

His voice broke off. Bison said, “I know,” and then added, “It’s a lot to unpack. I should have told you from the beginning but I was worried about you.”

“You tried to tell me, though,” Fadel said. “When we got shot at in Phetchaburi and I said it was Ruerat’s guys, you asked how they could have found us so fast and I blew you off. Because maybe there was a part of me that knew - deep down - that Khun Mei would never let us go. If I hadn’t done that, you might have told me the rest, but you thought I wouldn’t believe you and I can’t blame you for that.”

Bison wiped tears off his cheeks. “Yeah. I thought I could just handle it myself and then - you’d be okay with it somehow.”

Fadel was quiet for a few seconds, then said, “Just don’t worry about any of it for tonight. Tomorrow, once Kant has been transferred, Style and I can take over for a little while and you can get some rest.”

Bison wasn’t going to go anywhere as long as Kant was in the hospital, but he hoped that he would at least be able to sit down. “Okay. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

One of the nurses brought him a chair, so he was able to sit down with Kant and hold his hand. They checked on him frequently and reassured Bison that his condition was stable, his vitals looked good, and it wasn’t worrisome that he wasn’t waking up yet. Bison drank strong coffee and didn’t bother to try to sleep.

Just after dawn, a different doctor came in and shooed them out for a while so he could look everything over. Afterwards, he said, “He’s recovering well, at the pace we’d expect. It doesn’t look as if there’s any organ damage from the blood loss. We’re going to move him up to the floor now. It takes a little while to coordinate - you two should go get some breakfast. The nurse can call you once he’s settled in.”

“Okay,” Bison said, and thanked him, and then steered a sleepy Babe towards the cafeteria. He got more coffee and they both had some rice porridge and some fruit. Bison wasn’t really hungry, but forced himself to eat. After about forty-five minutes, the nurse called and gave him a room number.

“Did he wake up at all?” Babe asked the new nurse, who introduced herself to them as Dot, in an eager tone.

“No,” Dot said, “but we wouldn’t expect that yet.”

Babe slumped slightly, but took the chair next to the bed again. This room had more space, so Bison was able to sit on Kant’s other side. His breathing was slow and even. The oxygen mask he had been wearing in the ICU after the breathing tube had been taken out had been replaced by a nasal cannula. Bison resisted the urge to peek under the bandages to see how things looked.

Fadel called a half hour later, and Bison said, “He’s still unconscious but he’s been transferred to the floor. The doctor said things are going at the rate he’d expect.”

“Have you eaten?” Fadel asked.

“Yeah, we ate at the cafeteria,” Bison said.

“Okay. We’ll be there soon.”

Bison stared at Kant, chewing on his lower lip, and watched him sleep until Fadel and Style arrived. Style greeted Babe and tousled his hair before sitting down next to him and giving Fadel a significant look. Bison sighed. “I guess we have to talk.”

“No, you have to sleep,” Fadel said. “You look almost as bad as the guy in the hospital bed. When was the last time you got a good night’s rest? Don’t answer that, just lie down.”

“I have to stay with Kant - ”

“I’m not telling you to leave, am I?” Fadel retorted. “There’s a recliner. Use that.”

Bison grumbled, but he was very tired, and he couldn’t argue with the idea of getting a little rest. “Okay, but wake me if Kant does, or if the doctor comes in, or if anything happens - ”

“Sleep,” Fadel said firmly, and pushed him towards the recliner.

Bison curled up, still muttering to himself, and immediately fell asleep. He woke a while later without any idea of how much time had passed, with a blanket tucked around his shoulders. He pushed a hand through his hair and looked around blearily. Style and Babe were playing cards on the little side table while Fadel scrolled on his phone. “Time’s’it?” he mumbled.

“About two o’clock,” Fadel said.

“AM or PM?”

“PM,” Fadel said. 

Bison figured he had slept about four or five hours, which should be enough for the day. “Has Kant woken up at all?”

“Not yet,” Fadel said, and saw the way Bison’s shoulders tightened. “It’s nothing to worry about yet, Bison. He has a lot of healing to do. He’ll wake up when he wakes up.”

Bison sighed and crawled out of the chair, heading into the bathroom. He used the facilities and then washed his face, hoping it would perk him up somewhat. His stomach growled as he was coming back into Kant’s room, reminding him of how many hours it had been since his meager breakfast. Fadel glanced at him and said, “Let’s go get something to eat.”

“I - ” Bison opened his mouth to say he wanted to stay with Kant, then changed his mind. He knew that he and Fadel needed to talk, and there was a lot they couldn’t say in front of Babe. He couldn’t ask Babe to leave his brother’s side, and couldn’t ask Fadel to wait for his explanations, so he had no choice. “Call me if he wakes up, okay?”

“Okay, P’Bison,” Babe said.

They went down to the cafeteria, and found a little table outside. It was nice out, too nice, Bison thought, for his mood or for this conversation. He started shoveling food into his mouth as fast as he could, partly because he was hungry and partly so he could get this over with. Fadel sat in silence as he ate, scowling, although Bison felt like the scowl might be in response to his table manners.

“So . . .” he said, when he was done eating, and Fadel gave him a look. Bison sighed. “Okay, look. After Kant told me the cops were bullying him, we talked a little about what the plan was. I told him that I was going to do my last job, we were going to lie low for a while, and then I’d be back with a new identity and a new haircut. He asked if I was sure our boss was going to let us go. He didn’t know anything about her, he didn’t know she had adopted us, he just said . . . the cops had told him they were going to let him go and then hadn’t. I told him it was different for us and not to worry about it. But . . .”

Bison’s voice trailed off, and Fadel said, “But?”

“After we killed Ruerat, I went to give him the phone and I told him about Lilly. About how she had adopted us and trained us. I mean, I didn’t tell him her name or anything, just . . . he wanted to know how I’d become a hitman so I told him about it. And he . . . honestly, he got kind of pissed. He told me she’d had no right to make us do anything for her.”

Fadel’s scowl deepened. “After everything she did for us - ”

“Yeah, he wasn’t impressed by that,” Bison said dryly. “He’s an orphan too, you know, and he adopted Babe when he was only twenty years old. He has a lot of thoughts and opinions on how the system works and he said we didn’t owe Lilly anything because it was her choice to adopt us, just like it was his choice to adopt Babe. I didn’t really agree with him, but . . . he did make a good point that it was kind of fucked up of her to have me start killing people when I was just a kid. And I didn’t want to. I mean . . . you know that, you’ve always known that. You knew I didn’t want to.”

At this, Fadel looked away, and Bison saw a hint of guilt in his expression. He knew that Fadel had always gone along with everything Lilly had ordered, even when Bison had objected. 

“He said Lilly was just exploiting us, using us to make money, after taking advantage of us when we were too young to understand how she was manipulating us,” Bison said. “But I need you to understand he didn’t try to make me go to the cops. He didn’t even mention the cops. He just wanted to be sure we were safe and he was really convinced that Lilly wouldn’t let us go.”

Fadel let out a breath. “Okay. And?”

“I told him we’d be careful and we split up. But when Keen shot at us - ”

“That was Keen? Ugh, of course it was - ”

“I mean, I didn’t know it was Keen at the time, but yeah.” Bison cleared his throat. “You know how he is, as soon as Lilly decided she wanted to take us out, Keen jumped at the opportunity to prove he’s better than us once and for all. And when you were talking about what we would do next, how we would stay under the radar and hide from ‘Ruerat’s guys’ . . . I just sort of let it go. I called Kant to get us a car but you were right, I really just wanted to see him. I was freaked out because he’d been right about Lilly and she was trying to kill us and I was fucking scared. I’ve always been afraid of her, you know.”

“Yeah,” Fadel said.

“And you’ve always protected me from her. So when all this happened, I thought . . . it was my turn to protect you. I had told Kant about how I had almost gotten to quit when you met Nam, but then Nam . . .” Bison saw the way Fadel’s jaw tightened. “I’m sorry, I just don’t want to hide anything else from you.”

“Go ahead,” Fadel said.

“So I told him Nam had ghosted you after finding out you were a hitman. He asked how Nam found out, and I said I didn’t know, and he asked . . . what seemed more likely, that he had somehow figured that out or that Lilly didn’t want to let you leave so she . . . stopped you. He asked if she had been kind to you afterwards. And I remembered . . . that she was. She was so sympathetic and comforting and, and I could look back and I could see how she had manipulated you, because even while she was kind, she said stuff about how you should have expected it, how people like us couldn’t have lives like that, but we would always have each other. It felt like Kant had, had ripped this blindfold off my face, and I kind of flipped my shit. I wanted to kill her. And I knew that it would hurt so much if I told you she had killed Nam, so I figured we would just take care of it. I would protect you and you’d be safe and everything would be fine, somehow.”

Fadel sighed. “You’re an idiot.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“And then?”

“We went to see Keen - ”

“Fuck, did he see me fall on my ass? He saw me, didn’t he - ”

“Oh, yeah, totally.”

“Great.”

Bison smiled slightly, despite everything else. “He’s got a boyfriend now, not that you probably care, and Kant was even more blunt with him than he’d been with me. Basically asked Keen what sort of idiot he was. We strong-armed him into helping us, and he scraped a shitload of data from Lilly’s system and gave it to us on a jump drive. I don’t think he had time to read it, he just downloaded it and gave it to us. Kant and I went through it and that’s when we found out that Lilly had killed our parents.”

Fadel shook his head. “I still don’t want to believe that.”

“I know. But I saw the contract, Fadel. And it sort of makes sense, doesn’t it? How could Lilly have trained us to be hitmen if she hadn’t been one herself?”

Fadel looked away and said nothing.

“Kant suggested we give the evidence to the cops, because otherwise they’d come after us, and we made that deal so the cops would clear our records. But then we called Lilly and arranged to meet her. I told her that you were hurt and we needed help. I thought she believed me, but - long story short, Kant got shot by whoever she hired as her backup, and then I shot and killed that guy. I thought Lilly was down but she’d been wearing a vest. She told me she’d kill the paramedics when they arrived so they wouldn’t be able to take Kant to the hospital and tried to force me to call you to bring you in. Kant managed to get his gun out and shoot her, not fatally but enough to knock her down, and then . . .” Bison’s throat felt tight and sore. “I finished it. Just like she taught me.”

Fadel still said nothing.

“I’m sorry,” Bison said. “I’m sorry, Fadel.”

“You don’t have to be sorry,” Fadel said. “You got revenge for our parents. That’s not something to be sorry about.”

Bison wiped tears off his cheeks. “I’m sorry for hiding things from you. For trying to handle everything on my own.”

“You don’t have to be sorry for that, either,” Fadel said. “You were trying to protect me. I get that.”

“Then why are you just sitting there, not saying anything?” Bison’s chest ached. 

“What do you want me to say, Bison? The woman I thought of as my mother killed my real parents. She manipulated me into committing murder for her, and worse than that, she manipulated me into pressuring you to commit murder for her.”

“You didn’t - ”

“I did, and you know I fucking did. You know there were times when you didn’t think the target deserved it, when you had questions that Lilly wouldn’t answer, and I told you to shut up and let it go because we owed her for taking us in. I rubbed your back while you were sick afterwards but I still made you go along with it. And even when the fact that she was trying to kill us for quitting was staring me in the face, I refused to look at it, refused to deal with it, so you had to deal with it yourself and now the man you love took a bullet for you and is unconscious in a hospital bed. What the fuck am I supposed to say about any of that?”

Bison chewed on that for a minute. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “But I know what Kant would say.”

Fadel sighed. “What, then?”

“That it isn’t your fault,” Bison said, and Fadel looked away. “That’s what he told me. That it wasn’t my fault. It hurt so much when he said that, I thought I might die. It’s not your fault, Fadel. The way Lilly used you and manipulated you isn’t your fault. The fact that Kant got hurt isn’t your fault.”

Fadel wiped tears off his cheeks. “I don’t know if I believe that.”

“I know,” Bison said. “I couldn’t believe it when Kant said it to me, either. But maybe someday we will. I’m not mad at you. Not for any of the times you pushed me to do what Lilly wanted. I know that it was partly because you felt we owed her, but I know it was also partly because deep down we both knew what she was like. We were kids and we were scared. I’m not mad that you couldn’t deal with what Lilly did to us so I had to deal with it myself.”

“Okay,” Fadel said, and pushed a hand through his hair. “Fuck.”

Bison agreed whole-heartedly with that sentiment. “Something else Kant said . . . is that it would take a long time for me to really deal with all this. That it was okay just to feel how I felt, to be sad sometimes, or angry, or however I felt in the moment.”

“How do you feel in this moment?” Fadel asked.

Bison had to think about it. “I’m scared that Kant won’t wake up,” he said. “I’m angry that Lilly hurt him. But I’m also . . . really relieved. No matter what happens next, Lilly is dead. She can’t control us anymore. I got revenge for my parents and that feels good. The cops aren’t going to come after us. I can finally live the life I want to live . . . I just need Kant to wake up now. How about you? How do you feel?”

Fadel was quiet for a long minute, and Bison thought he might not answer. But then Fadel said, “I can’t stop thinking about Nam. And it hurts so much that it feels like my heart got ripped out of my chest.”

Bison abandoned his chair without thought and moved to the other side of the table, pulling Fadel into an embrace and hugging him tightly. “It’s not your fault, Fadel.”

“He was so sweet and so innocent. If I hadn’t gotten involved with him - ”

“It’s not your fault,” Bison said.

“- then he’d still be alive.”

Bison squeezed him tighter. “It’s not your fault,” he choked out, and Fadel hugged him back, hard. “It’s not your fault.”

They held onto each other for a long time. Finally, Fadel pulled back, wiping his eyes. “Thanks,” he finally said.

“What for?” Bison asked.

Fadel managed a weak smile. “For being my stupid little brother.”

Bison laughed. “Well, thanks for being my bossy big brother.”

“Let’s go back upstairs.”

“Okay. And you should talk to Style about all this,” Bison said, and Fadel gave him a suspicious look. “I mean it! Look, I know you really like him. But I also know that finding this out about Nam is going to make a relationship with Style feel . . . different. I don’t want you to push him away or be a jerk to him because of that.”

“I’m always a jerk to Style. I think he likes it.”

That made Bison laugh. “Okay. But you know what I mean. Just be honest with him. If you’re not ready for a relationship, that makes sense. But if you are, that makes sense, too. You aren’t betraying Nam’s memory by finding someone new. I didn’t know him well, but I think . . . he would want you to be happy. That’s the sort of person he was. You know?”

“Yeah,” Fadel said quietly. “I know.”

They went back upstairs. Bison sat down next to Kant’s bed and took Kant’s hand in his, giving it a comforting squeeze. He looked over the monitors and everything looked normal, as healthy as it could be given the circumstances. He remembered what Kant had said as they had been leaving town, that he would wait as long as it took. However long it took for Kant to wake up, Bison would be there. 

~ ~ ~ ~

Chapter Text

Kant woke slowly, then all at once.

For a while, all he was really aware of was a weight on his chest. Every breath felt like he was climbing uphill after running a marathon. There wasn’t really any pain, just that heaviness, that struggle. Then he noticed that his mouth felt dry. His eyes felt glued shut. His throat was vaguely sore. He could hear voices nearby, but they felt distant, muffled. 

Was this what death was like? Was he in some sort of purgatory for people who had fucked up real bad? That seemed unfair. He had fixed things. He had fixed everything. Hadn’t he?

Did he have to start over again? Was what he had done not enough? Was Bison not going to be able to live freely? The thought caused him some mild panic. It wasn’t that he would object to more time with Bison. He would never say no to that. But what had he done wrong? Was he back in the hotel room again? He had to get up, to start thinking, to start planning - he knew so much more now than he had at the beginning of his second chance, if he needed to do it over again, he could, but - 

He lurched upright and looked around wildly, patting his chest down to look for injuries. Or at least, that was what he intended to do. That was the image he had in mind that he instructed his body to follow. What actually happened was that he let out a pained grunt, and one arm vaguely flopped around, and he managed to get his eyes open and then closed them again as bright fluorescent light stabbed into them.

“P’Kant!” Babe said, and Kant pried his eyes open long enough to see a blurry vision of his brother leaning over him. “Are you awake? How are you feeling? Hey, Khun Dot - ”

“The fuh,” Kant managed to mumble, and then a calm and reassuring voice was telling him not to try to move, he had been badly injured. Was he not dead? He didn’t seem dead. After trying to move, pain had flooded his body. He was pretty sure that the dead didn’t feel pain unless they were in hell, and it seemed unlikely that he was in hell. If he was in hell, then Babe wouldn’t be there, anxiously clutching at his arm while the nurse took his vitals. Why was Babe there and not Bison? Where was Bison? “Bison?”

Nobody answered, possibly because the doctor was now here, wearing a white coat and a comforting smile. “I just want you to answer a few questions for me,” he said, and asked Kant his name and to count backwards from ten and who the prime minister was. 

“Where’s Bison?” Kant asked, instead of naming the prime minister, because he forgot what the doctor had asked in his overriding need to know where Bison was. “Is he okay? Did he - ”

“He’s fine, P’Kant, don’t worry,” Babe said hastily. “He just stepped out to get a little fresh air, okay? He’ll be back soon - I’ll call him - ”

Kant felt a well of relief, which was then followed by a wave of exhaustion. His eyes sagged shut even as the doctor was still talking to him. In the background, he heard Babe say, “P’Bison? P’Kant’s awake, he - he’s talking - yeah, okay, I’ll - ”

“How long’ve I,” Kant muttered, and forgot what he was saying.

Babe understood anyway, and said, “You’ve been unconscious for three days. You really scared me, P’Kant.”

“‘Msorr,” Kant said, or tried to.

Babe squeezed his shoulder and said, with a teary chuckle, “P’Bison’s gonna be so mad, he’s been at your bedside day and night, every minute. We finally convinced him to go home long enough to take a shower and a nap in an actual bed, and of course you wake up as soon as he’s gone - ”

Kant wanted to say something. He did. He felt like he had a lot to say. But everything was so heavy. He was so tired. What if he fell asleep and he didn’t wake up? What if he didn’t get to see Bison again? “Can’t stay ‘wake,” he mumbled. “Am I dying? Wanna see Bison before I die.”

“You’re not dying, Khun Kant,” the nurse said. “It’s normal that you’re very tired. Your body needs a lot of rest so it can heal. Don’t try to fight that.”

“Wanna see Bison,” Kant murmured, but he couldn’t keep his eyes open.

Minutes or hours or days later, he woke to Bison’s amazing, beautiful voice. “Kant - ”

“Shhh, he fell asleep again,” Babe whispered.

“But I - ” Bison began.

“Bison,” Kant slurred out, prying his eyes open again. 

“I’m here, I’ve got you - you scared me, you son of a bitch, you scared me so bad - ” Bison was crying, and Kant could feel the dampness on his cheeks as he leaned over and pressed kisses against every inch of Kant’s face. “I love you so much, you can’t ever leave me, okay?”

“Mm hm.” Kant felt a lovely, warm contentment washing over him as Bison squeezed his hands and kissed his cheeks. His chest still ached, but not badly. He could endure any amount of pain as long as Bison was happy. He was aware that he was about to fall back to sleep, but there was something very important he had to say first. “Mnn . . . hey, Bison. Let’s go to Iceland together.”

Bison choked out a laugh. “Yeah, of course, absolutely - as soon as you’re back on your feet, okay? You just rest for now, don’t worry about - ”

Before he could finish, Kant had already fallen back to sleep.

~ ~ ~ ~

Kant had had no idea that the aftermath of getting shot could be so boring.

Recovery seemed to take forever, and every hour crawled by. He had nothing to do. ‘Just rest,’ everyone told him. And he did rest. He slept a lot. The doctors and nurses came in and out. After the first day, they had a physical therapist come see him. He moved his arms around to make sure his chest didn’t get too stiff, to keep scar tissue from building up. On the second day, they got him out of bed and made him shuffle up and down the hallway. It exhausted him, but he pushed through it. Sometimes there was pain; sometimes there was the haze of drugs instead.

Through it all, Bison was there. Babe came by in the afternoon and stayed for a few hours, but he was still in school, and Bison insisted he go back to the apartment and sleep there at night. Bison slept in the recliner in the hospital room, and no force from Heaven or Earth could budge him. Kant didn’t complain about that because Bison’s presence was such a comfort. He had done it; he had fixed things. Bison would get to live the life he wanted to live, and as a miraculous bonus, Kant would get to live that life with him.

Style came by frequently, sometimes with Fadel, sometimes by himself. They would chat, or watch TV, or sometimes Bison would read to him. But the days seemed to last forever.

A week after he woke up, Kant was finally discharged from the hospital. He would need daily physical therapy for another two weeks, and ‘minimal activity’ otherwise, the doctor said. Kant was basically on bed rest except for the necessary exercise to keep his joints in order and make sure his muscles didn’t atrophy.

It was boring as hell. He watched a lot of TV, and sketched, and cuddled with Bison. No matter how boring it was, he couldn’t complain as long as Bison was by his side. Babe took care of the chores and Fadel came by with home-cooked food every day.

“He’s re-opened the restaurant, so he’s really happy about that,” Bison said. “I think he’s dealing with it the best way he can. You know, he’s always healed by taking care of other people.”

Over the days in the hospital, Bison told him about how things had gone with Chris after Kant had been shot, and then how things had gone with Fadel. He was upset for all the obvious reasons, but Bison was relieved that he was letting Style support him and be with him. Kant was relieved by that as well. He knew that Style genuinely liked Fadel, and Fadel needed someone who could get him through this.

“You don’t need to cook for us every day,” Kant said, after the first week. “I mean, Babe can cook some, and we can order takeout.”

Fadel slapped a Tupperware down onto the counter and said, “You took a bullet meant for my brother. Eat your chicken curry.”

“Ooooookay,” Kant said, and did as instructed.

After a few weeks, he was back on his feet and okayed to return to normal activity, although he still had restrictions on things like lifting and carrying and anything that might elevate his heart rate too much. Bison went to the appointment with him, and listened to the doctor go over everything, then said, “I mean, can you define strenuous activity?”

The doctor frowned and said, “Well, there’s a list of activities that aren’t recommended - ”

Amused, Kant said, “Really what we need to know is if I’m okay to have sex.”

“Ah,” the doctor said, and now he looked vaguely amused as well. “It should be fine. Just no marathons, and if you feel any pain in your chest, don’t keep doing whatever it is you’re doing.”

Once they were back at Kant’s apartment, they kissed a dozen times before Kant said, “I guess we should keep it vanilla for now, if I’m supposed to stop if I’m in pain.”

Bison hesitated, then said, “I don’t know if I still want to do that sort of thing anyway.”

“Oh?” Kant was surprised by this, considering how much Bison had enjoyed it. “Why not?”

Bison shook his head. “How can I hurt you after everything you’ve done for me?”

Kant thought about this. He knew his own relationship with BDSM had been colored by what had happened on the beach, so it made sense that now Bison was having similar feelings. “I like it, though,” he said. “I don’t think you should think of it like you’re hurting me. Yes, there’s pain, but the pain isn’t the point. The pain is just . . . the path we take to the pleasure.”

“I guess,” Bison said, although he still looked somewhat dubious.

Kant took Bison’s hand and pressed a kiss against his palm. “It’s not about the pain. It’s about control. It makes sense, you know. You’ve never had control over your own life. This is an outlet for some of those emotions that you couldn’t release any other way. That’s not a bad thing. And it’s the same for me, only the flip side of the coin. I always had to be in control. I had Babe to look after. I was always taking care of him and even when I was making bad choices, I was making them because they were the best ones I had. I like letting you be in control because it means I can let go of that. I can just let you tell me what to do and feel instead of think. It’s not about you hurting me or about whether or not I deserve the pain. We don’t have to do anything you’re not comfortable with, but I don’t want you to give it up because you think of it like that.”

After a moment, Bison let out a breath and said, “Okay. I mean, all that makes sense. And even though you’re not up to it yet, I can’t deny that I really want to tie you up. I had just ordered actual nipple clamps the day before everything went to hell . . .”

“Oh, no more clothespins?” Kant asked, and laughed. “Yeah, I might not be up to that yet but I can’t wait to try them. Maybe next you should buy me a collar.”

Bison was visibly horny as soon as Kant finished that sentence. “Don’t say things like that if you don’t mean them.”

“What makes you think I don’t mean it?” Kant asked. “I belong to you, body and soul.”

Bison kissed him and said, “Let’s pick one out together.”

“We can do that after I get my hands all over every inch of you,” Kant said, and kissed him back.

Recovery continued slowly. He wasn’t allowed on a plane yet, and that made him sulk a little because he wanted to plan their trip to Iceland. Bison just laughed and said, “Don’t be in such a rush. We’ll go at the end of the summer, when you’re back to normal and the weather will be good there.”

One thing Bison did want to do, though, was go down to his parents’ house on the island. And Kant felt like he was finally ready to go back there.

He had hoped that after everything, the nightmares of Bison’s death would have stopped. He had figured that he was fine now. Then someone in their parking lot set off some fireworks and he had a panic attack so severe that he nearly passed out. Even though he had fixed things, it still put him right back on that beach, sobbing over Bison’s body while the life slowly seeped from his chest.

“It’s weird, isn’t it?” he said, after Bison had calmed him down. “You’d think getting shot myself would have been so terrifying that what happened back then would seem like a distant memory now. But just now. . . it was still the same flashback that I always have when I hear a loud noise.”

Bison shrugged slightly. “The human mind is a weird thing,” he said. “Things just hit differently. I’ve never had any nightmares about the times I’ve been hurt on the job. Only about my parents, and about . . . sometimes, about the people I’ve killed.”

Kant hugged him, and said, “Someday, both of us will stop having those bad dreams.”

So they went back to the island. They drove down, taking the back roads. The weather was nice, although a little hotter than Kant preferred, and he was basically fully healed. He had an appointment with the doctor already scheduled for the next week, and was supposed to get his clearance to fly.

“I don’t really like the ocean,” he said, as he gingerly climbed onto the boat. “Back when my parents died, the plane crashed into the ocean, and I was floating there in a life vest, panicking, for over an hour before the rescue crews got there . . .”

“Well, you stay right by me,” Bison said. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”

Kant smiled and said, “Okay,” and practically sat in Bison’s lap for the duration of the trip.

It was different, because of course it was different. Bison took him into the house and showed him around and introduced him to Maew, the caretaker, who was clearly glad to meet him. It started raining, so they cooked and ate dinner inside. They looked through Bison’s old photo albums and he talked about his childhood and all the things he missed.

They also talked about what would come next. They talked a lot about the trip to Iceland and looked at pictures on the internet and planned out a road trip. But there were other questions about what they would do after they came back. Bison had money, some from the trust fund his parents had left him and some from the work he had done for Lilly, but Kant knew that he would need something to keep him occupied or else he would spiral.

“I don’t know, it’s kind of stupid,” Bison said, when Kant asked what he was thinking about doing. “I sort of thought . . . maybe I would go to med school. I kind of want to go into emergency medicine.”

“That’s not stupid at all!” Kant said.

“It is, though, I mean, I have my high school equivalency but I never went to uni,” Bison said. “I don’t know what going to uni is like or where I would go or how to apply. I don’t even know where to start.”

Kant thought about this and said, “You’d make a good doctor. You’re calm under pressure, and good at keeping other people calm, too. I just helped Babe do all his uni applications, and it’s not as complicated as I bet you think it is. Sure, they’ll want to know why you’re starting late, but that’s easy enough to explain by saying you had family you were taking care of. And if the idea of all that is daunting, maybe start with being an EMT. I think they just need to take a class or two and get some certifications. You might be happy doing that, or you might do that for a couple years and then decide you want to go for med school after all. You’ve got options.”

Bison nodded and looked up at the ceiling. “Do you think if I save enough lives, it’ll make up for the ones I’ve taken?”

“I’m not sure karma works like that,” Kant said, and Bison sighed. “I think you should become a doctor if you want to. You should save lives because we need people to do that. I don’t think you should dwell on it being any sort of atonement. You can’t undo what you did, Bison. All you can do is move forward.”

“I guess that makes sense,” Bison said. “Thanks for talking me through it. Maybe when we get back from Iceland, you can show me the application process.”

“Okay,” Kant said, and kissed him gently on the mouth.

The next day, they finally went out to the beach and to where they had died. Kant felt like he should be able to handle it. He had changed things; he had fixed everything. But when he saw the little table and the pole he had been tied to, he still saw Bison’s body sprawled out in a pool of blood.

“You okay?” Bison asked, seeing the way he tensed up, one hand creeping to his chest. “Is your injury bothering you?”

“No, it’s not that,” Kant said. “I feel fine, physically. It’s just that this place . . . reminds me. Of where my friend died.”

Bison gestured for Kant to come with him, and they sat down in the sand on the beach, looking out over the ocean. “You can talk to me, you know.”

“I know,” Kant said. “But would you forgive me if I just . . . never wanted to talk about that? Would that be okay with you?”

“It wouldn’t upset me,” Bison said, “but I guess I would want to know why. You can tell me anything. I love you. Nothing you’ve done in the past can change that. Besides, it can’t be worse than some of the things that I’ve done.”

Kant pulled his knees up to his chest, looking out at the horizon. “It can be, though. It is. Because you . . . you were young and frightened and an adult manipulated you, forced you to do those terrible things. For me, I was old enough to know better. All my choices were my own. I was selfish and I was cowardly and the result of that was that someone I really cared about died right in front of me. I worked so hard after that to not be that person anymore. To not make those same mistakes. And I don’t want you to hear about it and think that’s me, because it’s not.”

“Kant,” Bison said earnestly, “you literally took a bullet for me. No matter what you’ve done in your past, I’m never going to think you’re selfish or cowardly. Maybe you used to be. I’d believe that. People change, right? I won’t make you talk about it if you don’t want to. If you think it would hurt more to dig it all up, I’ll never say another word about it. But if you want to talk about it, I’ll listen.”

“Thanks,” Kant said. “For trusting me so much.”

“You’ve earned it,” Bison said.

“I guess so,” Kant said, laughing quietly. “I just want to let the past be the past. We have so much future to plan for, to look forward to. I think I’d rather just . . . let all of that go.”

Bison leaned up and pressed a kiss against Kant’s jaw, and when Kant turned towards him, on his mouth. “Okay,” he said, and kissed him again. “I’ll let you do the planning, though. That’s never really been my thing.”

“You don’t say,” Kant said, and Bison laughed. “I think sometimes you don’t need to plan.”

“Don’t let Fadel hear you say that,” Bison said.

“That’s my point,” Kant said, and now he was laughing as well. “I don’t think we need to schedule every day in fifteen minute blocks. I think sometimes you want to try to plan with some detail, like a road trip in Iceland. And I think sometimes it’s better to sit back and say that you can do what feels right in the moment. Like your future career. You can’t know beforehand what will feel right to you.”

“Didn’t Style say you wanted to be a tattoo artist since you were seventeen?” Bison asked.

“He did, and I actually wanted to be a tattoo artist since I was probably about thirteen,” Kant said. “I always thought it was so cool. But look at Babe. He knows he loves literature but he doesn’t know what he wants to do with his life. Maybe he’ll be a writer, maybe he’ll be a teacher, maybe he’ll discover some new passion when he studies abroad. You know that medicine interests you, so follow that and see where you end up. Sometimes you can plan ahead, and sometimes you just have to keep your mind open to possibilities and follow your heart.”

Bison smiled and said, “My heart will be happy as long as I’m with you.”

Kant took Bison’s hand and kissed each of his knuckles. “Mine, too.”

Bison leaned against him, tucking his head into the crook of Kant’s shoulder and letting out a content sigh. Kant put his arm around Bison’s waist and pressed a kiss into his hair, feeling some tension release that he hadn’t realized he had still been holding onto. He had done it right. He had fixed things. Bison would get to live the life he wanted and deserved, and Kant would be by his side every step of the way. He couldn’t imagine anything better.

~fin~