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“Come with me.”
It’s the sort of negligent command Khun would expect of his father—even in Data form, with his expression and height far less imposing than Khun remembers his real-life counterpart to be, Eduan is arrogant. He’s tempted to turn away and ignore him, like he’s done since Baam and the alligator had begun training underneath Eduan—
But there’s a hand on his shoulder, surprisingly warm for all that the touch is glancing, and Khun’s feet are moving before he’s conscious of it.
Baam doesn’t say a thing and neither does the alligator, but Khun catches Baam’s gaze just before they disappear out of sight. They smile at each other, warm and fleeting—and then Khun feels the hand on the small of his back this time, forcing him forward into a slight stumble.
“He’ll still be there when I’m done with you,” Eduan tells him—dismissive, casual, arrogant—and Khun grits his teeth before pulling away from his father’s touch.
Why had he bothered hoping that the data version of his father would be any better than the real thing? He was younger, a perfectly preserved time capsule of the man who’d become one of the Ten Great Family heads, but that didn’t necessarily mean he was better.
“Tell me what you want already,” Khun says, perfectly expressionless and level as he stares past Eduan. “Not everyone’s here to entertain you.”
“Entertainment, huh?” Eduan replies, tilting his head up to the sky.
Don’t insult him openly, Khun tells himself through several deep breaths. Baam needs his guidance for whatever reason—don’t anger him, no matter how useless he is.
But Eduan’s moving towards him—and before Khun can so much as twitch, there’s hands on his shoulders and pale blue eyes boring into his own.
“Maybe the real me sees my children as expendable,” Eduan tells him thoughtfully, “and if they’re useless, I won’t argue with that.
“But you’re strong,” he adds without once looking away from Khun. “You have a rare ability that could make you unstoppable, if you didn’t cripple yourself with pointless struggling.”
Khun wants to look away, wants to yell in this digital relic’s face—but there’s the slightest of smiles on Eduan’s face. His hands are warm against his shoulders, fingers curling firmly but not too tightly into his shirt, and his voice is almost friendly when he says, “Wouldn’t it be funny if you could nail the real me with an ice spear someday?”
“What?”
“Think about it.” Eduan—Data Eduan removes his hands and shrugs, leaving Khun’s shoulders strangely cold. “It’s not as though you’d be able to use your spear on me.”
“So… you’ll teach me to hurt your real self,” Khun dubiously clarifies.
“Yes, but that’s his problem,” Data Eduan breezily replies. “If the real me get hit by the likes of you, I wouldn’t want to be associated with him anyway.”
It’s such an Eduan line of reasoning that Khun snorts, doubling over with laughter before he can help himself—but when he’s recovered enough to straighten up, it’s to the sight of Data Eduan manifesting a lighting spear in his hand.
“So?” Eduan asks through a yawn, eyes flaring purple with every jolt of electricity that leaps from his skin. “Want to see what you can really do with that ice spear of yours, Khun Aguero Agnes?”
This isn’t his real father, isn’t even close to the love or acknowledgement he wishes he could’ve grown up with—but Khun shrugs and says, “Don’t cry when I freeze your fingertips off.”
“Was everything okay?” Baam asks when Khun walks up to him. He’s gently nibbling on his lower lip as he stares at the shinsu flickering in his palms—but then Baam looks up and flinches, gasping, “What happened to your hair?”
“It’s a long story,” Khun laughs, running a hand through it and carefully hiding a wince at the crackle of far too much static. “A really long story,” he adds with his brightest smile as Eduan stalks past with the faintest hint of blue on his fingertips, and keeps it on his face through sheer force of will when Baam narrows his eyes at him.
He almost leans back when Baam leans forward, eyes widening even as Baam’s narrows further—but then there’s gentle hands carding through his hair and a quiet, “Please be more careful when you train—you shouldn’t hurt yourself to get stronger, okay?”
Baam’s fingers are soft against his scalp, somehow managing to fluff down his hair without shocking either of them, and Khun lets his eyes slip shut at their slow caress. Even though they’re not in the privacy of their room, where nobody will judge him for lowering his guard—it’s nice. Baam’s nice, genuinely so—
But then the alligator’s calling to him, yelling about rocks and bananas and whatever goes through his stupid alligator head, and Eduan’s calling to Baam in the same breath. Khun opens his eyes in time to see Baam pull away and jog off, strands of blue curled around his fingers, but all he does is huff before he turns to the alligator with a roll of his eyes.
“Find someone else to help you, stupid alligator,” Khun drawls, and the next few minutes devolves into short, snappy insults.
It’s not until there’s a tug on his sleeve that Khun turns around, scowl still fixed in place—but then he’s staring into Baam’s eyes. Baam’s very wide eyes, pupils shrunken into pinpricks in a sea of gold, and—
“If you ever think he doesn’t like you,” Baam informs him in a trembling whisper, “then I can tell you—he really does.”
Khun shifts to glance around Baam, narrows his eyes at Eduan’s cheerful wave, and shifts back to look at Baam before humming sceptically.
It’s almost like Eduan…
But Khun shrugs in the end, ruffles Baam’s hair to distract him from his unusual terror, and never notices the slight smile on Eduan’s face.