Aguero always had problems with sleep. When he was little and the house was quiet, he spent most of his night working on plans for his sister or mother. When he got older, more plans came, more problems, more worries and sleep became once more an estranged friend. This night wasn’t any different. Tossing and turning, his mind jumped from topic to topic.

Problem No. 1; Khun Eduan is a bastard surrounded by power-hungry women. In reality, it’s not a problem–for a problem can be solved–but a situation that has never affected him until now. Decades of everyone letting that man do whatever he pleases, years of no one batting an eye at his whims. Aguero wouldn’t lie to himself; the only reason he was suddenly enraged was because he was involved. He had never been a selfless man and he wasn’t going to start becoming one now.

Coming in second; the Agnis branch’s creation. Not a true problem either but rather a thorn in his side, an anchor holding him down to the past. He didn’t care about it anymore. He didn’t. His mother, the one who hadn’t been angry at him when it happened and claimed all would be fine, hadn’t spared him a moment of her time. The last time they had seen each other was during his trial and the last time they talked was even before that. The realization was clear as day, leaving no room for him to justify her yet again; it was never about a mother’s grief but about Aguero doing good–helping not one but two Princesses–all while cutting ties with the Agnis name.

Kiseia, on the other hand, had remained just as he remembered; violent, bitter and familiar. He had been neither happy nor sad to see her. If Maria was there, she’d argue and say he had simply been both. She could be right, of course, but Aguero stubbornly refused to entertain the thought. There was no reason to cling to the past.

“Or the future,” Aguero mumbled to himself. He grabbed the pillow next to him and buried his face inside. Maybe if he held it there long enough, he could suffocate himself and finally get some peace of mind. The final problem after all was perhaps the silliest and most serious of them all. It was the true reason behind the weight in his heart and the horrible headache tormenting him. It was–

“Water.” he sighed and got up. He would much rather have a heart-to-heart with Maschenny about his complicated feelings regarding his mother and cousin than even think about that. He dragged his feet outside the room while rubbing his eyes. They would probably be irritated if he kept on doing it. Red eyes weren’t pretty. Not like gold– “Shut up.”

“I didn’t say anything.” Aguero jumped. Gracefully, “Were you sleepwalking?”

“Ran.” he whispered annoyed, “Why are you on the floor?”

Ran, not bothering to get up from the floor, shrugged. If not for his bright blue hair, Aguero would have thought a racoon had curled up outside his room. He had even taken a small blanket and wrapped it tightly around him. “I can’t sleep.”

“Do you want me to give you some milk or something?”

“I’m not five.”

“You’re right. Big boys sit on the floor to fall asleep.”

“Exactly.”

“Have you always been such a little shit?”

“I got it from my dad.”

Aguero gave him a light smack on the head and slid down next to him. “So. Want to tell me what’s on your mind?”

Ran remains quiet. He had never been particularly talkative, that much Aguero knew, but he seemed even more closed off after Maria’s death. Not that it was surprising. No matter what Ran claimed, he was a child. He was a child who lost his sister just like Aguero had all these years ago. Such a thing could do wonders for one’s mentality and the last thing they needed was for Ran to become like him.

“My room,” Ran whispers after some time, “it’s on the other side of the house.”

It had been like that ever since they had him move in. Before becoming Ran’s room, it was another–according to Maria–unnecessary armoury. A fact that had never bothered his younger brother up until now. Sensing his confusion, Ran continued, “If something happens, I won’t hear a thing.”

“Our rooms are near both entrances. If anyone tries to break in, we’ll wake up long before they try to reach you.”

Ran kept his head down and fidgeted with his blanket, “If something happens,” he tries again, “I won’t know a thing.”

Realisation strikes like a knife; sudden and deep. It’s just one more piece of evidence that proves how lost they are without his sister. She would have never allowed this to happen. Aguero, who prided himself in reading people, had apparently such good skills that he hadn’t realized Ran’s true struggle. It had never just been grief for Maria; it was also the constant fear of losing everything.

“You can’t protect anyone if you break yourself.”

“Pot calling the kettle back.”

“I’m going to let this slide because you’re sleep-deprived,” –Ran huffed– “Here’s what we’re going to do. You’ll go to sleep in my room and I’ll bring the futon from Maria’s room in the hall to sleep here. That way we’ll look after each other.”

“I can sleep on the futon.”

“Yes but,” he paused for a second and looked at him conspiratorially, “if we get attacked, it’ll be better for our best fighter to not be compromised.”

.

Everything is incredibly painful. It’s been too long since he last felt so much pain during his training. For the first time, it’s not Evankhell’s fault–not entirely that is–but his own for not managing to block a single attack. People would probably stop worrying about an upcoming war if they saw him today; worse than he was when he first began training with Jinsung. Speaking of his mentor, Bam had made zero progress in finding clues about his whereabouts and the guy from Woikhalson didn’t return any of his calls which only made his stress worse.

Plus, there is another problem tormenting him, one that can leave him in an even worse shape Evankhell’s training. He thinks–he’s almost sure–that he likes Khun. In a romantic sense. Probably. He isn’t sure, of course, since no one taught him how romantic feelings work, but he does understand that Khun is on a different level. Then again, they are soulmates, despite their past displeasure, and therefore it’s only normal for Bam to feel like that. He only sauntered vaguely in the other’s orbit. If someone is to blame, it’s the Tower’s God.

Evankhell hits him again forcing him on his knees. “What is wrong with you today?”, she asks though it’s clear she doesn’t care for an answer. Bam only grunts and tries to stand on his feet.

“Maybe,” someone says but Bam’s vision is too blurry to see the person speaking, “he lacks the right motive.”

“If I want your opinion, White, I will ask for it.” Evankhell turned to Bam, “Go rest. Pull yourself together. Do something to go back to the way you were or we’re wasting our time here.”

Bam nodded. Evankhell was right. He ought to be more focused, now more than ever. If he failed to meet FUG’s expectations, Jinsung’s and all of his friends’ lives would be jeopardized. He would never want to listen to White’s advice but he was right about him needing a motive. There wasn’t a chance he’d let go of himself again at the cost of the people he loved.

.

After an hour of mental preparation, Aguero is fairly confident in meeting up with Bam again. Not that the meeting, itself, could be a challenge. Now, the person was a different matter entirely. Last night they had crossed one too many lines. Aguero had foolishly let them be crossed. He didn’t even want to imagine how south things could have gone. He couldn’t let himself be blindsided again. Bam might be low in FUG’s ranks but that didn’t mean he was–

“In terrible shape,” Aguero mumbled out loud as he rushed near Bam. He had been standing outside the cafe–a red flag on its own–most likely waiting for him. Hopefully, to explain what had happened to make him like that. His left arm was wrapped loosely with a bandage and there was a deep cut beneath his right eye. Aguero had spent a long time looking at him yesterday so these either happened after he got home or today. Instinctively, and stupidly, he reached out to touch the other’s face. “Did you get in a brawl?”

“No, no, it’s fine.”

“It doesn’t look fine.” As if to prove his point, he brushed his fingers against the wounded skin making Bam wince.

“I was a little careless in training.”

“And you didn’t go to someone to patch you up?”

“I didn’t want to be late. I don’t have another way to contact you.” he admitted before raising his injured arm, “And I did patch my hand!”

It could hardly be called a patching with how loose the bandages were. You would expect that an organisation like FUG would have better medical care. And perhaps offer first-aid seminars. This could easily get infected. The thought made him tense a little. One of the first things his mother had taught him was how to take care of an injury–although her most important piece of advice was to not sustain an injury at all.

Sighing heavily, Aguero grabbed Bam’s non-injured arm and began walking, “We’re going back to mine.”

.

Khun is, apparently, rich. He had theorized it when he saw the ship with which he left but even then the possibility of him being that rich hadn’t crossed his mind. They carefully enter a big estate–that’s thankfully empty–that looks like a proper palace. Bam almost feels bad for walking inside even if they only follow a path through a garden. It’s a very pretty garden. Most likely the reason why Khun got the books. At the end of the trail, there is a small house-like wooden structure.

Once Khun unlocks its door, Bam comes face to face with a ridiculously large bookcase. It looks like a mix of a study and infirmary with three little desks and what looks like an examination bed. At the corner, some boxes look suspiciously like Lighthouses.

“Sit,” Khun tells him while going through the drawers of the desk nearer the bed. Bam does as he’s told though he feels his entire body tensing. Soon after Khun sits next to him facing him. He seems to be thinking about something. “You’re going to need, uh, lose the shirt.”

The shirt. Of course. Bam could do that. He had a nice body, there was nothing to be worried about. He lifted his shirt, careful not to flex his arm. Khun opened his mouth in, well, he wasn’t sure what had gotten that reaction.

“You have a bruised rib,” Khun told him sounding angry. Honestly, Bam had forgotten about this, it must have happened about a week ago. He didn’t manage to share the information though, as Khun went and sat on the other side of the bed so he could face Bam’s back. He felt the other’s fingers on his back tracing various parts of his back. Bam was sure he hadn’t been injured there lately so he couldn’t imagine what had gotten such a reaction out of Khun. “There is a stitch about to be undone,” his voice came out as a whisper, “You have a lot of scars.”

“Oh.” This made sense, of course. FUG had never been patient with its training and Bam hadn’t always been the protege they thought he was today.

“The thing, whatever caused them, has it stopped?” Bam nods, although his current situation seems to invalidate the sentiment. Still, it’s enough for Khun. “I have to disinfect the open wounds so it might sting.”

Bam could easily handle that part of the process. After all, this wasn’t the first time he had to get his wounds treated. However, there was something about Khun being the one watching him that made him feel uneasy. No, this wasn’t the right word. He felt scared.

Trying to focus on something different, his eyes drifted around the room. It didn’t seem like a part of someone’s home but rather a place of business which hopefully meant it wasn’t when Khun was staying. Other than the Lighthouses, it didn’t seem like Khun’s personal space and was instead filled with basic necessities. Even the bookcase had books on various themes some of which he doubted Khun would have been interested in. In the end, he found the, most likely, only personal item of his soulmate; a picture tucked between the mattress and the wall.

Bam felt compelled to grab it. It was a half-burned picture that depicted a familiar girl with long blue hair. The longer he looked at it, the more he wondered what it was originally showing.

“Oh,” he hears Khun’s voice from behind his neck, “you found that.”

“I’m sorry I shouldn’t have–”

“It’s okay. It’s just,” he paused and continued working on the stitches at Bam’s back, “my sister.”

It all comes rushing back to Bam. He remembers the pain, the cries and the agony. He remembers the noose. “I saw her. I think. When I died.”

Khun laughs bitterly. “Of course. It’s only fair.” –Bam turns his head slightly to watch Khun looking at the ground– “Did you just see her or was it,” he stopped to look at Bam, “You saw.”

“She died.”

“She killed herself.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I’m not,” he tried to lie but the pain in his voice was evident, “you must have seen more. This must have been the point, right?”

“I didn’t. It was just some kind of memory of you finding her.”

Khun remains silent for awfully long. “It was my fault.”

This time it was Bam’s turn to stay silent. His dream had indeed shown Khun’s guilt but, at the end of the day, dreams were not a reality. And feeling responsible over something did not mean you actually were. He thinks of Rachel, of how guilty he had felt when she gave up on him, of how he thought it was his fault for not being good enough. “When people go,” he begins, “it doesn’t necessarily mean you did something wrong. It just means they’re missing something.”

“I appreciate you trying to comfort me but–”

“I’m stating facts,” he cut him off, “I saw you with your brother. With that kid yesterday. With me. How can I possibly believe that you’re responsible for your sister’s death?”

“Seeing some instances of me being good doesn’t prove anything.”

“You have a picture of her. It probably used to have you as well but you burned it out of guilt,” he turns his body so Khun will be forced to see him eye to eye, “You dragged me, the enemy, to your house to patch me up.”

“I also murdered you.”

“I got better!”

“By chance!” Khun tried to shout but ended up laughing instead. Bam loved to hear him like that.

“You should stop villainizing yourself,” he whispered and reached to touch his hand, “I’m not saying you’re some angel that can’t do no wrong but, you shouldn’t feel guilty for living.”

“How can I not when everything that’s supposed to live dies instead of me? No matter how much I plan–”

This is a very dangerous territory. Yet it doesn’t stop Bam from acting yet again without thinking. “Then don’t plan,” he says, “act to keep what you love.”

A brief second passes in silence ready to prepare them for the upcoming storm. Khun leans in similar to how he fights; quick and lethal with his hand on Bam’s face. Only this time, instead of a blade to his throat, it’s the other’s lips on him, equally dangerous but far more addicting. Bam also kisses as he fights; furiously and violently, returning his opponent’s strike tenfold. Neither of them is on a battlefield and yet the kiss feels like war.

Bam feels like he’s not kissing but devouring him, constantly closing the gap between them even when Khun pulls away for air. There is a sharp pain in his ribs that he willingly ignores in order to climb the bed. Khun, on the other hand, is equally blissful, one hand on Bam’s cheek and the other tugging at his hair. He briefly pulls away from Bam to breathe all while using the hand that was previously on his hair to keep him at a distance. He looks like he wants to say something but can’t find the words. Instead, he dives in for a kiss yet again and Bam, overexcited as he got, accidentally hit his head on the wall.

“Shit! Are you–”

“I’m fine,” Aguero laughed as he cupped Bam’s face, “everything is fine.”

Everything is absolutely not fine because–

“AA!” someone calls from outside making both Bam and Khun freeze. They quickly got up, Khun looking at various points of the room for a hideout and Bam, well, doing circles. Eventually, Khun pointed at one of the desks and sent him to hide.

“Just a second!” he shouted back while helping Bam fit underneath the desk. Then he ran towards the door to unlock it.

“I thought you were out,” a female voice, Bam had heard a lot of times lately, said. Suddenly, it all began clicking together. This wasn’t any normal house; this was the Silver Palace. “At least, Ran told me you were.”

“I finished early.” Khun explained, “Do you need me for anything?”

“That guy, Hachuling, has been searching for you.” Princess Khun Maschenny Jahad, Khun’s superior and most likely close family member, said, “He couldn’t find you so he had to bother me and–what’s this?”

“Huh?”

“The first-aid kit.”

“Oh. A wound of mine re-opened.” Khun lied, “Did Hachuling tell you what he wanted?”

“He has some news. I’m meeting him this afternoon.” Bam could hear her heels approaching the desk, “I would have sent you but I’d much rather you rest if you’re injured.”

“I can handle it. You don’t have to worry about me.”

“Don’t misunderstand; my intentions aren’t noble. I would much rather you stay with Ran instead of me.”

Yes, certainly a close family member like Ran. And if he was that close with Maschenny and living in the Silver Palace, it could only mean that he was close to Maria as well. He remembered the fight Khun and Kiseia had, the generalization of people he loves dying, everything became clear as day; he was the main suspect in his soulmate’s sister’s murder.