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It shouldn’t have happened like that.
Sometimes, Bam thinks that they should have just stopped climbing and hid. Nothing is worth whatever this is.
He remembers how, just over a week ago, their luck finally ran out. He remembers himself passing out, he remembers the way Khun and the others had called for him.
He remembers waking up.
He opened his eyes, temporarily blinded by the light, his ears buzzing with static. His eyelids fluttered as he attempted to adapt, and soon enough, Khun appeared in his vision.
He was pale with exhaustion and worry, his cobalt eyes boring into Bam's as the brunet looked up at him confusedly.
“Khun…?”
And then, he noticed more. Not just the way Khun called for him in concern. He noticed the bars between Khun and him.
He made a move to touch them, and that was when he realized his hands were chained to the wall behind him.
He took another look around, panicked.
“Khun? What’s happening?
They were in a brightly lit room with reinforced walls and a door just as solid. There was a bed on their right, and long chains emerged from it. Khun knelt in front of him, his wrists separately bound in anti-shinsu manacles… which tied back to the bed’s chains, even though he seemed to have enough room to move through the entire place. As for Bam himself, he realized that his bonds were much shorter, far more restrictive- and that he was in a cage.
Khun and Bam were prisoners in a closed room, and Bam was stuck in a cage.
It was pretty obvious what was happening, Bam thought. But Khun still answered grimly.
“We're in a… special jail,” he chose his words carefully. “It’s built so that shinsu's use is restrained. These chains are supposed to restrict it entirely. Same for the cage, but I think it was just a precaution,” he tried a faint smile, “they're just that scared of you.”
Bam swallowed.
“The others?”
“I managed to evacuate them before we got caught. I was just too close to escape,” Khun was quick to tell him, one of his hands gently slipping through the bars to cup Bam's cheek reassuringly.
There was nothing reassuring about it except the warmth. Bam didn’t doubt that even if Khun could have escaped, he wouldn’t have. Not without Bam.
“How do you know… about the room?”
If Bam was lucky, Khun had learned about it in the past and now had a nifty trick to get them out of here.
That thought was extinguished when Khun shook his head regrettably.
“One of the… jailors, came by earlier today, to gloat. And to make it clear why it’s in our interest to do everything they ask for. There's no way I know to get out of this cage,” he admitted in a whisper. “We'll have to trust the others to get us out.”
“...when do you think?” Bam couldn’t help but ask.
He didn’t like being at his enemy’s mercy.
Khun didn’t answer, and Bam's heart fell like lead in his stomach. However, Khun suddenly moved forward, sticking his forehead to the cage's bars right in front of Bam, stiffly grasping at the bars.
“Listen,” he said, ordered, his tone begging for Bam’s undivided attention, like it was a matter of survival. “Whatever they ask you, whatever, information, act, anything. Never give them what they want. Never, alright? Bam.”
There was grave insistence in the words, a quiet desperation that made Bam choke on air, helplessly nod.
“Promise,” the word came out, like iron.
Bam swallowed again nervously.
“I promise,” he murmured with a thin voice.
Khun looked relieved.
They spent the next few hours in heavy silence, their companionship not quite enough to keep the fear at bay. Khun’s presence was a reassuring sight for Bam, more than anything else. It reminded him of the beginning, when all he could do was a nifty shinsu trick, or even before when he had nothing but a needle he didn’t know how to use. Back then, Khun’s hand had guided him, his words had saved him, had fooled their opponents, his knives had defended him, and his genius had guaranteed them victory.
An era where he solely relied on Khun. Bam would never cease to trust Khun with his life.
Although he did feel guilty. In this position, he was forced to let Khun be responsible for their continued survival, or anything their captors could want from them. Bam didn’t like leaving it all to Khun, but there was nothing he could do.
Judging from the grim set of Khun's jaw, this was going to be a long, long waiting game.
And they needed to win it.
Somewhen, Bam didn’t know how much time had passed since he first woke up in this place, the door opened.
He saw Khun's muscles tense, like he was actively refraining from lashing out viciously.
Chances were that whoever had entered was stronger than Khun anyways. It was probably for the best.
Khun retained his countenance even as someone with devastatingly powerful shinsu entered. Was it a high ranker? A great family member? Someone of equal or higher rank as Kallavan? One of Jahad’s retainers in person?
Bam had no idea. And the man didn’t introduce himself either.
“Great,” the man said in lieu of greeting. “You're both awake. We can start, then.”
The man, as Khun had predicted. Started asking questions.
Questions that Khun deflected, while Bam kept his mouth shut.
Sometimes, Bam himself didn’t know if he had the answers to what the man inquired. Bam was the figurehead of FUG, of the rebellion, but he couldn’t pretend to be the one leading it and all its ends and ways. The most likely person that Bam knew who could answer these was Hwa Ryun, and she wasn’t there. Thank god she wasn’t there, for now.
He wouldn't mind seeing her again, opening the door of their glorified cell, smiling confidently at them and freeing them so they could make their escape.
Instead, Khun sat on the floor against the bed, his arms crossed, his face betraying nothing but facade arrogance as he played with words and his opponent. For all Bam knew, Khun could know nothing or hold all the answers.
For a moment, a short, bliss-felt moment, Bam thought they might hold out.
Then, the man said, looking straight into Bam's eyes:
“Slayer candidate. This is my last offer for today. We will get you in contact with your guide. If you follow our instructions, no harm will come to you or your friend. Your conditions will be alleviated if you do as we say.”
Bam opened his lips, considering the man and all the unsaid threat he posed with that last ‘offer’. He gritted his teeth. Breathed in.
Uncertainty. Dilemna. That was what he felt. Not for himself of course, but…
Khun interrupted his thought process with a sharp back of laugh.
“You don’t scare us, almighty ranker,” he taunted before his smirk fell back into a scowl. “If you think either of us will let himself become bait, you probably need to wash your brain with soap.”
Bam held his breath.
The high ranker smirked.
“I see. Well, if that’s how you want to play it then.”
Bam thought he would leave. Finally.
But instead, the high ranker took one step forward, toward Khun, whose eyes narrowed.
“It can’t be helped,” the man sighed, kneeling in front of Khun.
Bam looked up, alarmed, as Khun attempted to stand, put distance between them, but the man caught his arms in a death grip and sank him to his position.
“Khun!”
“What are you-”
The man’s hand went lower, to the hem of Khun’s hand, and Bam jerked in his bonds. What was he going to do to Khun? What did he have planned!
“Khun! No, don’t hurt him!”
“Bam!” Khun called his name sharply, sneaking a frantic glance at him, warning.
Keep quiet, it said, remember your promise.
But even Khun’s features had contorted into horror, like he could tell what would happen as soon as the man murmured quietly in his ear, something Bam could not hear.
“Any last word before we begin?”
Bam twisted his wrists in his cuffs, in vain. He wanted to yell, scream, roar. They had no right to hurt Khun.
But then, Khun – he tried to keep cool but he looked terrified, and it terrified Bam in turn – Khun turned to him slowly. His eyes, blue, frozen with resigned horror, bore once more into Bam’s and he hissed.
“Close your eyes.”
The words stunned Bam.
“What?”
No.
The truth was, Khun could ask Bam to close his eyes in the middle of a battlefield, and Bam would obey, fully trusting his lightbearer.
Close your eyes, Khun could say when they were young, with a pretty smirk, I'll solve everything with a magic trick.
Close your eyes, he'd say, chuckling, when Bam fumbled with his first real night in a real bed. I'll be just next room.
Close your eyes, he could have said, when they finally reunited, trust us. We'll never let you go again.
Close your eyes, he'd say in the battleship, I've got your back. I've got you.
Close your eyes, because Khun would embrace him tightly and oh, Bam never felt safer.
Close your eyes, when he cried himself to sleep. It’ll be okay.
Everything will be okay.
Nothing was okay. Khun looked at him with unbridled desperation just under the surface, his limbs clenching to escape the man’s grip, he couldn’t solve this, he couldn’t do anything, neither of them could and Khun said this again, he said those words, those comforting words that shook Bam to the core because- this couldn’t be real.
“Close your eyes, Bam,” Khun begged.
Bam’s breath hitched, he couldn’t move. Khun lashed out.
“Don’t, Bam! Just close your eyes! Don’t you dare look, you don’t want to see this!”
And Bam choked on his pleas, on his panic and uncertainty, on his horror, and he screwed his eyes shut obediently.
“That’s right,” Khun’s voice quivered slightly in Bam’s self imposed darkness. “And don’t you open them until I tell you too.”
“Mh,” he nodded, not trusting himself to speak.
There was a heavy thumb. Sounds like rustling clothes, tearing clothes. A noise of pain.
And then, sounds. Sounds that Bam didn’t want to have heard, didn’t want to remember. But he remembers them so well. The man made all sorts of noises, and Bam’s horror and terror were tainted with disgust. But nothing from Khun.
Nothing from Khun. Bam had to strain his ears to detect his breathing.
Bam heard everything. The clangs against the bed as the man tortured his friend on the cold ground, the clinking of the chains as Khun’s body was manipulated roughly, the hitches of breath, pain, pleasure, whichever it belonged to, the groan of relief at times, never from Khun, the smell of blood, oh the horrible smell of blood being shed.
What did the man use? His nails? Knives? His fucking teeth?
The smell of salt too. Tears.
Soon enough, Bam found himself crying too.
He couldn’t even imagine it. He couldn’t imagine Khun like this. Not even in his worst nightmares.
Keep your eyes closed, he repeated to himself, like a mantra, in a voice that sounded suspiciously like Khun’s. Keep them closed. You don’t want to see. Khun doesn’t want you to see.
It’ll break you if you see.
It sounded like an eternity later, when Bam heard the man… he shivered in horror and disgust. And then he rose to his feet, his heels clicking against the floor.
“Everything’s under the bed,” he said offhandedly.
Bam heard quiet but heavy footsteps, and then the door. Closing behind him again.
There was silence then, for a long moment. Just the both of them, breathing. And Khun stopping himself from breathing, occasionally.
Bam felt his eyelids flutter, almost open, the need to check on his friend to great. But Khun caught him.
“Keep them closed,” he said, in a rough, tired voice, like he'd been screaming, but Bam knew he hadn’t, Khun hadn’t screamed… for his sake. “Give me a few more minutes.”
Then, slowly, Bam heard more movement. Just Khun, this time. Something being dragged from under the bed. Rustles of fabric. More, quiet, empty sounds. It felt like ten or twenty minutes later when Khun finally spoke again, with his strained tone… like he'd been crying, perhaps.
“You can open your eyes.”
Bam did. Slowly, afraid. The vision that greeted him was simple.
Khun sat, his back against the bed. His clothes were different. New. Cleaner too. Bam wasn’t sure he wanted to know where the old ones were. His arms were bandaged, and some blood still seeped out from under the white fabric of his buttoned up shirt, at places.
Khun looked gray. His eyes were sunken, tired. A bit red. His beautiful blue hair looked like they’d been disheveled and forcefully put back into a semblance of order afterward.
Some strands looked a bit wet, still, gleaming under the artificial light. A bit sticky.
He was bruised, heavily.
Bam blinked to shed the tears. Khun looked at him, exhausted, but sl caring still.
“Promise me,” he said again, and Bam’s heart clenched at the terrifying word already, “Promise me you won’t give to their reclamations. Promise you'll listen.” To me. Listen to me and close your eyes.
“Khun…” he whispered brokenly.
Please, no. Not again, never again.
He didn’t know what Khun saw as he stared into his eyes, maybe the awful, heart wrenching pain that ran under his skin, but Khun’s lips pressed into a thin, restrained line. His lips looked bitten, bloody, Bam noticed. Did Khun do that to himself? To stop himself from screaming?
Or was it that man?
“Promise, Bam,” Khun insisted, his voice breaking, his eyes wet, and there was the desperation again.
The forced vulnerability Bam had never been allowed to see before. The vulnerability he wished Khun would have allowed him to see on his own terms.
The vulnerable desperation Bam found himself unable to say no to. In fear that either of them would break because of it.
“Yes,” he whispered breathlessly, “I promise. Khun…”
“I'm sorry.”
Bam silenced himself.
Khun shouldn’t be apologizing.
It wasn’t his fault.
His eyes burned, all over again.
“I'm so sorry, Bam…”
It hurt.
Bam couldn’t even protect his best friend. Khun apologized, for being used against Bam.
And it hurt.
Bam didn’t think it would hurt so much.
The man came back, the day after. He asked questions, made demands. Bam kept his lips pressed against each other, lest he gave into it. Then he stopped talking, and Khun turned to Bam and asked him again.
“Close your eyes.”
And Bam did.
Bam closed his eyes, again and again, night after day after night. It might have been a week. Maybe more. Maybe a month had passed.
Bam keeps closing his eyes, because otherwise he knows he will break.
When will their friends come? When will they be freed? Bam doesn’t know how long he can bear it. Doesn’t know how long Khun could bear this.
One time, they were alone again, and Bam asked Khun, why they weren’t hurting Bam instead.
“I'm their hostage against you,” Khun answered matter of factly, with the exhaustion that clung to his skin nowadays, the resignation that there was nothing he could do to avoid either of their fate. “They're so afraid of you they put you in this cage, and keeping you here for them is more important than being able to hurt you. So instead, they keep me here with you. They don’t need to make you bleed to hurt you.”
He had looked at him, and said again.
“You just need not to break, Bam.”
And Bam knew what was asked of him.
He knows.
It doesn’t make it any less unbearable, he finds.
Sometimes, the man showed up with knives. Sometimes it was some other torture tool that Bam did not want to imagine even approaching Khun.
Sometimes, Khun couldn’t hold back the screams.
Without fail, Bam kept his eyes closed, and shed helpless tears.
Today, or tonight, they have no way to know, the man comes back, again.
He makes a beeline for Khun. He doesn’t need to speak. Only glances at Bam, inquisitively.
Will you let the cycle repeat?
Or will you bend?
Will you give in?
“Don’t give in.”
And Khun turns to him, his eyes sad and empty, and speaks the cursed words.
“Close your eyes.”
Those accursed words.
Bam wants never to hear them again. And it would still be too soon. He finds that he hates them with passion. Their meaning will be soiled for him forever, no matter what happens after.
He wants to embrace Khun tightly, wishes more than anything to keep him safe and whispers to him reassurances, just like Khun did for him in the past. But he doesn’t know if Khun would bear his contact, any contact, anymore. Not after this.
Even if Bam and Khun get out of here, even if Khun is tucked away safely, even if Bam swears to enact his revenge, Bam knows.
Things will never be the same again.
Still Bam can do this for Khun. He can do this, for as long as he needs to, before freedom can find them one way or another.
And so he closes his eyes. Imagining Khun smiling at him.
He ends up sobbing silently even before his eyelids even shut closed, this time.
There is no worse feeling in the world than this, he thinks. It shouldn’t have happened like this. But there's nothing he can do now, but lay in wait.
And close his eyes.
And so the cycle begins anew.