Additional Tags: Tied to a bed (non-erotically), pain, cursing, Viole is still his own warning

Part Two

Khun awoke latched to a bed on his back.

Which had never been something he was interested in, and he wasn't about to start now, especially since the sheets were soft, the bed was foreign, and there was no light streaming in from anywhere. The only light came from the soft lamps in the four corners of the room. He tugged at his hands and an electric shock raced down his skin. He hissed sharply through his teeth. The chains themselves were flimsy, he could probably give them one good yank and they'd fall apart but whatever they were made with would punish him if he tried.

Khun took a deep breath and slumped his head back against the pillow. It was also soft. He couldn't believe that he'd gotten himself into this situation. The thought of Bam's killer, roaming around free, letting himself wear something that he had given to Bam instead of the black headband he'd originally thought of, seeing it with someone else had kindled something in him that he'd thought long dead, long focused on Rachel and Rachel alone and his brain, his sharpest tool, the best of his arsenal, had failed him for the illogical desire to cut the murderer down. It was his own stupid fault and now he was stuck.

There was something in his hand. He unclenched it, slow because everything was stiff. Out fluttered the blue bandanna, landing in a pile beside his fingers.

Khun felt his heart stop beating.

There was nothing special in most of what he carried. Nothing significant that would make it discernable to anyone else on the outside. If no one looked hard enough. But on his bandanna, carefully, he had stitched in a little B. He wouldn't have been able to notice it from the distance, but there it was, clear by the Khun family symbol in silver thread.

Khun didn't cry, he did consider tugging on the chains to get something equal to it. It was better than remembering the way Bam had lit up like a star at the feel of the fabric on his fingers, the way he'd asked if Khun was sure over a dozen times before hugging him with surprising strength. The way he'd smiled so freely at someone like him.

And now he wasn't sure if he'd met Bam's killer or Bam himself. He doubted Bam would tie him to a bed but then it had been seven years. Who knew what kind of weird crap could have happened to him? If he was alive of course.

But the way he'd laughed had been painful.

But why would they keep him alive? What would FUG want with an untrained boy like Bam?

What would Rachel get out of killing Bam?

FUG's goal was to defeat Jahad. Or to kill him. Jahad couldn't be killed by a tower regular, so there was no point in training someone if there was an irregular somewhere in existence. Maybe two was one too many.

He wasn't sure what was worse, that he was kidnapped by Bam's killer, or that he was kidnapped by Bam himself.

The door opened and Khun turned his head towards it. Sure enough, there he was, striding into the room with a blank expression on his face. Whatever had possessed him the day before, the fury and pain and wild laughter and mocking gaze, was gone now. He simply closed the door gently with his foot. Blankets and pillows in hand, he looked over at Khun himself. Then an eyebrow went up. "They really just went and chained you to my bed," he said in the deadest voice Khun had heard come out of a person. And he heard notes of something else, a bit of a discordant softness. "With the chains used on me at that. I can see all the cracks I made in the headboard and everything."

Electrified handcuffs on a precious candidate? Khun opened his mouth to speak and coughed instead. His chest was on fire, now that he was awake enough to recognize it.

"I probably messed up your lungs," said the FUG member, as casually as Khun himself had manipulated so many people to join him into helping him. "Stay still and I'll heal it now." He paused, and Khun quickly tried to school his expression. "Or don't and get electrocuted to the point where you have to." The golden eyes on Khun's face didn't soften. He was speaking to fill the silence for Khun, not because he actually was interested in speaking. "You'll be healed anyway. Then I'll let you out of those. And we'll do… what needs to be done."

Khun simply stared at him. His silver tongue was failing him. His mind was failing him and he needed to get control of both as soon as possible.

The FUG member sighed. "I suppose that's fair." He stepped back and picked up the blanket. He draped it over Khun's body without pomp or circumstance. "Thump on the bed when you need the bathroom." Then he stepped back into the nearest chair, picked up a pillow and the other blanket and curled himself obediently onto it. It was a clear practice he'd done a hundred times before or more.

"Aren't…" Khun coughed and the golden eyes peeked out at him, blank and hollow. "Aren't you even gonna introduce yourself…?"

They blinked, baffled at the concept. "I suppose I should. My name is Jue Viole Grace, and I am a slayer candidate for FUG. Nice to meet you again."

And Viole closed his eyes and went to sleep. Smooth and quick like he hadn't just broken Khun's entire world all over again. And nothing Khun did seemed to wake him, not even minute shifts of the handcuffs or hisses of pain or anything.

And Khun refused to believe that it was Bam. He refused, even with all of the evidence right before his eyes.

His pride and body however, whined in protest and eventually he had to function somehow. His head barely hit the pillow more than twice before Jue Viole Grace was looking into his eyes. "Three hours," he said softly. "The Khuns are a bunch of masochistic people, it seems."

Then there was a key in his hand and Khun's arms were free. Reflexively he dropped them into a swing. Viole didn't even twitch because -

He couldn't move. He couldn't move. He willed himself to move even something but Viole just got up beside him and freed his legs and reset the arm he hadn't even noticed was dislocated. And then air whooshed from his lungs like he'd been holding a breath for hours.

"You need to be careful," said Viole mildly. "People might think you're a defiant pet and they'll punish you worse than I ever will."

Pet? The single word rankled everything in his system, everything that made Khun who he was.

Then soft, gentle fingers brushed his pale chest, thumbing on ivory as if looking for something else. Something heavy. "I'm going to heal you now," Viole warned and then the pain started again, white hot and racing through his flesh and blood and bone, snapping everything together and burning his organs to peak condition.

Pride ensured that Khun didn't scream, thinking hard about his position the whole way. He'd assumed he would be a hostage, a bargaining chip against... well he figured Shibisu and them could become a viable threat eventually. But that didn't seem to be the case at all.

About being a pet.

Disgusting. This couldn't be Bam. But he had to be sure. Bam would do anything to keep his friends alive after all.

"You're stronger than I remember," Viole said softly. He had adjusted Khun to a sitting position and he hadn't even noticed. Then something clicked around Khun's neck, a singular choker with a brilliant blue gem. Automatically, Khun's hand went to it, searching for a clasp and finding none easily with his fingers.

"What- " he said, eyes widening.

Viole stepped back. "Now, no one else can touch you. Well, not easily." His stomach and chest hurt.

Khun swung himself slowly off of the bed. No shock. He stood, testing his weight. Legs worked, no shock. His fists were clenched, daring himself to move and fight or something. But that would be the gator's way. No he had to play along. He'd done so well, so far. He could keep going.

Viole watched him. "I have… a reputation, you see, of guarding what matters to me." A smile almost touched his mouth. "I can be rather vicious. But I'm giving you freedom. I can't give you the same protection as I did say, your bandanna, therefore you need something. If they touch you, they will hurt unless you explicitly accept it. I don't recommend it. No one here is safe."

"Even you," Khun said flatly. Then emotions finally entered those golden eyes, amusement, triumph, resignation, hurt, despair only to smooth back over into clear disinterest.

"I'll leave that to your judgement." Viole looked at him, met his eyes fully. "So the bathroom is over there. I'll be here. Go ahead. You probably need it."

He did, but he wasn't going to be comfortable turning his back on Bam's murderer. He made himself. When he reached the door, he glanced back and… froze.

Viole was tapping the knife, Bam's knife, gently at his skin. He didn't cut or push down. He just tapped it and murmured to himself. His eyes were almost glassily vacant now, as if in between sliding from mask to mask. Sloppy. You didn't need a face between, just another mask.

"I didn't fail," he said to himself. No, to his glowing pocket. There was something in his voice now, desperate. "I'm still here, aren't I? I'm playing the game."

"You'll be better off if you break him," said a cheerful, familiar voice. "You could have at least taken one of the princesses, at least they would be a nice middle finger to make yours."

"Apologies for the inconvenience of the Elders."

Khun eased the door closed to the bathroom. He could still hear them, so it was fine.

"Well, make the most of it," continued the voice. "You'll probably have to kill him anyway, unless you break him properly."

"He'll never be loyal to FUG." A good avoidance of the question.

They laughed. "No, but I suspect he will always be loyal to you, Bam. And isn't that key?" His heart beat a staccato in his ears.

"Hm." The answering grunt was full of disbelief, capturing exactly how Khun felt right now. "I doubt it."

Khun numbly began moving through the bathroom as they continued.

"You have broken worse curses. Now, you understand what you must do, yes?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good. Do not fail. You know what will happen to them."

"I won't, Mister Hansung."

Khun squeaked on the shower and it roared out hot water until he cooled it. He said nothing. It could have been a tundra in the room and he wouldn't notice. Because Bam was holding him hostage. Bam was being held hostage. Bam was alive. He was alive. He was alive. He was here.

Those last three words thundered in his skull, thrummed his skin as its aches washed away.

This had never been Bam's choice. Bam was the slayer candidate for FUG now. FUG had hurt Bam.

The water clinked on the gem as the shower poured over his head.

Neither do I now.

He'd find a way of course. He wouldn't be ruled by anyone, not even Bam. But to get himself and Bam out would be… difficult.

His lips curled into a smirk. It was nothing he couldn't handle.

Outside on a singular table were clothes, lotions, combs and a hair straightener.

Was it supposed to be a peace offering? It was Bam, so maybe some of it was to be familiar. Or maybe it was just to keep him pacified. He wasn't going to ask for sure.

Bam himself was asleep again, rolled with his back to the wall, long hair spilling out over his skin and most of the bed free of its ribbon.

Khun, wrapped solely in a towel, made himself look away, listening to the sound of his breathing.

A sound Khun had never expected to hear again.

Soft and even, unmoving even as Khun himself dressed. The collar wasn't even wet, which… despite the disturbing implications was a neat bit of tech he really wanted.

Khun saw his bandanna by Viole's hand, just in reach. He reached for it without thought and -

Slender fingers immediately wrapped around his wrist and yanked him forward. Khun stumbled but caught himself before his knees slammed into the metal bed frame. Golden eyes bored into his own, wide awake and severe, free hand already at his neck.

Then Viole smiled. It was just like Bam's, all soft and earnest and warm. It was a smile Khun had jealously wanted all to himself. And now it was only focused on him.

Then it vanished, flat and dull. Viole let go. "Sorry," he said simply. "Force of habit." In return he pushed the fabric into Khun's hand and scooted back against the wall to watch him.

Khun checked his wrist. Bruised. He was actually bruised. By Bam.

"Did I hurt you too much?" he asked, the golden eyes on Khun so intent and focused Khun thought he was going to drown in it.

"You surprised me," he said, rather than say, you hurt me a lot for you. "Bam."

Not a single flicker. "I can tell." Viole sat up slowly, staring up at him with dull eyes. Expectant. Waiting. For pain. For the bandanna to be taken. For something to hurt. For a promise of suffering.

"Bam," he repeated softly.

The look that passed over his face was almost uncomfortable.

His stomach was a pool of lead. Then Bam exhaled, as if like a sigh.

"You need to know the rules," he said, rather than acknowledge it, rather than smile again, rather than… anything. "If you don't, I won't be able to help you."

Khun, perhaps for the first time in his life, really wanted to talk about this, wanted to talk about the blank expressions, the broken laughter, the insistence that Viole had killed Bam, had killed himself. That there were deals involved. Something.

He swallowed this. He had questions but they had to wait. "Rules?"

Bam nodded. He still looked unmoved. Then, "Rule one, outside the room, you're mine. If my hands go on you, you let them. If I say to do it, attempt to do it or fake it."

Khun felt more than heard Bam press his own knife into his hand. His fingers made to curl around it, only for it to be snatched away with dexterous hands.

"Rule two," Bam said lowly. "If they try to make you do something, even if I ordered it, kill them if you can. If they tell you to do something, kill them. Run if you can't. There are two people you should hear out other than me. They won't be here. So feel free to make a mess. If they tell you and I say so, I recommend doing it. But generally, do not. Who knows what intel they have on you by now?"

Bam exhaled. "Rule three: feel free to make friends, allies, enemies. Just don't bring them in here. If they want you to, they're after me, not you. Or if they are after you, it's to turn you into a real pet, or something else. Rule four, no matter what you hear don't open the door. No matter what it sounds like they're doing to me, don't open the door. No matter what it sounds like I'm doing, don't open the door."

Sounds like the estate.

Bam sighed and it was so easy to accept that this was him now, in the way he stared off into space like he could see the sky in Khun's face.

"Rule five," Bam said with the knife in hand, putting it into a neat grip he could not have used all those years ago. "I'll cut you if you call me Bam again. And every time after. Even if it's in here. I'll know if you think it. I'll know if you feel it. I'll know if it's in your throat. And I'm not going by it for a reason."

"Then what should I call you?" Khun didn't know why he was smirking. He couldn't understand why the fake feeling of loss was heavy in his stomach.

Viole leaned towards him, pressed the knife against his chest. It did not pierce the skin. "Call me the bastard who murdered your best friend," he said, and a chill went down his spine.

They knew. There had been someone watching.

Viole pulled away from him, empty as a bowl. They stared at each other for a long, long time. Then someone knocked. "Lord Viole, it is time for the operation."

Viole's eyes flickered. "I will be out momentarily, Mr. Reflejo." He glanced at Khun again. "Coming?"

"You make it sound like I have a choice." Khun retorted.

Viole almost smiled. "But you do. More than I do."

He didn't mean it, because the expression didn't reach his eyes. Looking back, none of it had touched his eyes.

He really was a shitty liar.