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Khun hates his teammates.
He refuses to call them friends right now. He especially refuses to call Isu his friend, considering the situation.
Said situation is Bam with his warm hand on Khun's own burning forehead, as he's stuck under blankets with the worst texture on the planet. Those golden eyes look at him like he's the only thing in the world more often than not, but with his mouth furrowed with concern this time. Shinsu dances from his fingertips, little lines of water that brush Khun's skin in all the wrong ways. But if Bam pulls away, he might die. So.
Frustratingly, right now, Khun doesn't have the strength to pull away from it, nor the will.
"You shouldn't be here," he croaks, and he hates it. "I'm fine, it's just a cold."
"Khuns don't get colds," says the other traitor in his life in a snide voice.
"I'll freeze your bloodstream," he threatens. "Tell me if you have a cold then."
Ran scoffs
Ugh, he sounds like a child. A whiny child. Bam's hand slides gently to his cheek, cupping it.
"Stop touching, Bam," he says, narrowing his eyes. "I don't want you to get this."
Imagine the slayer candidate getting downed by the flu or something equally as childish.
Bam meets his gaze with bemusement and a worried smile. "The thorn would burn it out of me, Khun-ssi. Let me finish so you can sleep."
He doesn't want to sleep. He wants to kill the test floor administrator with his bare hands. But lifting his arm feels like the time Rak sat on his head without considering his neck.
"… Thanks Bam," he says after a moment. "I know leaving training is difficult."
Bam's little smile dims a bit as he pulls back. "It'd be more difficult to train knowing you're unwell."
He sounds so reasonable; it's making Khun want to throw something. Through the pounding in his skull, he considers his brain. "I just need to rest."
Bam's eyebrow quirks as if to say are you going to? Which Khun doesn't dignify with a response.
He wouldn't dare. He lets out a sneeze, properly miserable.
It would have happened eventually.
Not this way, obviously.
Khun, incidentally, doesn't remember how he ended up in this situation.
Floor ninety is a snowy floor, with vast unforgiving mountain ranges. The goal is to make it to the mountain lodge and survive there for a month.
There is, of course, limited emergency access for help if need be. Going to a hospital or dying, naturally, fails the test.
They'd sent the coldblooded through as quickly as possible because otherwise they'd have a gatorcicle waiting for them.
Bam had gone ahead alone. He hadn't wanted to, but of the motley group who had taken this test together (himself, Khun, Isu, Hatz, Ran, Novick, Hwaryun and Verdi) he was the best at preparing for emergencies food wise, so him getting to the lodge first was ideal. Also Evankhell had told him to to work on control in the finest ways. Self autonomy. Hilarious but whatever.
The compromise was Bam took Verdi with him (they'd tried to convince Ran, who glared at them all, especially Khun) and kept a communicator on him at all times. They'd speak at night, soothing Khun's heart and nerves and if either group found useful knowledge, they'd share it.
Their climb had been slow in comparison. They were a big group and only a few knew how to mountain climb. It was easier to find tunnels or map paths. Bam noted things when he could but communication was mostly non-verbal. And knowing Bam, he likely avoided those enclosed spaces.
Everything was going fine until the last leg. Khun had spotted their lodge in the distance. (Verdi left an octopus shaped marker on the flagpole and no one else was that eccentric.) Ran at that point too small and thin to be much more use than a battering ram made of styrofoam, was huddled next to him in the lighthouse. Aguero had natural born Khun Eduan cold immunity, even if the firefish was useless. Ran was too thin for that. (Rak would say he was one to talk, but he said that about everything and everyone).
They all were silent the last leg. There was still a snowy hill and a high slightly curved mountainside. Novick had caved on the first leg and put on actual pants.
"Do you think we can make it?" Khun had asked through the observer. His voice is hushed.
Hatz sneezes with his mouth covered. "We don't have the firewood not to."
Hwaryun hums in approval. She and Novick were the ones who had been handling the fires with Hatz's supervision. Khun had relied on the scouts mainly for taking point. Khun family training in these ranges was much more short term and combat focused. He could get himself through this kind of terrain. That didn't mean it was easy by any means.
"The last station is a kilometer west," Isu finally says, sharing a look with Hatz. "We can camp in the observers even longer and risk being too tired to get to the end or we can go now and risk collapsing close enough for Bam and Verdi to get us."
Khun grimaces. It doesn't count as failing the test unless someone dies. "Let's focus on getting as close as we can. I'll stay above and look for a burrow if need be. I'll send Bam a beacon."
He'd messaged them that morning, promising warm food and prepared blankets and anything they might need. Verdi had chirped her octopus was ready too.
Somehow that was scarier.
All of them nod. Hwaryun takes the lead this time, everyone stowing their weapons or anything heavy that could drag them down that wasn't clothes. Khun floats his lighthouses alone, seven in a careful formation. He can't get cold, so it's not too damaging in that sense, but it doesn't make him immune.
Ran shivers next to him. Khun doesn't risk patting his head and tightens his spare blanket over them instead. Ran doesn't even have the energy to glare.
Isu and Hwaryun communicate in hand signs. and Khun follows Hatz's murmured translation into his mouthpiece to adjust.
Everything is quiet, barring the whistling of the wind.
Then Novick looks up and swears. "Speed up."
Khun doesn't dare look up from his calculations, moving the barrier and increasing the shinsu density field. The formation of lighthouses does not and cannot include his own. Not yet.
Then he hears a rumble from the mountainside. "Move!" he shouts, and all of them run. He wants to curse Hwaryun for not saying anything, but then there was no point. He can't push the lighthouses too far, there's too much suspendium and it doesn't like to move without heavy shinsu. He can't calculate around the weight.
The rumbling grows. Khun eyes the terrain. There's a side of rocks. That won't be enough on its own, but-
Hwaryun guides them around it as Ran groans at Khun's side. The avalanche looms. They can't be hit by it directly or they'll all be crushed and likely die. So.
Two lighthouses on one side, one stuffed into the ground, two overhead, one to the right, he needs the one he's on or it won't be enough-
He picks up Ran and throws him bodily out in the snow, right as the snow hits. It sends him tumbling, the lighthouses cracking. Khun braces himself against the bluff, breathing hard and coughing for cold breath. It blows over them, threatening to shatter his barrier with mass alone. And he can carry a lot. The weight is unnerving. Still, Khun holds it with all the strength of will he can.
Isu gathers everyone closer and connects his observers without even pausing. Khun squints his eyes open to watch.
The last thing Khun consciously remembers is something big and red and a searing heat passing over his hair.
This leads to Khun's situation now. He'd woken up again with a horrible fucking headache, all his lighthouses being repaired by Hatz, and his normal insulation fucking useless. He's buried in seven blankets and Ran is sitting on him like his bony legs and weight do enough to hold him down.
It's both humiliating and unnecessary. He's going to be fine. It was just a little snow and chill.
Convincing Bam of that is hard. Bam is a stubborn mule on a good day, and ever since the chess game, over their health even more so.
Also, really, is he going to complain about Bam's hands on him in gentle ways like he's more precious than suspendium? Yes. A little. In his own head. Not out loud. The fire sweet fish remains sleeping in his heart, which is probably wise. He doesn't need to deal with it too.
Bam looks at him, all worried and puppy eyed. "You make it seem like I'm dying," he cracks.
Everyone in the room glares at him bar Hwaryun, who just eats her tangerine with an amused smirk on her face.
"If you like dancing out of my vision, carry on as you are," she offers. Bam shoots her a look but she doesn't react to it. Hwaryun never does. Khun almost wants to ask her how.
Right now though he's too busy sneezing. And coughing. And feeling generally terrible.
"Well," Hatz cracks. "You got a shit cold, so maybe it's a sign you're not an idiot."
The second he gets better, Khun is strangling him and leaving him in the snow.
Rest, warmth and Shinsu heating are his diagnosed treatments, courtesy of Hansung of all people. Bam had shooed him away with a bag of ground coffee and stuck himself to Khun like a limpet as long as he could.
This makes sense, as without Ehwa's fire, Bam had the best use of Shinsu to keep Khun's own flowing while his body fought off an infection he normally would have been able to handle.
This would be great except every time Khun glanced at a lighthouse he'd get a headache and/or Bam's concerned stare like he was going to explode or burst into flames.
He needed to shore up his "tell Bam no" powers when it didn't feel like his hands were going to fall off.
For now, he falls asleep quite against his will and wakes up long enough to drink soup broth and use the bathroom, and the latter is out of pride.
At one point he wakes up with Ran on the bed, leaned on his legs. The only reason Khun can't feel him is the five different blankets on his legs. Even then, he knows.
Ran says nothing, just staring at him with his shoulder leaned against Khun's chest.
He closes his eyes, doing his best to ignore him. Bam isn't there, but the spot by his fingers is still warm. So he hasn't been gone long.
"Viole went to shower." Ran's voice flickers with annoyance. Khun can only assume they've been downgraded on his troublesome scale to something worse. "And make you something to eat."
"I'm not going anywhere." He doesn't bother being patient and understanding with his cousin. "You don't have to keep watch over me."
Ran's glower could be visible from space. He doesn't reply to that. Shinsu pushes feebly at Khun's bones, like it can coil in and push health back to his body.
Khun lets him, consciousness weaving in and out like a needle jabbing through thread. Each jab of Ran's Shinsu shocks his system awake enough to notice but not enough to feel anything happening to his system.
Finally, Ran lets out a grunt of annoyance. "You're interfering," he says.
"You're not a wave controller," Khun counters. "I can't interfere with shit right now."
He can try but the hit from the snow and rock makes it a bad idea.
Ran's scowl deepens as he closes his eyes.
Khun doesn't try to sleep this time. "Just wait for Bam to come back," he says. "I'm fine, Ran. Don't worry yourself sick too now."
Ran opens his eyes to glare. He shifts as if to get up, but doesn't. Khun doesn't mean to laugh, but the hacking coughs that leave his throat are a little too close to it for Ran's comfort. He starts jabbing into the blanket, clearly hoping to hit Khun's shoulder at some point. If he does, Khun thankfully can't feel it. Ran pokes hard.
"If you're guilty, don't be. It was a calculated risk."
"You suck at math," Ran snipes as Khun sneezes, ruining whatever authority he'd shoved into his hoarse, aching throat.
"Fuck off," he counters affectionately. "It's a cold. I'm not dead."
"If you'd moved into a smaller formation it would have hurt but not as bad."
"I'd have still been sick." He had trouble controlling his temperature, which made it infinitely harder to convince his body to fight off viruses. Luckily this sweet fish liked a living host.
Ran makes a face. "Troublesome."
What's troublesome is the Khun family not bothering to teach basic biology but whatever.
"Just lay here and leave me be." Khun orders.
Ran looks at him. Then, like a proper teenager, he gets up and stalks out of the room.
"Puberty," Khun mutters before a sneezing fit takes over his breathing.
He comes out of it to Bam's warm hands on his cold cheeks, concerned gold eyes boring into his face. There are bags under them that he's never seen before. It takes too long for air to easily leave Khun's lungs. Shinsu puffs from his own mouth in hot breaths.
Silently, Bam presses his forehead to Khun's. Khun opens his mouth to scold him, means to yank his hands from the blanket cocoon to push him away, but then warmth floods his entire being. Khun feels Shinsu in a way he knows is right for his body. It tingles all the way up his bones and bloodstream, brushing as if into his shedding cells, like if Khun looked at his skin, it would glow.
Khun doesn't dare open his eyes, because if he did, he'd see something in Bam's face too big for human words. Too beautiful. Something like a gem.
"Bam," he finally croaks. "You're going to get my germs."
Bam laughs at this, a hoarse sound. "Hatz-ssi says idiots don't catch colds, so I'm probably fine."
"You're not an-" Khun reluctantly pulls away to hack up an ungodly combination of saliva and mucus into a towel. Miraculously he can breathe better the second it's gone, but he doesn't dare check if there's blood in it. That's tuberculosis or something and there's no way he got that from a mountain avalanche. If anything it'd be from his raw throat.
That's what Khun tells himself.
"Khun-ssi."
Bam hasn't raised his voice in a long time. Not since the Cage and their argument fucking forever and a day ago. He doesn't raise it now. He moves his hands down Khun's face and to his neck, through the blanket and past his shoulders to give him a proper embrace. Each movement is cautious, letting Khun break free if he really wants to.
The thing is that he doesn't, especially because they're alone, and Bam has to know he doesn't. He wouldn't move so carefully if he didn't know.
Something in Khun is so tempted to give.
"What?" he manages as Bam gives him a gentle squeeze around the middle. The congestion is so present and heavy, it's like chewing shinsu you suck through a straw.
"Please don't go somewhere I can't follow."
Khun chokes and it's not just a coughing fit. Bam thumps his back gently as the rest comes out over the towel on Bam's back and shoulders, so he can't even be upset about it.
"You told me to tell you where I was going, so you could chase me anytime." Every word is heavy, said so easy that long time before, when the high of putting all his trust in Bam was still present in ways he'd wanted to for so long. They hurt to hear, thrown back in his face. "I have, and I will, every time I can reach you, but please… Please let us stay together, instead of that."
It's just a cold, he wants to say. It's just a quick, impulsive gamble. He makes them all the time, in the heat of the moment, to fix his overall strategy. All of them do it. It's only natural he takes care of the aftermath.
Khun sneezes, and he feels Bam's smile through layers of fabric. "You're so smart, Khun-ssi. I don't want to go anywhere without you, none of us do."
He could argue against it. He really could.
But the longer he sits there, the more he droops into Bam's embrace, weighed down in exhaustion.
The word no sits on his tongue and he sighs into Bam's shoulder.
You win, he thinks, and it doesn't build with resentment like he knows it should.
Khun opens his eyes to Hatz.
Bam is curled around his own horizontal body like a stubborn stuffed animal on the other side, but he seems to be out cold.
"One sleeping prince," Hatz acknowledges, before looking down at what he's doing. Through a squint, he sees a cutting board and a knife. A small bowl of vegetables sits chopped on one side, next to the bed. Hatz shifts his hand and Khun blurts out.
"You don't eat meat."
Hatz doesn't even blink. "I don't eat red meat. I can still handle it. And you're low on iron. You're very fatigued."
"My diet is fine, halbok."
Hatz glances up at him. "So you're admitting you're overworking. Never thought I'd see the day from someone like you."
Khun argues mentally with agreeing and admitting Hatz might have a point, or disagreeing and reminding him how much he went out of his way to not be involved in most of their crazy overworking shit.
"You do Bam no favors dead," Hatz continues before he can craft his usual, perfectly phrased argument for this situation. "Or infirm."
Khun bites back the self-deprecating answer, lest Rak pop out of nowhere and try to gnaw his head from his neck.
"That means," Hatz continues in that eerie calm, continuing to cube the meat with the same efficiency he used to sharpen his swords. "That rather than focus on not being in those situations, try recovering from them first instead of rushing ahead."
"I don't want to hear about rushing from a scout." Khun settles back against Bam, who is still a living furnace. "And I'm doing my duty and resting, halbok, so stop fretting."
"I will stop fretting when you haven't earned me eyeing you with it."
"Aw, you do care."
Unfortunately, unlike Ran, Hatz doesn't say fuck you and stomp off. He just sets to work on a little burner and starts making … whatever it is. He has little bottles of spice powder.
Khun sighs. At least he can breathe. "What are you poisoning me with?"
"Curry." Hatz moves with practiced efficiency. "Be grateful. If I make it too often, the others will ask me to cook all of the time."
Khun rolls his eyes. "Torment."
"Truly."
Oblivious fuck.
The meat sizzles, and Bam stirs. "I don't make my family's recipes for just anyone. So, you're welcome."
Family is a word used to bind people by blood, a lie to make people feel obligated to you, a necessity to continue. Those are the memories Khun holds to his chest, never to see again. Hatz takes that word and reshapes it to something guarded in steel, tempered with expectations and a blunt, determinedly forged kindness. "… Thanks."
Hatz raises both eyebrows and opens his mouth to speak, likely something stupid. Then he closes it as Bam opens his eyes. It's a little squint, as opposed to his usual immediate roll over and pay attention moment. His arms tense around Khun for a moment before loosening as the oil pops.
He looks over at Hatz, who is focused on the pan. Then he looks at Khun. "How do you feel?"
The urge to be a proud mess in front of Hatz versus let Bam know the truth argue. So he says. "I can breathe easier. That's about all."
He feels like he was hit by Rak and an airship at the same time but he's not saying that.
Bam hums and leans on him. "I'll go run you a bath."
"Leave two towels for our eyes," Hatz cracks. Khun glares at him. Bam laughs softly and pulls himself away. The warmth fades into the mattress and Khun wraps himself up further into the blanket cocoon. But it's not the same.
It's really not the same.
He drifts off until Hatz jabs him with a spoon. Khun gets a secret bit of glee out of willingly eating the meal, if only for the gobsmacked look on Hatz's face when he does it.
Bam's proud smile makes his chest warm though.
The bath helps.
He doesn't feel quite so bad now. Whatever the herbs are in the bath, it's clearing his sinuses up nicely.
Khun scrubs his hair, sighing heavily. Each movement is exhausting. He hasn't felt this way in a long time.
Not since Bam died.
It was different then. It was purely mental. Emotions impact the health of a body but that was a punishment. Not divine but self inflicted, a way to keep the grief strong.
Am I reaching my limit? He asks himself. Is this as far as I go?
"You think so loudly, boss."
Khun grimaces and hunches into the tub as Novick slides past him to a shower cubicle. There's just a towel over his waist. "Do you mind?"
He normally doesn't care. He's been in the bathroom with Novick dozens of times. And Novick has reacted about as much as a cucumber. But there's something about doing it while he doesn't have the energy to help himself. It's too raw, too flayed open.
"Sunshine is asleep," Novick says as he turns on the spray. "Figured I'd help you when you were done so he could get more rest."
Khun weighs the denial. Unlike Hatz, Ran, or Isu, it will not offend Novick much if he said no. He probably would just shrug and leave it for a bit. Then he'd haul Khun up like a sack of potatoes anyway. He sighs and sinks into the water. "Do whatever you want."
He could be wrong, but he thinks Novick looks surprised. But he is there when Khun begins the slow journey to the edge of the tub to pull himself out. Novick is there, hands outstretched and guiding him to a stool. It's too close, it's just close enough. His supplies are even there.
"Thank you," Khun murmurs, touched to his bones.
Novick actually smiles. "Hurry up boss."
Khun looks at his knees and says very little. It feels crowded in the oversized bathroom. But it's not so bad.
It takes two more days of sleeping in Bam's arms (he can't even say it's for the Shinsu warmth anymore, no one believes him) for the firefish to stir up properly and purge the rest of the cold, flu, fatigue hell he'd been dealing with.
Unfortunately it is in the most disgustingly painful way it could have gone out of him as flus usually go, but at least it's over.
Bam stays by his side, rubbing his back and wiping sweat from Khun's brow, and when no one is looking, leaving little kisses at the cleaner parts of his skin. Khun thinks it's to keep him calm. It's too gentle to be anything else.
But he's weak, and could never resist.
When he's finally stopped shivering and thinks he could, feasibly work on his lighthouse, Hwaryun walks in without knocking.
Khun glowers at her. Bam, who is dozing against his side where the firefish is, raises an eyebrow.
She simply walks over Khun, hands him some papers, and then leaves.
"Don't say she never did anything for you," Bam says, in the tone he uses when he's translating her.
Khun snorts and sets the papers aside delicately. He lets out a long breath and scrubs his eyes. "How'd you do it anyway?"
"Hm?" Bam, comfortably clad in a hoodie that looks like Rak, peers up at him.
"Everyone was supportive." Khun shakes his head. "Nothing was on fire. No one tugged me out of bed. You were with me almost the entire time. They were downright helpful. How did you do it?"
Bam stares at him. Then, inexplicably, he cracks up, giggling into Khun's side until he's gasping. Khun wonders if he's being pranked. He wipes his eyes and then looks up at Khun with earnest eyes. "I didn't do anything. I just let them know I'd look after you and any help they had I'd appreciate. They just care about you, Khun-ssi. As much as I do."
"Do they?" Khun murmurs. "I don't know, you're being a little excessive."
Bam snorts as if to say "you're one to talk." "You'd be the same for me."
"Of course I would. You're important to me."
Bam just looks at him. His eyes are knowing, understanding something Khun knows in his soul but could never let settle.
Khun slowly sinks back into his blanket cocoon, ears pink and heart thumping with the heat of the fish. He mumbles words he can't even distinguish himself.
Bam snuggles back in and doesn't say a word while Khun engages himself in another level of mental gymnastics.
He'll put it as a symptom of recovering from this illness and never talk about it to anyone else.
"Khun-ssi?"
"… Yeah?"
"Everyone cares you about you a lot. You're important to them."
"… Yeah."
"But I love you the most."
"…"
"…"
"Bam."
"Hm?"
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"<3."
"… How did you make that sound with your mouth? And you didn't answer my question!"