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The presence he feels behind the door is not one he’s ever felt before. It’s strange and quiet and completely void of the mana that jitters and hums across every thread of life he’s ever come across. The stillness of it is all consuming, a black hole that pulls and pulls until there is nothing left to swallow.
Javier, who is somewhat of a connoisseur of near death experiences and terrible terrible life choices, simply sighs and pushes the door open with the hilt of his blade. The door creaks just a bit as it swings open, giving way to an odd looking figure with his mouth wide open.
“Uhh…”
He’s… foreign, so to speak, with a silhouette composed of sharp, clean lines that Javier can barely comprehend as humane. His hair is dark and a bit wavy, cut in a manner that speaks of practicality over style. And then there is the matter of his eyes, strangely reminiscent of a grain of wheat still growing on it’s stalk, long and slender in a way that he has never once seen before.
For someone so strange he is undeniably plain looking, like a shadow cast across a wall, just another blur lost in the rush of a busy street. Dark hair and even darker eyes, plain and simple and unnervingly clear for someone with a sword aimed at their throat. It is rather unfortunate, Javier thinks, that the man gaping in front of him foolishly like a fish does in the open air is the exact same one that he trusts his life with.
He pinches the bridge of his nose and exhales, “what mess will I be cleaning up this time, Kim Suho?”
—
Javier’s never actually given a real explanation for Kim Suho’s sudden transformation because no matter what form the engineer takes on, he will always be a bastard. Instead, he blabbers about a shitty system and, as Kim Suho puts it, an ‘equally shitty god who can’t give him a fucking break.’ In return, Javier deflects any and all questions related to how on earth he knew who Kim Suho was straight away. What he does know is that the figure napping on a sun bed as he diligently chops down trees is Kim Suho’s original body. The one that he had been ripped away from when he had once resided in the land called Korea.
Despite the clear panic he had the first day Javier found him in his new- old???- body, the man was nothing if not a strategist. The plan was quick and simple: Lloyd Frontera had gone off on a emergency trip for the Queen and so he would not be available for some days, where as Kim Suho, or Suho to be precise, would be a new employee hired from the refugees who would be personally managed by Javier and housed in the Frontera Estate due to his potential and skills.
Now, Javier has a problem with this plan. Not necessarily with the back story because, in truth, no matter what tale Kim Suho could have come up with the entire County would have trusted in him anyway. No, his issue is this: a supposed employee of the Frontera County is lazily basking in the sun, watching his superior, the youngest Grand Master to have ever lived, toiling away at a chore that is severely beneath his pay grade. No, no, no, this simply will not do.
If Javier is Suho’s superior, than he must act like one.
Midway through the swing of his axe he halts, straightening his back and willing the leer off of his face before Kim Suho senses his evil intent.
He marches towards the other man, “Suho.”
A single eye cracks open, Kim Suho cannot even bother to open both of them, “Mmmmn?”
The urge to swat a bug swells but Javier has experience in tamping down such desires, “Get up.”
“Huh, why though?”
“For the days to come I am your superior, no? I believe it is time for you to assist me,” he stretches out his arm and gestures at the expanse of trees Kim Suho had assigned him to cut down only days prior to his sudden transformation.
The look of outrage is somewhat dim on Kim Suho’s features, equating to nothing more than furrowed brows and a slightly louder voice. It seems that Kim Suho’s expressiveness was a trait of Lloyd Frontera’s body rather than the man himself.
“Javier, there is no one to fool here! You scheming bastard don’t you dare use this against me!”
“And if someone comes to report to me?”
“Then you will tell me in advance so I can get to work!!”
He feels his lips twitch. He wills every ounce of his mana to keep himself in control, “why on earth would I do that?”
“Because you’re my knight!”
“No,” he brushes a piece of dirt off his shoulder, “I am Lloyd Frontera’s knight but I am Suho’s superior, yes?”
“You’re an evil, evil man Javier Asrahan.”
Javier would rather call this divine intervention but oh well. To each his own.
A groan rings throughout the forrest, followed by the resounding thump of Kim Suho’s body hitting the ground. Splayed out like a starfish, his former Lord and current subordinate gazes up at the sky. There’s dirt camouflaged in his hair and where the sunlight would have glowed a brilliant gold in Lloyd Frontera’s eyes, they’re drowned out in the depths of Kim Suho’s own leaving something dark and empty behind.
The nothingness pulls and pulls and pulls.
Despite it all, Javier remains rooted to the spot.
Kim Suho sighs once more and gets up, “I guess it’s time to get to work.”
Javier grits his teeth and moves on.
—
The picture painted of Kim Suho standing on a cliff, against the backdrop of the Frontera County is something Javier knows rather well. Always two paces behind, watching and waiting for the next steps of a man who has only ever known how to move forward.
In the body of Lloyd Frontera, Kim Suho had looked like an aristocrat. The set of his shoulders against the spans of land and people bending to his will spoke of power and authority. It seemed as if the natural majesty and dignity that came with being noble-born was finally found in between the crevices of Lloyd Frontera’s foolish behaviour.
A whirlwind marched in it’s defiance. It raged and thundered and thrashed against all that stood in it’s way, as if to say; ‘I am here. I am alive. You cannot erase me.’
In these moments, Lloyd Frontera had looked untouchable.
In his own body, Kim Suho looks like a soldier, lost amid a battle that only he can see. The posture that had once spoken of confidence and poise has become rigid and defiant. Surrounded by the scenery of Lloyd Frontera’s innovations, Javier feels as if fragments of Kim Suho are being drowned out, slipping away like grains of sand in an hourglass. The man beyond him looks as if he were fighting a losing battle but Javier cannot see the enemy to conquer, the path to take.
Rooted to the ground, frozen by his own incompetence, Javier feels Kim Suho slip away from his finger tips.
The wind blows, and dark hair flickers in the wind before falling back down in a messy lump. There’s a particularly thick messy clump traces down to his nape. They look thick and a little bit coarse, as if the man did not understand the value of hair care.
“You’re back will get cold in this weather, Kim Suho.”
The fabric in his hands feel like a tether, an anchor that keeps Kim Suho closer for just a moment longer. He hands it over with ease.
The man slips it on, a deep blue slipping onto shoulders far too broad for his usual brown apparel. Javier’s jacket suits him.
Dark brown eyes flicker down to their sleeves, “You know, Javier,” in the soft rumble of Kim Suho’s voice, Javier’s name sounds like a prayer, “blue was pretty much the only colour I ever wore back in Korea.”
The high winds thrash around them and for a moment, a man of the future turns back to look at Javier.
Kim Suho’s smile is a small thing, a little bit lost in the constant furrow of his brows. The curl of his lip is somewhat awkward, strange in the sense that it’s so awfully plain and uninteresting, so easy to miss.
Javier can’t look away.
A huff, “You’ve always had my back, haven’t you, Javier?”
And in this moment, he doesn’t know what to do. The world around him is shifting, being lifted up and all around him with the force of the wind. There is nothing that he can do because you cannot ask a force of nature to change and yet-
The whirlwind stops in it’s place.
In the eye of the hurricane, the bindings of Javier’s control begin to fray.
He does not waver.
He does not know how.
“It is my duty” he says.
The smile disappears completely, as if it was never there in the first place, and he knows that he has made the wrong choice.
The moment passes, the tornado presses on, and Javier…
Well, Javier is left to watch from afar.
—
The people are unsettled by him (not just the people but the orcs, elves, those weird little skeletons and all the other races too), and Kim Suho bats it away with the same nonchalance he does with everything else. For the most part, Javier understands. Kim Suho’s lack of mana feels like a tidal wave, pulling everyone and everything inside of him before pushing it back out, rejecting them as if he did not belong here. It’s strange and eerie. It feels like nothingness, and it has no place in the vibrance that Lloyd Frontera has engraved within the pavement of the Frontera County.
In his current body, Kim Suho takes on the role of a construction worker rather than the people’s leader. He puts on his gloves and work uniform with an efficiency that speaks of time and practice.
It suits him.
He slips amongst the throes of labourers, an ever-moving current against the waves of people around him before he finds his place within the construction site. From afar Javier watches, an immovable presence ready to support Kim Suho in his current form.
And then, like it is nothing, Kim Suho heaves an entire stack of bricks onto his back without a single particle of mana to aid him. The silence ripples, it is a calm before the storm. A fleeting presence commands a sea of mana-wielders.
The waters crash, and suddenly people are swarming him.
“Oi! Get him to put it down, that’s not safe!”
“How are you even doing that?”
“What do you think his work out routine is, oink?!”
“For such a plain man… do you think he’s single?”
“I’ve never you before, what’s your name?”
With wide eyes, Kim Suho pushes past his people, making space for himself before he is yet again bombarded with questions. Even without the title and face of Lloyd Frontera, Kim Suho is still a man who demands respect.
The tides pull in, and the reeds follow in tow.
Gently, he places his haul of bricks onto the ground, with a level of control that leaves Javier speechless.
“This is well within my capabilities, all of you must calm down.”
The head of the Shovel Knights pats him on the back, “No wonder the Shovel Master regards you so highly. However young man, we’ve been given strict instructions. You have no mana, and I cannot on good authority allow you to carry such a heavy weight on your own.”
Kim Suho, who looks to be seconds away from causing a gigatitan sized argument reigns himself in and responds, “I have lived without mana my whole life. With all due respect Sir, I know my own limits.”
Their conversation fades away a little, Javier only somewhat attuned to the stilted accent of Kim Suho. His interests are piqued by a completely seperate line of conversation. From behind him, the orcs join in with the elves and together they imagine the thought of a small but strong human, picking them up princess-style and carrying them to a bedroom for whatever wild fantasies that orcs and elves might possibly have. Funnily enough, he does not want to know.
Javier, on the other hand, thinks- rather mortifyingly -of strong and capable hands ruffling his hair and of a gruff and irritable voice reluctantly telling him that he’s done a good job.
He thinks of the waves of a tsunami, crashing against a mountain. Thinks of liquid fury and a pull so strong that the waters clamour in support. Thinks of the rocky walls crashing down, sliding away.
For a second, he thinks about giving in.
—
Beside Javier is a force akin to the dying stars that Kim Suho had once told him about in a moment of peace. He feels the ground wrench itself away from his feet, sucked away into a blackhole, never to be seen again.
Beside Javier, Kim Suho tosses his jacket onto the guest chair and swiftly makes himself as comfortable as possible within the confines of the Frontera Mansion’s guest room. He settles himself on the edge of the bed, one knee crossed over the other with his arms stretched out behind him.
The day has been long and tiring and Javier cannot find it in himself to chastise the other man for his sloppiness as he fixes Kim Suho’s coat until it is slightly more presentable.
From the corner of his eyes, Javier watches the tension bleed from Kim Suho’s from. His shoulders loosen, his breath deepens and-
Ah.
He is being watched.
This is less than ideal.
He kneels down and picks up a crumpled sheet of paper and disposes it neatly into the bin.
“Javier.”
“Yes, Kim Suho?”
“Come here.”
The pull grows stronger and the walls crumble around him. He doesn’t know what to do here, in the face of a celestial being.
And so, he simply follows.
“Yes?”
Somewhere in between all the rubble, Javier feels his resolve begin to shake.
“Kneel down.”
This is common practice, an act that he knows well. As a knight of the Frontera County and as a servant of the Queen this should be easy.
His knee buckles beneath him.
Above him, the gravity of the void grows stronger, urging him closer, luring him in.
“Look at me, Javier.”
Kim Suho had told him, all those months ago, that even light couldn’t escape a black hole’s grasp.
Under the pull of Kim Suho’s gaze, Javier looks away.
Once again, the man tries, “All you have to do is look at me, Javier.”
He can’t.
Kim Suho leans down, inching just a touch closer.
Time ticks by and the sand trickles down.
The stars burns a hot white and Javier feels the world melt away until there is nothing left to hold onto.
Slowly, he looks at Kim Suho.
He looks at him.
For the first time, for what might be the only time, Javier sees Kim Suho as himself and that-
The thread begins to thin.
The chains rattle in their place.
He wants this.
He wants him more than anything else.
A little pleased and somewhat confused, Kim Suho grins, "Javier?”
Kim Suho’s voice is a low timbre, that rolls over Javier like the fog. It’s foreign and strange and so unlike Lloyd Frontera. So unlike that disjointed, marred image of a man he has spent years wanting to know.
Javier wants to swallow it all, to drink up the quiet crackle of a voice that sounds so unused.
Everything around him is- burning, drowning, melting -but Kim Suho stands in the centre of it all. Simple and plain, nothing more than a faceless man in a sea of people but all he can see is him.
He needs-
For just a moment, the force weakens.
Kim Suho chuckles awkwardly and pulls away, “I reckon this is long enough, no?”
The edges of his control are pulled taught.
Hesitantly, Javier brings his hand to Suho’s jaw. Seconds away from touch, they begin to tremble. The other is flushed a dull red, brows pinched together, somewhat confused and embarrassed and too much and oh this is all too much and Javier doesn’t know what to do with all that is unravelling from him.
“What do you think you’re doing,” Kim Suho asks, his voice a low and steady thing.
“What do you think you’re doing,” Kim Suho asks, even as he leans into Javier’s palm, pliant and patient and waiting.
“I-“
The tornado rages.
The tsunami festers.
The blackhole pulls.
Javier crumbles.
“I am yours, Kim Suho.”
In the eye of the hurricane, Javier bends.
In the eyes of Kim Suho, Javier starts to break.
“You know that don’t you?”
Beneath the coolness of his palms, the fire burns, the wind harshens in it’s fury and Kim Suho…
Kim Suho looks away.
No no no, that will not do.
Give it back.
Let the whirlwind thrash. Let every part of himself be cut and chipped way, lost within the folds of Kim Suho’s presence.
Let it be known that he is the only who gets to have this.
Let it be known that he is the only who gets to have all of Kim Suho.
He feels the grit of the other’s jaw, feels it as he leans in to his touch.
And oh- how did he not realise this sooner?
“You’re mine too aren’t you?”
Kim Suho’s gaze returns in an instant, whipping his face towards Javier, eyes wide, brows even more furrowed than before. Distantly, the crook of his mouth reminds Javier somewhat of a cat ready to beat the shit out of a mouse.
Kim Suho pinches his nose.
Javier, who is very much offended, bats away the other’s hands.
A low and loud laugh bounces against the walls and Kim Suho, who is close to tears of hysteria, puts on a high pitched voice, “I’m yours” -this is an absolutely terrible imitation of him- “you know that right?”
Javier hates this.
His laughter takes his body over in full force, doubled over and slapping his knee in way that kind of reminds Javier of one of those middle aged fathers that Kim Suho tends to attract, “Seriously, what does that even mean?!”
Javier is bright red, flushed across his cheeks and neck.
This is mortifying, he should have just gone to bed.
Why did he even bother trying to talk to this impish fucking bastard, how dare he-
“Hey, Javier.”
No, actually. He’s never looking at Suho again, he refuses.
“Oi, oi, Javier.”
He continues to stare, rather stubbornly, down at his cute pink slippers that reminded him of Miss Bell when he bought it.
Until suddenly, there’s a hand gripping his hair, and he feels a certain kind of sting that does things to Javier that he would rather die than admit out loud. His gaze is forced upwards, and Suho looks so goddamn happy just to see him that Javier breaks.
“What does that mean?”
Kim Suho looks at him, pliant and patient and waiting.
In front of him, the tornado halts in it’s path, for what might be the very last time.
This time, Javier closes the distance.