Chapter Text
Following Kant out of the bar, Bison already half-knew what to expect.
Seeing his lover selling him out to the police was the painful opening of eyes; the ugly edges of the truth finally coming to light.
His grip on his gun tightened. Bison felt anger, burning like a forest fire, clouding his senses. He wanted to kill Kant, right here and now. It wouldn't be clean, he knew, but for a moment he didn't even care.
Scum.
He imagined dealing with his lover, crushing his skull, the fear Kant would look at him with.
But then he looked at him again...
He saw that Kant was scared already. He looked trapped, desperate. Bison couldn't hear their conversation from his hiding spot, but it was clear that Kant and the captain were arguing.
Bison remembered guilt and relief that were written all over Kant's face when he walked in, as if he never expected to see Bison again. Kant looked at him like he couldn't quite believe he was real; gaze pleading, his hands leaving tender, lingering touches on Bison's skin.
Why would it matter? He betrayed you, — the mocking voice in his head said. It sounded a lot like his adoptive mother.
Bison didn't want to feel empathy for Kant. After what he did, he didn't deserve it. But deep down... he couldn't help it. Bison knew that killing him wouldn't fix anything. He wanted to hate Kant, but all he could think of was the moment when they talked about seeing the nothern lights together.
The sincerity in Kant's voice. His smile. Tender, longing kisses, like it was the last time.
Was any of this real to Kant? Or was it a lie, too?
Why did he have to take it so far? Make Bison fall so deep, give him hope. It was the worst of it.
Bison felt tears stinging his eyes. He forced himself not to cry. Fadel was right, he was foolish. To let himself hope for something different, to let someone in, to trust them to that extent... It was a mistake.
Bison breathed in deeply. He couldn't afford to act rush, not now. He needed to think this through. But first he needed to do one thing.
"Fadel... they're the snitches," he said, trying for indifference and failing, and when he hung up the phone he felt tears running down his face.
What a fucking irony. It was supposed to be their last mission. And now they were so close to getting caught.
How much does the police know? Kant must've told them everything.
If only it was someone else and not him, someone who cared genuinely, Bison's life would've been different now.
He could've been happy.
But Kant took it away.
before
Bison never learned their names.
Sometimes he wondered, let himself indulge in a fantasy of having a partner whom he could trust, show the parts of himself he didn't dare showing to strangers. He wanted it, of course, sometimes more than anything, but he recognised it for what it was — a fantasy.
He couldn't afford attachment, to let himself feel. To truly show himself. Not until he quit, as his brother kept reminding him. As much he wanted to argue with Fadel, to prove him wrong, he knew his brother was right — as long as they were doing their job, they couldn't afford to trust anyone.
So nothing permanent, no names, leaving quietly as his partners fell asleep.
But Bison was getting frustrated — more and more each day.
What was the point of it all if they lived their whole lifes under her control? Will he ever quit and get to live a normal life?
So when Kant appeared in their restaurant he thought...
Fuck her rules, why not indulge.
He enjoyed their little getaways, the flirting, being chased after, maybe a little too much. Bison was wary of Kant, but he also couldn't help his curiosity. He told Kant about his preferences half-expecting rejection, but Kant surprised him.
He didn't think much of Kant on their first night. He was arrogant, and Bison didn't like it, it made him want to put Kant in his place. He remembered wondering what Kant would look like gagged and tied up, no cocky remarks, just begging silently, tears streaming down his beautiful face.
Bison didn't even notice when it started getting real. And then... It was too late for him to pretend Kant meant nothing to him.
Kant was his escape.
His safe place.
Bison didn't want to think, didn't want to be cautious when he was with him. He wanted to just be: away from his fucked-up life, from his mother, away from the murders he committed. He wanted control over his life for once, a future that would be different. And Kant gave him just that.
A hope that someday he could be free and choose for himself.
It was so easy to fall for a lie, to get lost in the familiar comfort. To believe him. To doubt him was harder, even though, deep down Bison knew it couldn't possibly be real.
He wasn't the kind of person who could simply be loved.
Looking back, it was so obvious now. All the times Kant lied. Of course he did it all just to betray him. Bison was naive. He didn't want to see the signs, to pay attention.
He knew better now.
Bison was watching Kant's home from the shadows with practiced focus. And then there it was, the perfect moment. When Kant went outside to smoke, not even checking his surroundings, Bison came from behind, footsteps silent, and covered his mouth. Kant struggled, but after a few moments he went limp in his arms.