#facilitating a kantbison reconciliation

[ae-azile]

Emergence (Working Title): Fadel/Style, Kant/Bison Fic Preview

Link to first two fics in series:

Part 1: At Least We're Not on this Dark Road Alone (Fadel/Style)

Part 2: Through the Deep Waters (Kant/Bison, side Fadel/Style)

Style met Kant and Babe right after their parents died. Their uncle had been friends with Pa since they were kids. Pa even went on a few dates with Kant’s ma when they were teenagers. Despite Style meeting Kant when he was nine, it honestly surprising they hadn't met sooner in life. But once they did, they hung out all the time. Other than Boonterm, Kant and Babe are the closest thing Style has had to siblings.

But still, he has never been under the assumption that Kant or Babe share the same sentiment. They have both faced a lot of loss, but they have each other. Style understands that he does not compare in the scheme of things. He's a close friend to them, maybe a cousin metaphorically. While the trip down here this morning had been oddly beautiful, meaningful, and peaceful, Style knew he might have to tear every single bit of the trust he built with Fadel down if he found out Bison went through with killing Kant. If Bison killed Kant, Style would never be able to let that go.

Relief washes over him when he sees Kant sleeping on the couch. He looks exhausted, and his eyes look slightly puffy, as if he has been crying. That throws Style off enough. He's only seen Kant cry a few times, and he remembers the circumstances of every time he witnessed.

- Kant cried over missing his parents on his first birthday without them.

- He cried when his uncle died.

- He cried when Ma died. She was very present and kind to Kant and Babe. It probably felt like losing a mother all over again.

- Style didn't see it in person, but Kant called him while Style was visiting his father’s cousins up north. Kant was embarrassed and ashamed over a panic attack he had at Babe’s family swimming event. Style tried his best to be comforting, but he inevitably ended up trying even harder to lighten the mood. Although, that is the good thing about Kant. He is one of the few who seems to appreciate that.

- Kant also cried when Boonterm died. Kant and Babe loved him too. They helped Style with the funeral.

The last four circumstances happened all within the same year, with Boonterm’s death being at the tail end of a horrible one for all of them. Although, Kant didn't realize just how horrible it really was for Style. Kant never liked Gun and would say as much. He was pretty critical over Gun dating a seventeen year old when he was twenty-four. But Style just dismissed it as Kant deciding to be oddly protective. When Kant’s instincts about Gun and whatever less than noble ulterior motives he had ended up being right, Style felt embarrassed and played. That's why he didn't tell Kant about what happened at the party until four years later. They both drank on Style’s twenty-first birthday and it wasn't a planned confession, but drunken, twenty-one Style must have deemed it as the perfect time to finally tell someone what had happened to him besides Boonterm.

Kant had tears in his eyes as Style managed to keep the story to-the-point and nonchalant. He didn't cry, or else that instance would have made the list. Kant did, however, punch a wall, pace the room with anger, and demand that Style tell him where Gun was.

Gun moved to Phuket a month after Style broke up with him. He got a job in maintenance at one of the resorts. He never planned on staying with Style. Occasionally, Style checks where he is in life. When he checked six months ago, Gun had a wife and son and was recently promoted to general manager at one of the nicer resorts in the area. He and Fadel almost passed it. When Style saw a road sign for it, he decided to take Fadel on a detour and show him the overlook instead.

Of course, he didn't tell Fadel the full reason for the detour, just like he never told Kant about Gun’s whereabouts. All he has told either of them is that Gun is no longer a problem. Kant has seemed to let it go, although he did bug him for a while about getting the names of the other people who participated. Kant stopped when Style started shutting down whenever it was brought up, and then just tried to be more present and caring for a while.

So despite Kant likely not seeing him as a brother, Style knows he cares about him. Style would go as far as to say that Kant loves him. He assumes Kant will be happy to see him, considering their circumstances.

“Wake up, sleeping beauty,” Style says, gently tapping Kant’s shoulder. When Kant’s eyes pop open and he turns his head to look at him, Style gives him a smile.

“Hey!” Style says, “Fadel and I thought we would come visit. We’re about to make lunch-”

Style is cut off by a gut wrenching sound, followed by Kant sitting up, throwing his arms around Style’s waist, and sobbing into his shirt.

It's a new bullet point for the list. But unlike the rest of the bullet points, Style is sort of lost when it comes to the reason.

“Did you miss me that much?” Style asks, awkwardly patting Kant’s back, “What’s the matter? You don't cry over me! You cry over death and occasionally when you feel needlessly inadequate. That's it! I keep track.”

But Kant doesn't answer. If anything his cries get worse as his hold around Style tightens.

Okay. Now he's concerned.

“Hey,” Style says, abandoning the awkward patting and becoming more soothing with the physical comfort, “Kant. What's wrong? Are you worried about Babe? If you are, don't be. I called Pa. He picked Babe up, so he's staying over at my house with him. Babe is fine, Pa is fine, even the cat is fine! Babe took him too! Pa sent Fadel a picture of him cuddled up on his lap if you want to see-”

“You were dead!”

Style glances down at Kant incredulously, “Nuh-uh. I never died once. I would remember something like that! You know my memory, Kant. It's impeccable. On the way down here, I was showing Fadel how good it is-”

“Fadel killed you!” Kant sobs, before lifting his head to look up at him. When Style meets his eyes, Kant immediately becomes inconsolable again and presses his face into Style’s stomach.

“Kant,” Style says, trying to get him to sit back up, “Hey. Hey, look at me! I'm fine. Maybe you had a really bad dream-”

Kant shakes his head, keeping himself firmly in place, “B-Bison said Fadel…It's my fault. It's all my fault. I dragged you into this. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. It’s my fault it's my fault it's my-”

“Kant,” Style says again, becoming slightly more forceful as he puts just enough space between them so that he can sit on the couch next to him, “Snap out of it. Don't make me do something stereotypical and cruel, like slap you across the face. Neither of us want that, just like neither of us are dead! I'm so happy you're okay.”

Even though Kant seems the opposite of okay right now.

“We’re both fine. Understand?” Style asks.

Kant shakes his head, “No.”

Well, Style understands. Their boyfriends love them too much to ever kill them. If Kant wasn't still finding a way to produce a fresh round of tears, Style would gush about how he is madly in love with Fadel. He would talk about how much closer they got last night, despite sex not even being a factor. He may also tell him that he feels inspired by the wedding he officiated, and that it made him want to propose. Not just as a joke where he coughs up his own ring. He wants to do it for real. He loves him he loves him he loves him he loves him-

“B-Bison said Fadel killed you,” Kant gets out, snapping Style from his obsessive thoughts, “He said that Fadel made it painless, but that you died. I pulled you into this. It's my fault-”

“How is something that didn't even happen your fault?” Style says, then lightly shoves Kant’s shoulder before gesturing at himself, “Look at me, man. How could Fadel stop this body’s heartbeat? It would be impractical of him. It's too easy on the eyes, and he gets too much enjoyment out of it! Not in his best interest. Style is here to stay.”

Style thinks that will lighten the mood. For a moment, it works. Kant’s face goes lax as he processes what Style is telling him. However, that only lasts for a few seconds before Kant’s expression screws up again.

What happened to him? Kant has never cried over him, and that is something Style knows for a fact due to his list. Maybe some of Kant’s grief for Ma was also for him since he knew Style was going through a loss Kant himself had already experienced pretty intimately himself. And Style does remember Kant getting teary after he finally told him about Gun, but he was never sure if that was because he was that upset over it happening, Style keeping it from him for as long as he did, or because he cracked a bone in his hand when he punched the wall.

This is very different. It's starting to make Style uncomfortable and worried. He isn't worth all this angst. But Kant doesn't seem capable of just moving past it, so Style supposes they’ll need to talk through it.

“Give me a second,” Style says, standing back up, “I'm going to tell Fadel to get started on the food and that I will come in to help once you're calmer-”

“Don't,” Kant chokes out, grabbing onto his arm, “I don't want you around him.”

Style tsks at that, “Don't deprive me of my man!”

“Style, please.”

“He's NOT going to kill me,” Style says, “He thought he had to because of the snitch stuff-”

“You aren't the snitch. I am,” Kant says hoarsely, “Tell him to kill me.”

Style groans at that, “Fadel isn't killing anyone. I promise. He believed me when I explained our situations. He tried to let me go last night, so I had to handcuff myself to the bed. And then we bore our hearts to each other. Not even our bodies, despite how tempting that was! I have never loved someone like I love him and I will never love anyone else ever again.”

“Huh?” Kant asks eloquently.

“I miss him!” Style wails, trying to pull out of Kant’s grasp, “I need to see him! It’s been ten minutes!”

“Style, stop!”

Style drops the act that actually isn't an act at all and turns to face him, “I'll be back. Fadel is expecting me to cook with him. I need to tell him that you need my support.”

With that, Style successfully twists out of Kant’s grasp and jumps out of range before running to the kitchen.

“I had him dig up crabs,” Bison says, gesturing towards the crabs crawling around in the bucket, “Just cook those.”

Fadel stares at them for a moment before shaking his head, “I told you that I'm done killing.”

Bison sputters at that, “They're crabs.”

Fadel doesn't seem to feel the need to explain himself. Good. He shouldn't have to. Style greatly prefers Fadel redirecting his attention and focusing on Style instead. His eyes go soft in a way that is still so foreign to him, even though Style saw hints of that softness during the few mornings they woke up together and at the concert they went to.

…As well as when Fadel was going over the top with the sweetness while he was planning on killing Style.

But now, the sweetness isn't filtered or an alleged act. He's a beautiful, sincere, and sexy teddy bear. Beautiful, sincere, and sexy teddy bears don't belong in prison at all. Style wishes the cop who was forcing Kant to work for him could be here now. He'd drop all the charges immediately because of how cute and sweet Fadel is.

Style knows that won't happen. They’ll need to get crafty to free Fadel and Bison from this mess. Luckily, Style now knows he is willing to do anything. He’ll pack Pa, Babe, and Kant up so they can go on the run. He’ll kill Lilly with his bare hands. He’ll plant evidence on someone innocent of Fadel’s and Bison’s crimes, but still someone who is a total dick and deserves it. He’ll even discredit that stupid, annoying cop by doing the same thing, or maybe seduce him, film the encounter, and blackmail him.

Fadel hated that last idea. He wouldn't talk to him for close to half an hour once Style mentioned that as a possibility. It's not like Style would enjoy it. He would hate sleeping with him, actually, especially knowing how this cop has been using Kant. But Style just focused on the drive, gave him time to cool off, and Fadel was completely over it by the wedding.

Doesn't Fadel realize that Style would only seduce an asshole detective to ensure they can get married one day too?

“What's up?” Fadel asks, bringing Style’s planning to a halt. He puts it to the side for now, walks right behind where Fadel is sitting, and bends over to put his arms around him.

“I love you,” Style mumbles, nuzzling his cheek against Fadel’s.

Fadel leans into the touch before turning his head to kiss Style’s cheek, “I love you.”

“What did you do to my brother?” Bison asks, his voice hard.

Style doesn't compute the question at first. He and Fadel are too busy rubbing their noses together and trying not to give into making out in front of Bison. It's only when Bison slams his fist on the table that Style stands up straight.

“That isn't the question that needs to be asked,” Style says before pointing a finger at him, “I have a better question: What did you do to my best friend?”

Going by the way Bison can't quite meet his eyes, Style knows he isn't going to like the answer.