Archive of Our Own

“We'll be good for each other. Intellectual equals and trustworthy partners.”

And the man across him smiles and Yaba suddenly finds it hard to breath because Banda is beautiful and smart and finally, he found him. Finally, after endless encounters with bitter and boring nobodies, he found the one that was just like him.

Soulmate.

The word dances on his tongue and he gulps it down. Now isn't the time for hopeful wishes, no matter how tempting.

He merely makes a step towards the other, meeting him in the middle. He's closer than he's ever been to the murderer – a rumour he caught as soon as the smaller entered the building – and for the first time, he has a chance to observe him, to see for himself.

Banda is the prettiest man he has ever seen, he decides. He's small and fragile and his eyes look up at him in joy and his smile is so beautiful Yaba wants to taste it.

He's addicted, intoxicated, lost.

“Partners it is, then.”, Banda says and Yaba loves the sound of it. He wants to hear the other say his name, too. He wants to make him scream, moan, whimper. He wants to make him laugh.

He's ripped out of his thoughts when Banda turns away and Yaba wants nothing more than to reach out for him, to have him look right back into his eyes again. He doesn’t even get the chance to complain, however, because Banda speaks up once more.

“Will you tell me my suit, then, partner?”, he asks, looking back over his shoulder with his eyes lidded and the lower half of his face hidden by his shoulder clad in a blue dress shirt that’s too simple for a man of his calibre.

“Yes.”, he breaths. He's entranced by Banda's eyes. There's blue in the middle of greys, there's the clear sky in the eye of the storm. He has never seen a colour like this before.

Banda chuckles and Yaba blinks a few times, realizing that he has a task to do, a truth to tell. He will make sure Banda gets out of this alive. He will do anything in his power to keep this man from getting hurt.

“Heart.”, he says and when Banda searches his eyes for any kind of betrayal, he knows that he'll come up empty-handed. He will not once lie to this man. Never.

“Your turn.”, Banda then says with his lips slightly tugged upwards. “Turn around.”

Yaba does, he turns his back to the man behind him. He's giving himself to him. He knows that Banda is dangerous, has found that the rumours are true through a look into his eyes. Banda has killed. Still, he trusts him. He can't explain how – or for that matter, why – but he knows that Banda is the one he truly wants.

He has looked, has roamed all of Japan in search for someone like him. He has wanted to rule. But what was a kingdom without someone to share it with? What was a life all alone?

He has known that his romantic side could – probably would – kill him. Now, however, with his life in the hands of this murderer, he feels at ease. He is safe because Banda will be his. And he will happily give himself to Banda.

He feels that this is a good place to start. In the end, this world, it will be theirs.

“Club.”

He believes it. He hangs on Banda's lips, on the sound of his voice. He doesn’t need to look him in the eyes but he does because he wants to get lost in this storm once more.

“What will you do once this is over?”, he can’t help but ask.

Banda looks sideways, thinking carefully it seems, before he says “I think that I want to roam this land some more. It fascinates me. I want to learn about it. I want to become a part of it.”

Once again, Yaba is taken aback.

I'll go with you, he wants to say.

I'll protect you, he wants to promise.

I'll make this place yours, he wants to declare.

I'll make it our home, he wants Banda to know.

Instead of answering, he just takes another step forward, Banda now within reach. He can feel the other’s hot breath against his throat and he looks down. Slowly, carefully, he reaches for his hand. He finds his fingers warm as he holds them between his own.

When he finds Banda's face again, the smaller is looking down to their hands, mesmerized. His breath is heavier than before and his lips are slightly parted in wonder.

“We really are the same.”, Yaba lastly says in a quiet whisper.

When Banda looks back up, his pupils are blown and his cheeks slightly red. Yaba didn’t know that he could get any prettier.

And then Banda blinks, the dazed look becoming clear again and Yaba doesn’t know whether he should be disappointed or mesmerized. He settles on something in between and let’s go of the other's hand.

“I'll see you soon.”, Banda says and steps away. He doesn’t turn around. “The Jack, it’s Matsushita.”

-

“Diamond.”, Kotoko says.

She lies. She really does. And for a moment – a split-second – Yaba wonders if she is telling the truth.

Then he remembers a storm, the clear sky in between, and he knowns that she is lying to him. She is betraying him, because Banda isn't.

He tells her the truth nonetheless.

She dies.

Between all of this, all of them – between all the ways he manipulated Kotoko – she was silently killed by another. Yaba would have let her live. He would have thanked her once they'd won and he would have bid her farewell. He would have wished her luck. And deep down, maybe he would have hoped to see her again – alive – once all the games were played.

In the Borderlands, there's no time for mourning the fallen ones.

Kotoko is dead.

She was killed by the Jack of Hearts and Yaba lives, because he was lucky enough to find his other half.

He stays in his small prison cell for a moment longer than necessary. He inhales in a world without Kotoko and thinks, that it's not all too different. So he walks out of the prison cell with his head held high and if his fists clench and his knuckles turn white, nobody needs to know.

He sees Banda then. Banda who is well – who is alive. And that means he trusted him. It means Yaba can make him his own.

He exhales, the tension slowly leaving his body and making his shoulders relax. Banda is alive. It's all that matters.

-

Having the smaller man standing next to him feels natural. It feels like he belongs there.

Yaba hadn't disliked Kotoko. He had seen her for what she was, a means to an end. She had been his victory, his way of beating this game. Nothing more. Nothing less.

Kotoko is dead.

Yaba hadn't lied to her because there hadn’t been a reason to. And he had trusted her. After all, he had needed her in a way a predator needed its prey.

He is a wolf, a hyena, a beast.

The devil, he has been called back then, on the other side of the Borderland.

The real world.

Ever since arriving here, at this new place, in this foreign land, he has started questioning the reality of their old world. In the Borderlands, everything feels real, every touch feels raw. He feels alive.

I don't want to go back.

He has stopped calling the other side home the moment he killed for the first time.

Yamato had been an old man, burdened with sixty years of age and no hope left in his trembling hands. The Two of Hearts may have taken his will to live, but Yaba had taken his life.

The droplets of red, the sprinkles of feeling something for the first time in years, had brought him up to a never ending high. He had never felt so good.

-

In the Borderlands lives don't matter. Here, the weak die and the strong survive. On this side, blood is just blood, a lonely connection to memories of a lost world that isn't theirs anymore.

This place is home.

He has never said it aloud, never mentioned that he wants to stay. He hasn’t when all he had heard of others were broken whispers of the wishes to go back.

And then Banda came his way.

Banda who he had disliked from the very beginning with the way he carried himself all high and mighty. Just like himself.

But then they had talked.

“Maybe we are more alike than you thought.”

And Banda's eyes didn’t contain wishes for change. They were hungry, they were happy. They shone just like his own.

It was the moment Yaba knew. Banda, he wanted to stay with. He wanted to lay his hands on him and mark him and make him his own.

And in the Borderlands, he feels at home.

-

The Jack of Hearts would die without his tongue to say the suit shown on his collar.

They tell him anyways.

“Diamond.”, Yaba smiles, wiping the blood that stains his face. He gets up, watching the man that had turned their canvas with unashamed pride.

He is a beautiful artwork, covered in red and purple and blue, with snot and tears staining his broken, his beaten and crying face. He isn't telling them much, nothing of importance beside being a former player, so they end their own little game rather quickly.

Yaba is watching with childlike fascination as Banda cuts through skin like it is his occupation.

Banda is looking up and Yaba just keeps staring. Neither looks away. Banda merely smiles at him, pure and innocent and there is blood between his teeth and he looks utterly gorgeous.

Yaba has to stop himself from kissing Banda. He averts his eyes, it’s the most he can do, really, and watches their once strong enemy crawl away, making whatever helpless screams can leave his mouth, in disgust.

Matsushita will die in one of the prison cells like any other player. It’s almost boring, Yaba thinks.

“Will you tell me my suit?”, Chishiya, the man that has survived alongside them, asks Banda and Yaba is immediately looking at his partner. He has to try hard not to flinch when Banda moves the other's white hair over his shoulders and stands just a tad bit too close to the stranger.

“Club.”, Banda says – it’s the truth – and moves his hands away from the man's shoulders.

With a neutral expression, Chishiya turns around. “Thanks.” And then, without saying another word, he makes it to one of the cells, vanishing inside.

“Will you tell me my suit too?”

Yaba is instantly imprisoned by Banda's voice and the wish it contains, the white-haired man forgotten. Unable to say a word, he nods slowly.

Then Banda turns around before him. He is close enough that he almost touches Yaba's chest and Yaba can feel the heat radiating off of him. Only now, having him right before him, does he realize how small Banda truly is. He wants to grab his slim waist, wants to claim it for himself and no one else. He wants to have him, have him, have him.

He leans down, and he gives in. He takes a hold of the other's hips and can't help but press his fingers against the skin beneath his blue dress shirt, in hopes of leaving marks for the other to remember. Banda feels so good in his hands and he never wants to let go of him again.

“So?”, Banda asks in a low voice, not moving an inch. And with that, Yaba is back in the here and now, in this prison where Banda isn't his.

“Heart.”, Yaba hoarsely whispers, directly into the other's ear. And then, despite all of his desires, he lets go.

When Banda turns around, Yaba feels his heart miss a beat. His chest is heaving, his pupils are blown. There are still droplets of red smeared on his cheeks and nose and Yaba has to suppress the urge to just lick them off Banda's face.

“My turn.”, he breaths when the other’s gaze becomes too much to bear and he knows he won't be able to resist him for much longer.

The sensation of Banda's hands on his shoulders is like a dream. He feels hazy, like he will wake up any moment now. It feels too good, having his slim fingers digging into his skin. He can only imagine them leaving bruises and scratch marks as Yaba has his way with him, as he loves him deeply and thoroughly. As he ruins him.

“You're too tall.”, he hears the man of his desires mumble, making him chuckle despite himself. He stops, however, when he feels the other’s chest pressing against his back in an effort to lean upwards. There is nothing but heat between them and Yaba has to remind himself to breath. He can't turn around right now, can't press Banda against the nearest surface, push him down and himself into him, no matter how much he wants to. And he wants to. He wants to, wants to, wants –

“Heart.” They are the same again.

And then the sensation is gone, the world too cold. He turns around in an instant, missing the warmth of the other.

“See you soon.”, Banda grins up at him with a glint in his eyes, vanishing behind a metal door before Yaba can take a single step in his direction.

Left alone with his cackling desire, he sighs and strides into am empty prison cell as well.

Five minutes later, a collar explodes and the game is over. They win.

A ghost dressed in white bids them farewell, waving his hand at them and Yaba knows that Chishiya will survive until the very end. Still, he hopes to never see him again. Neither as a friend nor as a foe.

Alone with the one he calls his missing piece, he lastly stands, face to face.

The look Banda gives him is one of trust, one of familiarity and luck. It is too much in its meaning, so Yaba takes a step forward, just for the sake of moving.

“You told me the truth.”, he says.

“You did, too.”, Banda answers, matter-of-factly. His eyes then squint together and Yaba feels utterly exposed. Somehow, this isn't uncomfortable. He wants Banda to see him, to know him, to stay despite it all.

“You don’t care about anyone.”, Banda then begins. “You want to feel alive, no matter what. You want to be a king. You don’t care about the people that suffer because of you.”

Banda is right. He is right with every word, with every syllable and Yaba feels hot under his knowing eyes.

And all of a sudden, Banda asks a question too simple.

“Why did you tell me the truth?”

It is the easiest thing in the world, really. It is simple and raw and in the Borderlands, Yaba can live and die in honesty. So he takes another step forward, now chest to chest with the man he – in his head – started to call his soulmate. With a smile, he thinks that he has lost it.

Their eyes meet, the horizon starts burning in the far distance.

“Because you are mine.”

Banda smiles.

The sun rises over a beautiful land.

“Am I?”, the man in front of him chuckles, disbelief clear in his voice. “I'm a murderer. I'm a monster. You have to know that by now.”

Yaba leans down, feeling the smaller's hot breath against his throat, his chin, his lips. He wants to taste him.

“I know.”, he breaths. “And I've never wanted anyone like I want you. I want to have you.”

Banda doesn't break eye contact. He stares at him in cold calculation, but his breath hitches and that feeds Yaba's desires in all the right ways.

“You want to own me.”, Banda lastly says.

“I want to worship you.”, he admits. He wants to give this man the world. He wants to have him on a throne.

“You want to be a king.”, Banda repeats and it is still true, but so is something else.

“I want us both to be.”, Yaba breaths against the other’s lips, finally breaking eye contact and looking down. He wants to bite into them, he wants to hear him lose composure.

And Banda flinches back, just a millimetre, but he does so nonetheless.

“I don’t quite understand you, Yaba Ouki. How interesting.”, he says in a quiet murmur and when Yaba looks back up into his eyes, he finds his pupils blown, devouring the raging storm in his eyes.

“I don’t understand you either.”, Yaba admits, unable to decide whether to look this puzzle before him in the eyes or chase his lips. “All I know is that we are the same kind of beast. And I want to take care of and protect the monster that you are, Banda Sunato. With everything I have.”

“Have me, then.”, Banda lastly breaths against his lips. It's enough to shatter every resistance Yaba has built up for himself.

He closes the distance between them with hunger and lust and a starving man's desire.

They kiss like a hurricane and they love like a tsunami. They are skeletons that came back to life in this beautiful, foreign land. And Yaba knows that he has finally found his place.

So he hoists Banda up by the thighs, the smaller’s legs encircling his waist. And he kisses him like it's their last day in this place, like it's their last chance to do this together.

He stumbles, blinded by lust and devoured by Banda's hungry gaze, and catches them both with his hand slamming against the wall. He presses Banda against the hard stone and he grinds against him, want filling all of his senses. Banda moans into their kiss and Yaba feels himself losing composure. He wants to take this most beautiful of all men and make him his own and no one can stop him from doing so.

And then Banda takes his face between his slim, fragile fingers – the fingers of a murderer – and he kisses him deeply like he is precious and Yaba can do nothing but groan and press himself harder against his lover, their tongues dancing with one another.

“Fuck, you are perfect.”, he grunts and starts kissing down Banda's neck, leaving purple and blue markings on his way. He will show anyone that Banda belongs to him alone, that no one is allowed to lay a single finger on what is his.

And Banda whimpers, all breathy and blissed out and Yaba drowns in the sound. He kisses the smaller again, sucking in every moan escaping Banda's lips.

Their tongues slide together in a hot embrace, something burning and messy and perfect.

“Ah!” Banda gasps when Yaba grinds against him once more, leaving no space between them. “Can you hurry up already?”, he mutters and how can Yaba deny the man in his arms anything?

“As you wish.”, he hums, changing their position so he has his hands on Banda's ass, carrying him away from the wall. Once he finds a table, he pushes all of its things to the side, sending folders and papers flying to the floor, only to sit his lover down on it. “My king.”, he adds, his tone teasing.

“Idiot.”, huffs Banda, not quite able to hide the smile that is tugging at his lips and the beautiful shade of pink that is spreading on his cheeks, trailing down his chest. He is a sight to behold, Yaba's favourite thing to look at, he decides at that very moment.

He kisses him again, just because he can. Banda tastes like metal and blood and something sweet that is just him. It’s Yaba's favourite flavour. He laughs when he realizes that Banda is, in many ways, his favourite.

Seeing him here, spread out on the hard wood of the table, he chuckles.

“Is this okay?”, he asks between kisses.

“The table? Or you laughing at me?”, Banda raises an eyebrow when he asks it but his voice is shaking and he can't hide that from Yaba.

“The table, the wall, whatever. There's no beds in here.”, he evaluates, nibbling at the other's bottom lip in an apology.

“How come you checked? Did you think I'd let you sleep with me?”, Banda asks, the amusement evident in his voice.

“I had the feeling it'd be of importance later on.”, he says, not resisting the urge to plant a longing kiss onto the other's swollen lips. It’s intoxicating, really.

“You like being right, don’t you?”

At that, Yaba chuckles, taking Banda's face between his bloody hands. “You like analyzing people.”, he grins and he looks the other in the eyes deeply. “Stop. Just for now. Just for me.”

And then there is the thing about erratic heartbeats and animalistic lust.

He surges forward, unable to do anything but that, when Banda nods and when he looks like this. Messy hair, swollen lips, rosy cheeks. His eyes are half-lidded, pupils blown wide, his legs spread wide open, inviting Yaba in.

“You're beautiful.”, he breaths, can't do anything but praise the man in front of him. He needs to tell him how utterly gorgeous he is, how sinfully pretty. How interesting and how strong, too. How smart and clever and charming and –

“You're drifting off.”, Banda mumbles, grabbing him by his tie and pressing their lips together once more. Everything burns, every touch ignites him, lights flame after flame after flame inside his body. Banda sinks his fingers into the base of his hair and Yaba growls, deep and full of lust.

He kisses and licks and bites Banda and his hands fumble with the buttons of a blue shirt that's been in its place for way too long. He needs to get his teeth onto the other, now. He needs to mark him, claim him, have him. Everything feels hot. The white chest beneath him is like snow, like winter in all its hidden sin. Banda is covered in moles and he's beautiful.

“I want to ruin you.”, Yaba admits in between kisses. “Mark you. Make you mine.”

Banda moans, then smiles, then laughs. “Fuck, you are really something else, Yaba Ouki.”

He takes that as an invitation to make his way downwards, kissing and biting at the smaller's collarbone. Slim fingers dig into his hair, hard. He groans, biting into one of Banda's nipples. He circles it with his tongue and kisses it when he hears Banda hiss. The man under him squirms, his feet wrapping around Yaba's waist once more. Grinning, he grinds down, causing both of them to moan in unison.

“Ah, you make me lose composure.”, Yaba breaths, kissing down a path towards the other man's stomach. His fingers fumble with Banda's pants as small hands encircled his wrist.

“Stop.”, Banda says, out of breath, his eyes look dazed with something he couldn’t quite tell. “Undress.”

The word is a command, an order. It sounds sharp and cold and his heart starts racing. His king has spoken and he won't deny him a single wish.

Ripping his too many layers off in a haste, he does not once break eye contact with the man below him. Banda just stares up at him with those deep eyes and those plush lips that can demand anything from him. Yaba will obey.

So he strips down until he is bare in front of his lover – his soulmate. He finally dares naming it.

Banda inhales, presenting his throat in a silent wish. Yaba is on it within the blink of an eye, throwing his teeth down onto the other's pretty white skin, marking him as his own.

As Banda moans beneath him, Yaba once more tries to undo his pants, this time practically ripping them off. He throws the useless clothes aside, unable to look away from the man under him.

Kneeling over Banda feels like reality, like a place to stay. Pushing two fingers between his plush lips feels like heaven. Banda sucks on his fingers greedily. He is a starving man, they both are. And Yaba groans, because this picture, it’s too much.

And just as the Borderlands in itself, everything is raw. Every sensation feels better.

With a spit soaked finger, he enters Banda slowly, carefully, as not to hurt him. When he looks back up, Banda has his eyes closed and his lips slightly parted. Ragged breaths leave his mouth. He is a sight to be hold, intoxicatingly pretty.

Yaba then speeds up, pushing his finger in and out of Banda rhythmically.

Moaning, Banda reaches for Yaba's neck, pushing him towards himself. “Kiss me.”, he demands and so Yaba does. Another gasp leaves Banda as he pushes another digit inside him and a thumb into his mouth.

And then Yaba takes another moment – just a second – to look down on the man beneath him. A string of saliva still connects their lips and Banda's eyes are staring right back at him with a monstrous desire.

“I said. Kiss. Me.”

He does.

He can feel himself smiling into the kiss, can feel the vibrations of Banda's quiet chuckles mixed with his ragged breathing.

And Banda pushes him away. And he smiles as he demands the most beautiful of commands.

“Fuck me.”

“With pleasure.”, he hums, removing his fingers from Banda's stretched hole. He spits into his hand and strokes his hard cock. At last – finally – he lines himself up. Then, he pauses.

“What- Ah, what are you doing?”, Banda asks out of breath.

“Give me your hand.”, Yaba whispers in return, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Please.”

Without saying another word, Banda reaches out with his left hand. Yaba takes it, holds it and then, like he's made out of porcelain, he kisses the back of his hand, their gazes finding one another. And for the first time since all of this, since all of them, Yaba can see Banda lose composure. 

He interlaces their fingers because Banda and him are the same and because Banda is precious, he's beautiful and sweet. And then, he pushes his cock inside, causing the smaller to moan in something between pleasure and pain. His eyes are closed and his lips wide open. He looks sinfully pretty.

“Don't stop.”, Banda groans and Yaba doesn’t. Chasing his own high, he speeds up, fucking into Banda hard and fast. With his free hand, he grips the smaller's waist, tightly, leaving marks for only him to see. He thrusts up and the hand that’s holding onto his own tightens in its grip.

“Ah! Yaba!”, Banda moans when Yaba finally finds his prostate and thrusts against it again and again and again. He speeds up, fucking Banda ruthlessly. The other’s whimpers become louder and louder and then Banda's fingers are in his hair again and he is tugging at them and it all feels so good.

“Banda Sunato, you are mine.”, he growls. “Mine to ruin, mine to claim.”, he continues and Banda can’t seem to stop the beautiful sounds escaping his mouth.

“My heart.”

Hearing that, Banda comes all over their chests, covering them both in white bliss. The sight alone is enough to send Yaba over the hill. Chasing his own pleasure, he fucks Banda through his orgasm, making him whine and whimper beneath him. His thrusts become sloppier, erratic, and he knows that he is getting close.

“Can I-“

“Yes.”, Banda immediately interrupts him, “Come inside. Now.”

It’s enough. With a last hard thrust, he comes as well, filling Banda up.

It is then that he realizes the heat in the room and the sound of their slowly calming breaths and he grins, like a predator, and then he laughs.

And Banda does too, the most wonderful sound to Yaba's ears. And so he leans down, still buried deep inside his lover, and once again seals their lips together. The kisses they share are sloppy. They are all smiles and teeth, and when they break apart, their foreheads find each other and he looks at Banda who finds his gaze and who has the prettiest smile decorating his face.

This man is his home, Yaba thinks. And he will fight every king and conquer every kingdom to keep him alive.

Because, after everything, Banda is his.

-

Banda Sunato likes to sing in the evenings. It is something unexpected, something strange that makes Yaba's skin tingle and his heart race.

“Majiro no ne fuji da no.”

Yaba finds himself falling when they have a fire cackling, painting Banda in the colours of the sunset and illuminating him in a golden hue.

He falls asleep with his head resting in Banda's lap, thin fingers playing with his hair, a melody he had once heard in another world carried away by the wind.

Yaba wants to conquer the world and give it to Banda.

“My king.”, he whispers before drifting off. And with Banda above, he can't await the next morning.

He belongs to this man, this beautiful soul. He will never be another's.

-

Yaba likes to kiss Banda when the dew is still covering the wet grass and the fresh breeze wakes them and he has him lying in his arms.

This man, Yaba realizes with sick glee, is like a drug. He easily became addicted to his greyish blue eyes that always look at him in quiet wonder and he loses himself in every kiss they share. He is an addict, he comes to terms with.

“Banda Sunato.”, he hums just to say something. The name a prayer, his being to be praised and worshipped. “My king. My love. My heart.”

The other merely laughs, like Yaba was a fool to have fallen for him when there was no way around it.

“My Yaba Ouki.”, Banda whispers, barely audible, and Yaba can't breath. He wants to hear that again, over and over and over and over and –

“Say it again.”, he begs.

Banda chuckles, all playful and sweet. “Mine. You hear me? I won’t let you have anyone else.”

Yaba will never need another. So he leans down and seals their lips in a promise to stay. Like this, he wants the world to end. With the most beautiful man in his arms, right where he belongs, and his eyes full of carefreeness and joy.

Yaba will make sure it stays that way. Nothing – no one – will ever make Banda shed a single tear. He will kill whoever tries.

“I'm yours. I belong to you.”, he admits silently, something like a cold truth that vanishes between the wet grass. He had wanted to be a king, had wanted to own the world and anything it contained. Right now, he wants nothing more than to give himself to the missing part of his soul. He doesn't need kingdoms nor does he need power. Not when he has Banda. Not when he is in love.

“And I belong to you.”, Banda mumbles, looking away but smiling nonetheless.

They will be kings, reign together, love together, fall together. Yaba will fight the world for the man in his arms.

-

Blood stains Banda's shirt in all the ways that make Yaba's heart race.

“Come on, it's no fun if you don’t play along. Let me hear your voice.”, Banda hums, his smile animalistic.

“I... I really don’t know anything. I'm just... Argh! Please don’t hurt me!”, the young woman screams in fear when Banda puts a knife through the smooth skin of her throat, not killing her but instead leaving a trail of red behind.

“You know”, he then begins, “I was a murderer, back on the other side. I think it’s time to relive some old memories. What do you say?”

The woman's eyes turn wide, tears running down her cheeks. “Please don’t kill me! I'm begging you!”

Banda merely chuckles – a beautiful tune – and continues with his artwork. He carefully cuts along the woman’s throat, not quite making fatal cuts just yet but enough to have her screaming in pure agony.

“Tell me what you know.”, Banda then demands, his voice ice-cold. Yaba tightens the grip he has on the girl, keeping her from standing up and running away.

He can see the snot mingling with the blood on her cheeks. Beautiful.

“I don’t know anything! I'm just like you!”

“So you played the games too. And you won.”, Yaba concludes, his knuckles turning white with how hard he's gripping the woman's arms. “What happened after you won?”

“I... I don’t... It doesn't –“

“Talk.”, Banda orders once more, the knife digging into the skin of her collarbone, making hear scream from the top of her lungs. Banda laughs, his eyes dazed and Yaba remembers Matsushita, how the monster he fell in love with tortured the Jack of Hearts and how is eyes shone in the same light back then.

“I'll be killed if I tell you!”, the woman suddenly yells, causing Banda's hand to stop for a moment. His breath hitches.

Their gazes find one another and Yaba knows what Banda will do next, his smile turning predatory.

“Well, that’s just too bad then.”, he chuckles sweetly.

“What? No!”, the desperation is evident in the woman's voice, her fear palpable. She tries to struggle against Yaba's hold, but she doesn't stand a chance. “You can't do that! You can't- Ahh!”

The knife is slowly cutting through her throat, blood trickling down, painting the girl red. Sprinkles drop on Banda's face and this time, Yaba doesn't stop himself from pushing the woman aside, leaving her gagging for air, and kissing the blood from his lover's cheeks.

“You look so beautiful.”, he smiles when Banda stares at him with wide eyes.

“I never know what's in your head, Yaba Ouki.”, the smaller mumbles, his gaze averted.

“Mostly just you.”, Yaba grins, kissing Banda, uncaring of the mess to their feet or the blood that was trailing from one pair of lips to the other.

Even if they don't get the answers they want, even if they kill and slaughter and murder, it's good. They have each other, no matter what secrets this world is keeping from them. They still have this.

When they see yet another ship in the sky, Yaba can do nothing but smile.

“Shall we try our luck once more?”, he asks, looking into Banda's eyes that still carry oceans and storms and that shine like the lighthouses guiding forlorn seafarers home.

“Yes.”, Banda breaths, intertwining their fingers. When Yaba searches his eyes in fascination, Banda is already looking up at the sky.

Over them, the azure sea doesn't seem as endless as it did in other worlds, but it feels lighter. It doesn’t carry burdens, just childlike joy.

And in between ocean blue lengths, the ship grins down at them, inviting them to yet another adventure.

The King of Hearts.

 -

It’s a labyrinth. It’s some huge construction building in the making, one dark hall following the next.

He holds Banda's hand a little tighter and steps a little closer to him as they enter the grounds of the King of Hearts.

A worthy ending to it all, he decides.

“I'm surprised there are so many brave ones here.”, Banda mumbles and Yaba takes a look at the people around them.

There is a group of five, most likely bound by the blood they have lost side by side. All of them look petrified, like they don’t know about this place, this world, this life. They look like it's their first game.

“I don’t know about them being brave, my heart.”, Yaba mutters in return.

When Banda puts his hands away from his and hides them in his pockets, he looks at him in a silent question.

“Don’t give them ways to attack.”, Banda says, nodding towards two women further off. A couple, it seems by the way they are clutching onto each other. They are an easy target, showing their vulnerabilities so openly.

So, he hums in agreement and still, he hates not having his hands on Banda. He longs for his warmth. He craves it.

He distracts himself by gazing around. A new player is walking in, all by himself. He looks life he's on the verge of dying, limping and covered in marks.

“What about him?”, he wants to know and Banda hums.

The man has a gun. He seems calm holding it, trained. He is a threat, there's no doubt about that.

“He has the best chances of survival.”, Banda states, coming to the same conclusion as him.

“If he's not dying from his wounds before the game ends, that is.”, he adds. It’s something between a joke and bitter reality. It’s gruesome, but it’s true.

As long as Banda stays unharmed, however, Yaba couldn't care less about the man with the weapon.

After all, Banda is the one who needs to make it through all of this and then, just maybe, get to live in this beautiful world. Maybe they both will. Maybe there's a together awaiting them.

Yaba doesn't want to be hopeful. But how can he not start dreaming when the man beside him is smiling and his eyes are shining and he wants to keep him happy for the rest of his life.

“Why are you smiling?”, he needs to ask.

“Why do you want to know?” Banda looks up at him, his lips still tilted upwards and his eyes glinting with something unnameable.

“Because I want to know how to make you happy like you are now.”

And then Banda chuckles – no, laughs – and Yaba is so far gone, he doesn’t see the difference between the sea and the sky.

Both are eternally beautiful.

“Don't you think they're funny?”, Banda asks, nodding towards a group of three people, two women and a man. They are standing close, mumbling words of affirmation and a better world.

They are friends.

They will fall apart. They will die. Yaba is thrilled to see them betray one another.

“They think they'll make it out together.”, Banda says like it’s the funniest thing, and then Yaba sees it too. He sees it in the way the blonde girl's mouth twitches and in the way the boy is holding just one of them by the arm. He sees it in the way the other woman is biting at her nails and he hears it in their shaking voices.

“Fuck, I want to kiss you so bad.”, Yaba groans and he has to actively stop himself from reaching out and claiming Banda in front of everyone.

“Stupid.”, his soulmate chuckles and then his hand finds his own and their pinkies intertwine behind Yaba's back and he is a man deep in love.

He wants to tell him. He wants to look him in the eyes and say that it’s too late, that he's too far gone.

He wants to-

“Registration is now closed. The game will now commence. Game: PETRIFY.”

The room quiets. It stills, time comes to a stop.

Yaba once learned how to stand his ground. His father had beaten him, had hurt him times and times again until, one day, Yaba was stronger than him. Until he understood. Until he stopped fearing. He wasn't afraid of death. He would face it right on, just like back then.

That was on the other side of the Borderlands.

“Difficulty, King of Hearts.”, the voice from the speakers continued. “Rules: The players compete against the King of Hearts in a game of Petrify. If the King of Hearts catches a player, the player gets stunned. Every player gets one antidote that annuls that petrification. Every time a player uses an antidote, a new feature is added to the game, so use it wisely! Clear condition: At least one player must leave the building alive.”

“Wait... that's it? Where is the King of Hearts right now? What direction should we go?”, a man immediately starts yelling. Fear is written all over his face and one glance at Banda is enough to know that they are thinking the same. He'll die.

“We... Uh, we should stick together, in order someone gets petrified, right?”, the woman next to him says, her voice is barely more than a whisper. She's fidgeting with her hands too.

An affirmative and at the same time unsure mumble goes around the group as they try to come up with a plan.

“Hey! Where are you going?”, one of the two women that are holding onto each other asks as the black-haired guy with the burn marks strides past them, walking straight towards one of the many hallways.

The man just raises a hand and involuntarily, Yaba thinks back to a white-haired ghost that had bid them farewell in a similar manner. “I'm playing the game.”

The sounds of protest go unheard by his ears and at last, it’s the woman's girlfriend that stops her from running after the guy to make him stay.

Another few moments of discussion pass in which the two of them silently listen to the group discussing their strategy before Banda tugs at their interlaced pinkies.  

“We should split up.”, Banda says quietly, for no one but him to hear, and it’s decided, whether he likes it or not. Despite that, Yaba has to ask.

“Why?”

“If the King of Hearts gets one of us, he gets us both. We should stay away from each other to be able to save one another later on. We need to remain in close vicinity to hear each other, though.” It makes sense. Still...

“So you think the King of Hearts will get us?”, he asks, incredulous. Banda is strong and smart and he shouldn't be thinking like that.

“I'm just covering all possibilities.”, the other shrugs. His eyes, however, are full of determination. Good. Because Banda will live, no matter what.

When there’s a hand cupping his cheek, he finds Banda looking up at him. His eyes are squinted softly as he smiles and he looks perfect again, somehow at peace.

“Yaba Ouki, tell me a secret when you see me again.”, he whispers, then he presses a kiss against his lips – like the quiet rain that comes before a storm – and he walks away.

Yaba is left speechless and with too many words filling his mouth, threatening to slip out. He won't say his farewell, not yet. Not when he has the chance to make it out alive, to make Banda make it out alive.

He will find him. He will hold him and kiss him and have him lying beneath him. And if not that, he will keep his heart beating, even if his own stops on the way.

So he walks into a different direction and just like Banda, he's soon devoured by darkness.

•

They had lost each other in a whirlwind of greys and crossings.

One wrong turn.

One wrong turn was all it had taken for them to lose each other. They had talked their strategy through – always take the right. Yaba curses under his breath at the memory.

It all happened too fast. He found himself standing before three hallways, all leading into a black abyss. Then came the voice. A petrified player got saved. New feature added to the game.

Then there was the hissing.

Yaba doesn't know much about animals. He doesn’t differentiate the sounds bears or lions or whatever makes – he knows a predator when he hears one and that is enough. In fact, it was enough for him not to take the right path.

Now here he was, fighting with himself to go back. He doesn’t know whether Banda has taken the right path – the path that led directly to the beast. He couldn't have heard it soon enough, so he must've taken that route.

Cursing under his breath, Yaba turns. He jogs back to the crossing and stands.

He has no weapons, he has no way to defend himself. Still, it's Banda he's looking for. There's no choice but to go.

Slowly, he takes a step towards the pitch black darkness.

A growl.

He feels his own legs shaking, feels the hair on his hands, on his neck standing up. His heart is thrumming in his ears.

“I'm coming, my heart.”, he says just for himself to hear. And then he breaths. In – he takes a step. Out – another step. In – he walks forward slowly. Out - there's no light illuminating the hall.

He walks, the echo of his steps loud and clear in his ears.

Then there are steps on the other side of the wall. He hears them approaching and getting away again. He's pretty sure someone passed just on the other side of the wall. He wants to yell, wants to ask who it is, but remains silent.

For all he knows, it can be the King of Hearts.

So he just keeps going in the hopes of Banda being close.

On the far end, he finally sees a flashing light. It’s small and weak, but it’s there and Yaba strives for something to hold onto.

There’s another crossing and he takes another right. It’s the deal, after all. No matter the beasts, no matter the kings.

•

“Hey, you! Help me!”

He stops dead in his tracks. When he turns towards the voice, he finds a man ever so slowly losing his ability to move. Not far away from him is the stranger covered in burn marks, walking over to him.

“Hello to you too!”, the guy chants, almost sings like a lunatic. Yaba wants this man to stay as far away from Banda as humanly possible. “Do you have an antidote? I already used mine to help one of the girls.”

Yaba raises an eyebrow at the obvious lie. The guy can't really think that-

“Yes! It’s... uh, its in my back pocket... I think! I'm... I'm Tanaka, who are you?”

Without answering, the stranger starts searching the paralyzed player for the antitoxin.

He laughs when he finds it, holding it between his fingers like a gold medal.

“You've got it! Now help m-!”, the player exclaims excitedly, his tone pathetically hopeful, until he's fully paralyzed, unable to say any more words.

When the stranger doesn’t react, the petrified man's eyes dart around hysterically.

“I'm afraid I don't quite understand what you were trying to say.”, the madman mumbles.

“Hmmm...”, the stranger hums in faux thought, “Something about helping you maybe? I don't think that was it.”, he rambles, scratching his chin, cutting himself off with a loud laugh. He lastly walks off with a smirk on his face, unbothered by the man in need behind him.

“The name's Niragi, by the way.”

When Yaba searches for his own antidote and finds it in his pocket, he decides that having an extra one can't be all too bad, just in case Banda will need it.

Maybe, he thinks in that moment, this Niragi guy is going to survive the game after all.

•

It’s about nine minutes later that he finds a group of three paralyzed players. All of them without an antidote. Yaba only hopes that Banda is the one that has stolen it from them.

When he passes them, he can feel their eyes following him.

It remains silent as he walks past them. His heart doesn’t ache for others. It has stopped doing so years ago. The only one on his mind is his other half.

He needs to find Banda.

•

Yaba once learned how to stand his ground. When his father had beaten him into a bruised and bloody mess. That was on the other side of the Borderlands. Not here, where nature was blooming and humans were dying.

He had once learned to stand his ground.

When he sees Banda he's sure his heart misses a beat. He's caught, standing with his hands in his pockets and his feet in mid-walk.

He wants to run. He wants to save Banda. He wants to kiss him, shield him from everything bad but he stops dead in his tracks when he hears footsteps and he knows it's too risky.

He is the only chance Banda has and he has to act smartly, so he ducks down and waits and he listens closely.

“Oh wow, now look at you.”, a man with a deep voice says. He sounds playful and teasing and it makes Yaba want to puke. “What a cute face you have. Maybe I should have some fun with you before this game ends. I wish I could take you with me, doll.”

When he peeks around the corner he sees hands on Banda – hands that aren't his own – hands that have no business touching what is undoubtedly his.

He feels himself getting hot, feels his blood boiling, feels his fingers twitching.

Fingers are tracing Banda's arms all the way up to his collarbones – fingers that are filthy and dirty and unworthy. Fingers that have no business touching Banda.

He decides one thing in that very moment: He will kill the King of Hearts no matter what.

“You are so cute, your skin is so beautiful too. Oh, what do I see here? You already belong to someone?”, the fucking disgusting man hums in maddening playfulness when he sees the marks he left on Banda’s skin.

Mine mine mine minemineminemine-

“How about we have some fun before the game is over?”

Banda is his. His alone. Banda is his just as he is Banda’s.

His.

Yaba had once learned to stand his ground.

“Hey! King!”, he yells. He runs back into the darkness, chooses left, then left again, then right. He hears the King's footsteps, feels them vibrating in his chest. He's coming for him.

He rids himself of his coat, crouching down. Pressed against the wall, he waits. His breath is still too loud and he can't differentiate between his beating heart and the footsteps coming his way.

His grip around his coat tightens, the cloth forming a shield.

The silence is what gets to him.

There's no more steps, no more sound. He is alone with his beating heart and for a moment he thinks, what if he gave up the chase and just returned to Banda?

He sees him a moment too late.

A hand surges forward, a syringe shooting his way. He barely manages to get his coat between himself and the needle.

When it’s stuck there, he ties the cloth around the King’s hands, ripping the syringe out of his grip. It falls, lands, rolls away.

He needs to get it.

He surges forward, only to be held back by the shoulders. Nails dig into his skin. His head hits the floor, or the wall, he can't tell. It hurts, his vision goes blurry.

The King of Hearts walks past him and crouches down.

There's flashes of memories when he sees him coming again. Sprinkles of smiles and kisses and laughter. Moments spent in a beautiful world.

He can’t die like that. He needs to save Banda.

“He's mine.”, he spits and the King of Hearts stops. He tilts his face and Yaba looks at him.

There’s a long scar splitting his face in two pieces and there's golden jewellery dangling from his ears. His teeth shine in gold when he smiles like a madman, not a king. He's a lost creature, not a god, Yaba decides.

The Monster of Hearts.

“Why don't you die with him then?”, his voice is deep and rough and fragile from not using it.

A lonely man will end his life just the way it’s supposed to.

“You know...“, Yaba mutters, “You look a bit like my father.”

Yaba had once learned to stand his ground.

“Huh?”

He kicks at his shin and the King falls to his knees.

He stands, as a knight without a shield. With his bare hands, he grabs his shirt, buttons landing on the concrete, and he hits his face against the wall. He does it again and again and again.

He almost doesn’t see the needle.

The King’s left hand is shaking as he moves the needle to Yaba's waist. He almost doesn’t catch his arm. He manages to take a step back. He grabs his wrist and turns it backwards. He hears a ripping noise, bones breaking beneath skin.

A scream of pain.

The needle hits the ground. He picks it up where it landed a few feet away. It’s his turn to be a King.

But when he turns around, the King of Hearts is gone.

Again, there's no steps. Again, he's left alone with his heart thrumming in his ears. Again, a memory flashes before his eyes.

Yaba once learned to stand his ground. Back, when his father beat him to the ground. When he hit him and punched him and kicked him. When he left him in a puddle of blood and tears and snot.

Yaba had once killed his father.

•

He runs, only one word echoing in his head.

Banda. Banda. Banda. Banda. Banda. Banda.

He just runs.

His steps echo in his own ears and his heart thrums, thrums, thrums. He's out of breath when he sees Banda again, still in the same position as before. The first two buttons of his shirt are undone and he feels his hands twitching again.

He ignores it and keeps running. He only stops when he's right before his soulmate. Out of breath, he can't do anything but smile.

“Found you.”, he grins, looking down.

Banda isn't moving a single millimetre but something in his eyes change. In a way, he looks relieved. Glad, even. At ease.

“A secret, you said.”, Yaba mumbles out of breath, because this is his Banda. And he has him all for himself again. He's his to take care of, his to worship. He's his to protect.

“How about this one? I love you, Banda Sunato.”

He injects the antidote and Banda immediately inhales sharply. And then he's on him, kissing him and Yaba melts into the touch. It’s deep and it’s sweet and it’s full of longing. It’s like and end to a story.

“A petrified player got freed. New feature added.”

Yaba really couldn't care less.

He knows that Banda likes him, but love is a word that isn't easy and it isn't simple. Monsters don't use terms as sweet as this for anything but luring in their prey.

So when he steps away and looks at Banda and sees nothing but care and affection in his eyes, he feels his heart sink and his legs shake.

“You love me?”, Banda asks and his voice sounds almost like a plea. It sounds fragile and scared. Like he would ever lie to him.

“I love you more than anything in this beautiful land.”, he breaths and not once looks away from this beautiful man that is his.

Banda swallows. He intertwines their fingers and looks down at them when he starts speaking.

“I... Yaba Ouki, I still don’t understand you and that frustrates me. You make my heart race like no other and you make my soul feel at peace. I don't understand you, but I know you. I feel like I belong when I'm with you. With you, I can truly be myself. You are loud and strong and courageous, more than I could ever be. You are charming and protective and perfect. And thus, I love you, Yaba Ouki.” He looks up with glassy eyes and then he breaths the two most beautiful of words. “My heart.”

Yaba feels the heat before the tears. He doesn't wipe them away, because Banda loves him and they're witness to that.

Banda loves him.

He tries to understand it. He repeats it in his head once, twice, thrice. He doesn’t know what to do, so he simply takes the other's face in both hands, a touch too tender in this place, and he kisses him like it’s the of to a new chapter.

He looks at Banda when they separate, a string of saliva connecting their lips.

Banda laughs and Yaba wants to dance to the song of his voice.

“Are you crying?”, Banda asks but his own cheeks are tearstained and red. They are the same, Yaba remembers.

Two monsters that had fallen for each other.

Two hearts that had found their home.

•

“Let's go this way.”, Banda says, pointing towards a hall leading to the right.

“Towards the beast?”, he asks when another growl rumbles through the hall. Beside him, Banda chuckles lowly.

“What beast?”, he asks, a playful smile tugging at his lips and Yaba can’t do anything but do the same.

“Oh, so we think alike.”, he muses. “Then it's on neither of us if we're incorrect and die.”

“Going out with you doesn't sound so bad.”, Banda hums and Yaba feels his heart weighing down on him.

“It really doesn't.”, he admits.

“I'll make a vow before we go.”, Banda suddenly starts, standing up unnaturally straight. His posture alone is enough to make Yaba grin. When the smaller grabs both of his hands tightly, he can’t stop himself from chuckling. “Seriousness, please.”, Bands taunts and he coughs.

“Okay, okay. I'm all serious.”

“Good.”, Banda hums. “Because I promise to protect you till my last breath and do everything to make us get out of here hand in hand.”

Banda smiles at him, all playful and he raises an eyebrow when Yaba can’t find the words to answer to that.

“Yaba?”, Banda chuckles and there's really only one thought on Yaba's mind right now.

“Let me marry you, Banda.”

Banda chuckles, his hands finding their way around Yaba's neck. “You already have me. I belong to you.”

Yaba presses their foreheads together and for a second, he closes his eyes. “My king. My love. My heart. I want to give you everything. Everything and more.”

“But I just need you.”, Banda whispers and it’s enough to make his heart race.

“You have me. Banda, I'm all yours. I'm yours.”

•

A monster under the bed. That is what this beast is.

A scary story to tell in the dark.

A bonfire song sang by the youth.

It’s not there, they were right. There's nothing when they walk through the halls the roaring comes from.

They hadn't come across any of the other features yet – and they won't underestimate the realness of them – but they'll keep in mind that no beast is on their heels.

They'll keep in mind that many probably died running from the monster straight into the King's arms.

They’ll keep in mind that some didn’t get saved because the beast is coming, it’s too late.

They have spent enough time in here to know how this game works. It plays with fear. It wants them not to help each other.

“Now look what we have here. The couple is still alive, I'm impressed.”, a voice suddenly says and Yaba takes a step in front of Banda, purely on instinct.

“Niragi.”, he growls and the man smiles, all dry blood between his teeth.

“That's unfair, don’t you think so? I don’t know your name but you know mine.”, the madmen says, taking a step closer.

“Stay away.”, he hisses when he comes a little too close. Warily, Yaba eyes the weapon thrown over his shoulder.

“Or what? Scared I'll hurt your little plaything over there?”, Niragi laughs, it sounds dissonant and wrong in all the ways it makes his head pound.

“It’s Banda.”

Yaba wants to grab his arm and stop him, but the way which with Banda looks at him makes his movements falter and stop. He doesn’t smile. He doesn’t squeeze his hands reassuringly. Because he doesn’t know whether they'll get out of this situation.

Ever since meeting Banda, it’s the first time his lover has come up empty-handed. And Yaba is scared.

“Banda.”, Niragi repeats, and then eyes him from head to toe. “What about your boyfriend?”

Banda doesn’t immediately respond. It takes a moment, then another, until he lastly exhales. “That’s Yaba. He's a bit protective of me, I'm sorry.”

“But I'm afraid...”, he says, then takes a step forward. A knife finds his way between his fingers and he licks the blade. “I'm even more protective of him.”

It’s like they're in the eye of a storm. It’s eerily quiet. It’s too still, until –

Niragi laughs, loud and crazy and then he coughs and spit and blood drips from his mouth. He wipes at his lips and grins.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?”, the maniac laughs. “I'm not here for a fight. I want to make a deal.”

Again, Banda acts before Yaba gets the chance to.

“What do you want?” his voice is cold as ice and cuts through the silence like his knifes cut through skin.

Niragi merely chuckles and Yaba gets the urge to punch some sense into the guy, to make him kneel before Banda like he deserves.

Then there's no smile on Niragi's face, no wild madness.

He reaches out a hand and says “Give me your antidote.”

When Yaba wants to step forward, he's once again stopped by Banda's words.

“What do we get in return?”, he demands.

A bloody smile splits Niragi's face in half. “Well, I won't kill you.”

Yaba will. He's ready to step forward, take this man and rip him into pieces for threatening Banda like that. No one treats his love like that.

He's back in the here and now when he hears someone laughing, beautiful and sweet and that's Banda.

“What was that about no fighting?”, the man chuckles in amusement.

“You decide. It doesn't have to end in blood.”, the madman in front of them hums.

“What if I want it to?”

Banda is a monster to many and a lover to no one but him. He's all teeth and knifes to Niragi, all pretty smiles and playful banter to him.

It’s the look of disbelief in the stranger's eye that makes Yaba's heart beat faster and his lips tug upwards in a proud grin.

Underestimating Banda is deadly.

Steps save Niragi from what was supposed to be his end. The King of Hearts doesn’t come in all his might, but in all of his despair.

“You won't escape a second time!”, he yells in seething rage. He stands, like a foe.

This time, Banda doesn’t stop him from stepping up to him and taking his hand in his own.

“You fucker!”, Niragi yells, catching the King's attention. They look at each other in what seems to be understanding, and then the game begins.

Niragi surges forward, ducking under the King's hand and landing a kick at his shin. The king stumbles. He doesn’t fall. His arm shoots forward again, poison between his fingers. Niragi rolls, dodges, barely.

He doesn’t dodge the kick that follows.

Neither the next.

Then Yaba feels it in his pocket, like it weighs a ton or more. The injection. The poison. The way to turn this game around. The way to end it.

Banda squeezes his hand and all of a sudden he thinks, the risk isn't worth it.

He needs to get out of here with Banda. He doesn’t need to be the hero, doesn’t need to be a king. He just needs to get Banda out of this labyrinth.

“Love, you need to go. I'll be right there, okay? I just need a moment.”, he whispers and Banda looks up at him in disbelief.

“You'll come with me, you hear me!”, he says and this time – this one and only time – he has to deny him a wish.

“Just take rights, okay? We'll see each other at the exit.”

He grits his teeth. “Hey, Niragi!”, he yells and finds both the stranger and the King staring back at him. “I have a better deal for you.”

•

They are going to die by the hands of a cruel king.

It was a foolish plan, really. A childlike idea. Killing the King of Hearts with his own medicine, his own poison.

The man standing above them is a monster.

Neither him nor Niragi had known.

Somewhere in the distance, they hear thunder. They even hear the rain. They have to be close to the exit.

He should have run with Banda.

Now he's here, lying on the cold concrete. His face is beaten to a bloody mess. Niragi looks worse.

They don’t have an antidote anymore. They have used everything they have gathered on each other. Still, they haven’t managed to kill the heartless beast in from of them.

One last time, he pushes a needle through Niragi's skin. They share a glance that says it all: We are done for.

Yaba isn't scared of dying. He has been granted too many things already. He had loved and he had lived the life in this world to the fullest.

“Fuck.”, he hears Niragi mumble under his breath. “I'm not even getting the chance to see that fucker Chishiya again? What a waste.”

What a small world.

“Chishiya. That sounds familiar.”, he chuckles and god, that hurts. One of his ribs might be broken. Bruised, if he's lucky.

All of a sudden, there's a hand clenching around his shirt, lifting his chest off the ground. He feels light. Lightheaded, too. Dizzy. Drowning. Dying.

“You met Chishiya? Where? Is he alive?”, Niragi's voice yells right into his ear. He could be miles away. “Is he hurt?”

Yaba is too tired to think about all the implications of that last question. He's tired. He just wants to take a nap.

“Go ask him yourself.”, he slurs. He doesn’t feel like talking anymore. Sleeping. That sounds good.

“He's fucking alive. I knew it.”, Niragi says, lastly letting go of his jacket. “As if that cockroach would die just like that.”

Yaba falls. Meters, kilometres, miles, indescribable lengths. His head hits the ground. He groans in pain.

They look at each other, then.

“You got a reason go get up, right?”, Niragi asks and between all of the light-headedness, there’s one coherent thought.

Banda.

Banda who is here, too, somewhere. Banda who he promised to protect. Banda who he loves and who loves him.

“Because I do.”, Niragi continues and then he hisses and groans but he manages to sit up.

So does Yaba.

They struggle. They get up, one last time, and look the King of Hearts straight in the eyes.

The King stands, tall and mighty, like the beast that he is.

Banda, his hurricane, is gone and he is no longer standing in the eye of the storm. He has lost its peace and its quiet. It’s loud. Deafeningly so. Because he has gotten into the storm's wrath and it’s rage and it’s fury.

The King of Hearts is a storm of his own.

He turns towards the madman on his left, the crazy bastard that, weirdly enough, is on his side, fighting for the same goal.

Niragi looks back with this crazy smile that says one more time and we are dead. He has no other choice but to join in, laughing and grinning and no, he can't be thinking like that.

“My heart.”, he whispers. It steadies him, it brings a wave of calm. He exhales, he breaths. Somewhere, Banda is running. He has to get him enough of a head start to flee.

They can’t win against this monster, Yaba knows that much. But they can take enough of his time so someone else can.

“You don’t have another antidote, am I right? You used your last one already.”, the King of Hearts says like he's telling a joke. Yaba thinks it’s hilarious.

“We'll make you go down with us.”, he grins. He feels his mouth watering. Maybe he isn't better than this monster, he thinks. It doesn't matter. Not here, not in the Borderlands.

The next few minutes go by in a haze. Flashes of blood and spit and blue skin. It ends with a needle coming his way.

He isn't afraid of death, never has been.

He's proud even, going down even. He's going to die protecting what he loves. When he closes his eyes, it’s an image of Banda that he sees. He's above him again, illuminated by a fire's warmth. He hears his voice singing an old folksong, a foreign tune from a different world.

He's happy, going like this. He doesn’t hear Niragi yelling, trying to grab the King's arm. He doesn't feel anything. All he experiences is the moment from then, the moment with Banda.

“A player escaped. Game over.”

And then, the eye of the storm has encircled him again. It’s holding him, quiet surrounded by chaos. Peace surrounded by wrath.

He feels himself falling to his knees when the King of Hearts lets go of him.

He feels himself breathing. In. Out. He can still move. He's still alive.

He's kneeling to a king, to his king.

“Banda.”, he begs, the name a prayer.

Someone besides him starts laughing, all breathless and painful, he registers hazily. It has to be Niragi, he connects the dots at last. When he looks around, he finds the man smiling, blood spilling from his mouth alongside spit. There's tears running down his cheeks. Snot too. His laughs turn into screams, at least he thinks it's what he hears.

“After everything.”, he hears an unfamiliar voice. A man that's been broken. A king that has lost his crown. “I've lost. What's that? I've never lost, not once. How...”

“My king.”, he says and has to stop because he's coughing up blood. “He's stronger than you.”

The King of Hearts then walks away from them, he stumbles. His hand hits the concrete wall and he looks down. “Not even a last glimpse at the dandelions I'm granted.”

These are the last words of the King of Hearts.

•

“You know, it took me so long because every time one of you saved the other, a new fucking feature made it harder to find the exit.”, Banda snaps playfully when he sees him walk out. His features change when he comes closer. “God, what happened to you?”

He's all careful touches and feather light kisses.

“The King was a bit rough with me. You need to kiss it better.”, he slurs and leans his weight onto Banda who chuckles beneath him.

“You're heavy.”, the man groans as he holds him up by the shoulders.

Then, suddenly, he stands on his tiptoes and he kisses his temple and then the bloody corner of his mouth.

Yaba smiles, drunk on love. He presses Banda close, rests his chin on his head and breaths him in.

“Where are you going?”, he hears Banda ask and Yaba raises his head from where it’s bedded on the smaller's head.

There he goes, the maniac. Niragi.

“None of your business.”, he sneers, not once stopping or turning around. He's glad, in a way, that he's made it out too, Yaba decides.

A smile tugs at his lips.

“Good luck finding him.”, he grins.

At that, Niragi turns around. He looks at them, at Yaba having Banda in his arms, and clicks with his tongue.

He raises a hand as he walks away.

-

“Do you hear the music too?”

It’s quiet, barely audible, but Yaba is sure it’s there, somewhere up north. They have gone back to exploring the land, spending the days on the roads – or what was left of them – and the nights just for themselves. There was something about the little rituals they established that just made his heart flutter.

When he looks at Banda, he sees that he is staring sideways in concentration. He mutters ah silent A-ha in agreement.

“How is it possible?”, he wonders, considering the failure of all technological devices. “Is it part of a game?”

It’s possible, but there hasn't been a single game using music so far, which makes it unlikely.

“A record player maybe?”, he tries.

Banda nods slowly, contemplating the idea. Humming, he turns towards the direction of the tune. Something old, something that sounds familiar.

“Should we check it out?”, he asks and Banda nods, intrigued by the music.

They walk towards the sound hand in hand, their fingers interlaced, their hearts too. The closer they get, the clearer the tune becomes. It’s an instrumental, some old jazz song, it seems. It’s nothing Yaba has heard before but at the same time, it sounds familiar. Nostalgic.

Then they stand in front of a bakery, the door closed, the curtains drawn. Yaba steps in front of Banda and reaches for the handle.

“Wait.”, Banda says, tugging at his hand. “Listen.”

Yaba does and he hears it, too. Sobbing, desperate cries for everything to end.

A gunshot.

Yaba takes a step back, pushing Banda behind himself to shield him from whatever is inside this place.

It’s silent then. It’s eerily quiet, except for the music that’s still playing.

“Stay here.”, Yaba whispers as he takes a step forwards, his hand reaching for the door handle.

“Forget it.”, Banda huffs, walking right up to him.

Immediately, he stops. He won't let Banda get hurt by whatever is behind this door. When he looks Banda in the eyes, he finds a challenge, a demand.

Just as opens his mouth, a voice silences him.

“Game over. The Players lose. The Jack of Spades wins.”

They look at each other, still. And as the voice stops speaking, Yaba realizes that death is close, following them on every of their steps.

He hugs Banda as he is alive.

Banda exhales, right into his neck. He lives, breaths, feels. He's alive, alive, alive, alive-

“I'm still here.”, Banda mumbles and Yaba tightens his grip, pressing himself against the other in a warm embrace.

“Don't you ever leave me.”, Yaba warns, and it’s supposed to be a threat but it comes out as what it really is: a plea.

“You are my everything. You are my heart.”, he says because Banda deserves to know, he deserves the world.

And when Banda cups his face with both hands and presses a kiss to his nose, another to his lips, Yaba falls for him all over again.

“Come on.”, Banda then says, taking Yaba's hand. “Let’s go back.”

But Yaba can't. Instead, he just presses the smaller against himself once again. “The music is still going.”, he murmurs against the top of the smaller’s head. “I want to dance with you.”

Banda snorts. “Sorry.”, he laughs into Yaba's neck and puts his hands around his shoulder. “But I can't dance.”

Yaba has his eyes on him immediately. “Let me teach you.”, he breaths, he begs, he wants.

And Banda – his heart – nods, slowly, barely. He looks at him as he pushes himself closer against him and puts his arms further up Yaba’s shoulders.

“Is this good?”, he asks in a whisper and Yaba takes his waist in both hands, softly.

“It’s perfect.”, Yaba smiles. “Just follow my lead.”, he then says, taking a step backwards. And soon, they find each other swaying and waltzing, and when the music stops, they don’t even notice. They just dance, Banda's head bedded on Yaba's shoulder, and Yaba leading them through a destroyed city. Behind them, the café is lost. Forgotten is the world they once walked on. This is home. This is everything.

-

They are on their way back to their little bonfire, a home made for themselves, when it ends.

They hear the fireworks before they see their glory.

Colourful pride sparkles in blue and silver and gold. He finds himself entranced and then he thinks back to the old days.

In another world, he felt lonely. Once, when he had seen the same pretty fireworks over a different sky.

Here, however, he feels a sense of belonging. The cool wind traces his skin on a warm summer's night.

He can’t look away.

“All surviving players will be presented with two choices. Players must now all decide whether to accept permanent residency in this country, or decline it.”

His heart feels heavy, like he might fall and hit his head and wake up from this beautiful dream any moment now. He fears the end. He never knew that it would be this scary, coming to this point. Because maybe now is the moment where it turns out to be just a dream. That it was nothing more than a near death experience, a hallucination, unreal.

He finds Banda's eyes and he breaths.

This is real.

Because Banda is here and he shines in blue and silver and gold and he smiles at him, the tall grass staining his perfect, blue button-down shirt.

The nights in this land are otherworldly. They are glorious in all their roughness and they are beautiful as they are dangerous.

This land is home.

“I accept, naturally.”

He looks at Banda who is entranced by the lights of the fireworks, who is captivated by this place just like himself.

“I will gladly take it as well.”, he breaths.

And then he looks back down again, back to where he is standing. Their eyes meet.

This man is home.

Their hearts had fallen somewhere between the grass and the earth and the mud. Between bruised and dirty fingers, Yaba swears to never let Banda's go. So he steps forwards until they are face to face and their foreheads press against each other.

They kiss then, in this world that is theirs.

When they separate and Banda smiles like he's the happiest man, Yaba's dirty heart clenches, his crown falls to the ground and he can't do anything but touch Banda, can’t do anything but say those same two words and mean it, over and over and over and over, whispering and worshipping.

“My heart.”

Somewhere between the grass and the dirt and the mud, they will build their kingdom.