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Looking back, Wangnan wants to say his first attempt at flirting did not count.
Yes, Viole had been murdering people at the time and threatening to do the same to him (or at least fail him, but that would lead to his death at best, so really, it should count), and it had been only to pray to get a chance to work with this person.
Still, it's probably not flirting to say your dick is better than your former (now current again) teammate's breasts, and you could prove it.
Probably.
It would have been nice if he'd at least reacted. Way to kill the self-esteem.
He wonders, now knowing what he knows, if Viole had just simply zoned out while they'd started talking and zoned back in when the ranker had said something. It wouldn't surprise him at all.
Still, he doesn't count that one. He's going to try again today.
Maybe.
He starts small. Viole is very shy and ignorant of compliments and praise without strings attached. If he thinks of it as being helpful to the team, he's fine, of course.
So he starts with, "Morning, Viole. Your hair looks nice."
He makes the mistake of saying this while Viole has a knife in his hand. To his credit, Viole pauses right before slicing down into the large piece of beef he brought home the night before. It smells like spices and salt, or maybe that's just the rice cooker. But it has a different sheen from the usual basic meat.
Viole stared up at him. From anyone else, his gaze would be from disbelief, low annoyance, or even an amused "Really?" which would be embarrassing. But those eyes are a bit too hopeful to hear something good for that. "Thank you, Wangnan-ssi. Uhm…" he pauses and points at Wangnan. "I like your shirt."
"Oh!" Wangnan glances at it. He's pretty sure it's one of the last shirts he owned before going up to floor 21 (going into debt really eats into your budget). Then he looks again and realizes, oh, it's one of Viole's. The fabric is too soft and comfortable to be something he'd think to buy. "Shit, I'm so sorry."
Amusement flickers into his face. "You can keep it, Wangnan-ssi. Green isn't my color."
Wangnan nods, face coloring. "Thanks…"
Those eyes crinkle, the closest thing to amusement so far. "You're welcome. Can you grab the small pan on the door for me?"
"Sure."
The moment ends, and Wangnan curses his cowardice.
He won't give up.
The second (third) time, Wangnan returns from a secret training session.
Goseng and Miseng are cooking cheerfully. Ehwa reads a fashion magazine, and Horyang loses to Prince at Quant Kart for the twelfth time today.
Wangnan looks around. "Where's Ole?" He'd thought he'd have passed him on the way back from a rooftop gazing session.
Ehwa glances at him. "He went to lay down. He said he had a headache."
A headache? That sucked. Considering how loud the team was, even with him around, Wangnan wasn't surprised. "I'll make some tea," he decides. "Anyone want a cup?"
Arkraptor agrees. Ehwa just stares. "I didn't know you could brew."
"Old family recipe," he demurs, instead of saying what it was for. "I was always making tea at home."
It was expensive tea and cheap food made to look expensive for those who thought they were big and strong, for those who assumed they knew best.
People like the families always tended to fall for it.
It's a little easier here. At home, he'd have to steep the leaves, ensure the balance was right, and simmer the water. The conveniences of regular living just made a specific tea bag and a kettle with some honey instead of steeping. Testing for poison or common allergies wasn't as necessary now, considering the individually packed bags. Back then, he'd picked up a lot of wiggly bugs. As a kid, that had been his job, making sure bugs only went in the pots of the right people. He doesn't miss doing that.
This isn't the same; it's much faster, but the scent is nostalgic.
He pours a few cups and grabs some shortbread cookies and some painkillers. He could just have a headache from anemia.
Wangnan knocks on Viole's bedroom door. Rather than calling out, his pocket appears. "Wangnan-ssi?"
God, Viole sounds wrecked. "Hey. I brought some tea. It should help you sleep."
"Please leave it by the door," he says. "I don't want you to catch this."
"I don't get sick, Ole." he ignores the little nasty voice that claims that's because he's an idiot and idiots don't get colds. "I'll be fine. At least let me check your temperature."
Viole lets out a noise of dismay. "But that's…"
"I'll send Ehwa if you don't let me in."
This time, Viole sighs. He absolutely wouldn't want to be nursed by Ehwa again. The pocket clicks away. Taking that as a yes, Wangnan balances the tray with practice and opens the door.
Viole sits up in bed as he comes in. Wangnan gives him his best-unimpressed henning look his sisters ever taught him. "Relax, Ole, you're not going anywhere. You're sick. What if the kids get it?"
Viole shrivels at this. It's cute in his oversized pajamas, but the flush on his face kind of kills it. "I… that's why you shouldn't be in here, you know."
So cheeky. "I know, but it's fine. I've got immunity."
Viole hums and watches him uncover the tea mug. His hair looks like it's sticking to his forehead, so Wangnan pulls out some pins and pulls it back. He blinks once, then again.
"Wangnan-ssi?"
"Why do you keep your hair like that anyway?" He says instead of explaining himself. He focuses on the medicine instead of the embarrassment roaring through his veins. "You can still see through it."
Viole coughs and doesn't answer at first. When Wangnan picks up the coaster, he answers.
"I don't want people to know me."
"Well, we know you."
Viole's mouth twists with amusement. "You made yourselves clear."
"You make it sound like you didn't have a choice." Wangnan teases as he puts the mug in his hands. "Go on, drink. Or should I lift the mug for you?"
Without his bangs in the way, he can see those eyes and their intensity. There's something pure in them, certain and deep like ocean water.
He's starting to see why people don't look at his eyes.
Viole knocks a swallow back, almost like a shot.
Wangnan laughs. "It's not alcohol."
Viole says nothing but, this time, takes another sip. He winces.
"Is it too hot?"
Viole looks away.
That's so cute. Wangnan wants to die. "I'm gonna stay here until you fall asleep, alright?"
"Why?"
The question sounds innocuous enough, harmless, and understandable. Most teammates cared in a cursory way. Were you well enough to take the test? Was it something that could infect them? A selfish sort of care.
But they… Sweet and Sour were different—a collection of weaklings around a strong and terrifying person. Them being sick or hurt would mean nothing to him.
"You're our teammate, aren't you?" Wangnan says instead of "because you're stupid cute, and I want to kiss you." "There's not much we can do for you, so the least I can do is make sure you're okay."
Viole looks down and doesn't say a word.
What a relief. Now Wangnan can't blurt out something inappropriate like asking to read him a bedtime story.
"You should show off your eyes more often," he says, which is almost worse. "They're very pretty."
Viole coughs, but it sounds more like a laugh. "I will keep that in mind, Wangnan-ssi."
"You'd better."
The third (fourth!) time, they're at a small floor festival. They'd lost Miseng and Prince an hour ago. Arkraptor is the only one concerned about it. That may be because Goseng had some spiked punch, but Horyang is with her. Absolutely nothing will happen.
Probably. (Hopefully not; someone needs to get some action around here.)
Wangnan keeps an eye on Viole. If anyone is going to get lost in a crowd, it's the Slayer candidate who gets easily distracted. He's deep in thought, looking at some cheap paper lanterns. They were things Wangnan could make in his sleep.
"Are they cute?"
Viole turns to him. His bangs are back down over his face, so he can only see a glint of gold.
"I used to make these at home," Wangnan says. "They were for the festivals to celebrate marriages. I think here they're just for whatever, though."
At home, the candles were made with herbs to lower inhibitions and invite more marriages, customers, and money. It was also a good way to practice making bombs. But he's not telling Viole that.
"I was just thinking," Viole says quietly. "That they were very bright. It'd have been nice to look up at the ceiling like I did … if there'd been some light."
"Did FUG have you training in a dark place then?" It would make sense, seeing as he was so pale.
Viole hums. "Something like that."
Wangnan turns this over in his head. That won't do.
He takes Viole's hand and guides him away from the lanterns. The hand in his remains slack. "Wangnan-ssi?"
"This way," he says, not looking at him because if he does, Wangnan will combust because he's holding Viole's hand holy shit. And his arm has not disintegrated.
"But the others-"
"If they find the kids, we'll hear about it. Or Ehwa will make a stand explode." He hopes she doesn't; he doesn't want the festival to end or the place to burn down. "Come on. This is important."
Viole clicks his tongue, but they've been -together- friends for a whole year now. Wangnan can tell when Viole is full of shit and not actually annoyed at him or anyone else, and those times are incredibly rare. If he didn't want this sort of situation, he'd freeze Wangnan and disappear somewhere.
It was a bit sad thinking of that. So Wangnan doesn't.
Instead, he pulls Viole into a nearby booth right towards the end. Inside are various shaped lights in many colors. Typically, it was all temporary stuff, nightlights, or flashlights that worked with your lighthouse or observer. They died in like five years, tops. Wangnan would know. He'd tried for ages to make them last longer.
But sometimes, the craftsmen at these kinds of booths have something special. So he looks through the rows, Viole's confusion like a living question mark. Wangnan does not consider giving up or explaining.
"See something you like?" The cashier says right as he sees exactly what he's looking for. There are no cracks, just a simple seam on the side of the disc that people don't look at.
"Yeah!" He points at it. "How much for this?"
The cashier squints at it. "That thing? I dunno, my boss didn't want to sell it."
That means it's stupidly, unnecessarily expensive. For a moment, Wangnan mourns the loss of his spare points. Then Viole steps forward, displaying his pocket.
"How much?" he says in that soft voice that means he's not trying to be rude or demanding, but with how intense he comes off makes him seem ready to kill you.
This time, the cashier stutters out an amount Viole pays without blinking before handing the device to Wangnan.
Some of him is relieved, while the rest of him is disappointed.
When they're out of earshot, Wangnan sighs. "I could have paid for it, Ole."
"They were going to swindle you." Viole blinks at him. His mouth slants oddly. "You're still building up your savings again, Wangnan-ssi."
Wangnan flushes. "Yeah, but … this was for you."
Viole's eyes widen. "Oh." He looks down at the device, a simple translucent disk with a button in the middle and a reader the size of a child's hand. "Uhm. What is it?"
He's so cute when he's confused. "It's a bit of a toy," Wangnan admits, taking it from him. "But it's supposed to help with shinsu output." He focuses, biting his lip, and slowly, painfully, the sides of the disk light up, light washing over his hands and into the air. "You put external shinsu into it," he says, handing it to Viole, who holds it delicately in both hands. "And it makes lights like fireflies. You can make shapes, or whole light shows if you record it and give it enough power. They're expensive because wave controllers who are naturals at it are so rare." Wangnan scratches his head sheepishly. "Maybe you won't have any lights like the lanterns, but you can make your own light like this, yeah?"
Wangnan makes the mistake of looking back at Viole. He has a small smile on his face, looking down at the device. The expression still looks melancholy, but he slowly folds the device into his arms. It thrums warmly in his grip, leaving blue lights wafting off of him like faerie lights.
"Thank you, Wangnan-ssi," he murmurs, so soft he might have said nothing at all.
Wangnan just stares at him, lit up in the darkness, and manages a, "Of course, Ole."
Those are the wrong three words.
The fourth (fifth) time Wangnan tries, he's lying in a scratchy fraternity bed, itching at scabs and unable to sleep.
It's hard because these beds are not made for sleeping. He knows the difference. He can tell what they're for, and honestly they suck. The floor is probably better.
But he left his favorite pajamas on the Archimedes. He is definitely going to have to get new clothes. These are old and dirty, and everything is just… ugh.
Maybe there is a twenty-four hour clothing store at this resort. Even if it is stupidly expensive, the tournament gave him a lot of points. He could at least get some basic outfits. And it would be better than rolling around and itching his scabs.
That settles it!
Wangnan puts his shoes on and slips out of his room. They haven't had their own rooms since floor twenty, and while Wangnan isn't complaining, it's now super quiet, giving him way too much time to think.
So he wanders out of the hotel and into the streets. They're quieter but not quiet. There are still people bustling around the streets, some couples hanging off of each other, some familiar drug peddlers in little alleys, shop managers handing off keys to staff.
It's almost nostalgic.
Finding a clothing store, Wangnan hurries inside. By the time he's done, his head spins, and he either needs to go to bed or get some caffeine.
He decides on caffeine. There's a quaint to-go place just inside the hotel. Wangnan sinks his teeth into a warm muffin with a happy sigh, chocolate and crumbs dotting his mouth.
The hotel lobby is full of quiet colors and pale furniture. punctuated by bombastic posters. There were some meeting rooms to the side and a few people lurching down the halls. These kinds of resorts must have a lot of supplies for, erm, that sort of thing.
As he chews his next bite, he sees Viole, of all people, leaving a meeting room. He's rubbing his eyes under his hair and is in direct eye contact with Wangnan at the worst time.
"Wangnan-ssi?" Viole stares at him, baffled. "What are you doing up?"
Wangnan hurriedly wipes his face with a napkin, swallowing his bite. "What are you doing up?"
Viole scratches his cheek. "Rak-ssi was snoring in my ear, and I… uhm, had a doctor's appointment."
"There are doctors here." He'd know. They were super annoyed with him for being healthy.
Viole just smiles a little, guarded. Awful envy bubbles in his throat. This was what he wanted. He was back with his friends. He was smiling.
Why did Wangnan feel like he'd lost?
Viole tilts his head as if to say, "And you?"
So expressive, stupidly open. How had anyone thought he was a monster? How had he believed it?
"I uh … needed some clothes. And the sheets here suck."
Viole laughs. It's light and loose, careless like he forgot not to. Wangnan wants to catch it in a bottle.
"We've been sleeping on the floor," he says. "Had to find some better blankets, though. Would you like some?"
Slowly, Wangnan nods, not trusting his mouth.
Viole holds out his hand. His name is Bam, isn't it? Shouldn't he call him that?
Wangnan takes it, and they walk to the closet. It's not necessary but like hell is Wangnan pulling away. As they reach the closet, Wangnan feels himself light up as he goes to look at the various blankets. He runs the fabric over his hands and brushes the sheets under his thumbs.
He's so engrossed in finding the right sleep blankets that he jumps when Viole clicks the door shut. Viole watches him, gold eyes glowing in the dark and faded light from the window. He remembers that face, that odd, unreadable look he'd had as Wangnan'd stared at the sky himself, Nia's blood metaphorically under his fingernails.
Wangnan turns to him. Had he done something wrong? Was this the end of the climb? No, he could break the window-
"Wangnan-ssi." Even his voice is the same, heady and so confused. "Why did you do all of this?"
He should play dumb. He really needs to play dumb. He's a good actor. "I just wanted to go to the workshop battle and get stronger."
Viole hums. "That doesn't sound right. You didn't have to go out of your way to be nice to me if you did it for that."
"I wasn't going to be an asshole to a teammate!"
Viole raises an eyebrow.
"Ehwa starts it."
"Wangnan-ssi." Viole's voice sounds like Khun's when he's amused and he knows you're full of shit. A solid month with Khun had taught him that. "I don't think you'd say that your hair looks nice to someone out of politeness."
Gah. "Well, it was true."
"Or get me a gift based on a stray comment."
Wangnan sputters.
"Or get stabbed in the heart and summon me anyway." Viole is suddenly all too close. "Or make me tea when I'm ill. As far as I'm aware, friends do those things. But I don't think that's why you did those things."
His thin fingers wrap around Wangnan's wrists. "But I don't want to assume things. That's dangerous."
"I…" Wangnan croaks. "That's…"
"I figure since you won the workshop battle with us and climbed up here without me, we're even. So, Wangnan-ssi, why did you do this?"
God, he's never going to think of Viole as not scary again. He's terrifying.
"That's…" he thinks of Khun, driving them up and up and up, ruthless, of Viole's prone body curled around Miseng like a shield.
"I like you," he says, "a lot. More than I thought I would. And it just kept growing and growing, and now I-uh did not think I'd get this far."
Viole smiles. Fully directed at him, open and honest. "I like you quite a bit, too, Wangnan-ssi."
Oh. "Oh," he squeaks.
Viole laughs. It's such a great sound.
"What about Khun?" Wangnan blurts out instead of basking in the moment. Fucking idiot he is.
Viole's smile softens. "Want to give up so soon?"
"No!"
Viole's smile warms, and he steps closer to stand beside him. "I'm not sure about his feelings. I was sure of yours. If you're curious, you can ask him."
Wangnan thinks he likes his bits where they are. "Right. Can I uh-"
He stops. Viole doesn't make him start.
"Can I kiss you?"
Viole's eyes crinkle shut. "That would be nice."
Oh. Viole is cheeky when he's happy. Wangnan is going to take that information to his grave. For now, though, he will kiss Viole until he has to breathe and then do it again.
And again. And again. He has time now.
By the time they're breathless, and their mouths are red, Wangnan is yawning mid-kiss.
"Come with me?" It's these words that make Viole shy, looking at his hands.
So, of course, Wangnan can't say no. "Sure."
The next morning, it turns out that Khun is just as much of an idiot in an entirely different way than he is, and the way he looks at both Wangnan and Viole proves it.
Well, it's fine. His methods worked on one guy. He can totally flirt with another one.
Right?