Chapter Text
Style wakes up slowly, which is probably a good thing, because it gives him time to adjust to the pain his body is in.
He tries to stretch, to shake out his tingly limbs, but startles when he realizes that he can't.
His eyes snap open and he looks around in complete confusion.
He's a bit cold, like there's a slight chill to his skin, so he glances down at himself to see that he is shirtless and tied to a chair in a small, dark cellar-like room.
Where the fuck is he?
And how the hell did he get here?
He racks his brain, trying to remember. The last thing he recalls is leaving Kant at the pool…he was heading straight to his car. He was unlocking it and about to head to Heart Burger but…obviously he never made it there.
At first he thinks that maybe this is just an amped up version of a role play. He and Fadel were kind of working their way through some fun scenes, but there's a few things about this situation that indicate that this is not a part of one of Fadel's kinky plans.
One being the lack of a heads up, and two being that they'd agreed that drugs were off the table, and by the way his head feels like he's downed a fifth of his Dad's special tequila and his mouth feels like it's been stuffed full with cotton, he's pretty sure he's coming down from being drugged.
But who the hell could have-
Do you think the police are just going to let them go if we find their boss? Stop trying to think your way out of this, Style. Even if we find out who they work for, this only ends in two ways.
Kant's voice echoes in his head and he realizes just who it is that has him.
It's his boyfriend's boss. The one that hands out the assignments. That sends Fadel and Bison out to kill people.
It has to be. There's no other explanation for how he ended up in this situation.
But why? Why would they take him?
He doesn't have much time to ponder about that though, because as soon as he starts moving and making noise the door opens and a man with glasses and a smartly dressed middle aged woman come into the room.
“Ah, it seems that our guest is finally awake.” The woman says, voice dripping fake sweetness as she approaches him.
Style shifts the best he can in order to gather enough confidence to reply, “Oh? I wasn't aware this was a hotel? In that case, I'm definitely giving it one star. Your hospitality really needs alot of work and the accommodations are absolute crap.”
When the woman smiles, it's sharp. Lethal. It makes Style's skin crawl.
She looks over at the man next to her. “It looks like we have a funny one on our hands. I didn't think my son was into comedic acts.”
“Son?” He can't hold back his reaction. “You're Fadel's mom?”
That doesn't make sense, because Fadel said his parents were murdered, and the look in his eyes when he said it….there is no way he was lying.
She doesn't respond to his inquiry, only rakes her eyes over him before glaring and turning away, walking back towards the door.
“If you make him talk, I'll let you out on the field next time.” She says over her shoulder to the man, who just gives a deep wai and a muttered, Yes, Khun Mae, and then she's gone.
Yeah. That was definitely the boss. A boss that refers to her hitman as her fucking sons.
There's way too much to unpack there, and Style really doesn't have the brainpower to try, because now he's alone in the room with this nerdy, yet scary, guy who looks at him like he's dog shit on the bottom of his shoe. The air is charged with something like anger, and maybe something even more and when he strides closer, Style thinks that he recognizes him.
“You came to the diner.” He realizes, “To see Fadel. Who the hell are you people?”
The other man just frowns down at him and takes off his glasses, tucking them away in his shirt pocket before rolling up the sleeves of his nice dress shirt.
“I’m the one that asks the questions here." He says, before grabbing a handful of Style’s hair. It hurts but he's had worse. Fadel has pulled it harder.
“Then ask your questions and get this over with.” He hisses. He knows he probably hasn't been doing himself any favors acting like this. He probably sounds like a spy. In fact, he probably sounds just like a cocky asshole fitting the role they believe him to be in.
But the truth is…his brain to mouth filter isn't quite working right now, because he is absolutely terrified.
He knows he can handle some pain, he and Fadel have proved that…but torture? There's no way he can handle that. He'll do his best but he knows himself. He will eventually fold if they hurt him enough.
He just hopes Fadel goes looking for him before he rats out his best friend and lands him in a seat right next to him.
But would Fadel even want to help him when he finds out the truth? That Style was playing him at first? Would it matter that he's not playing anymore?
That he loves him now?
He can't focus on that, because the man is glaring at him. “What are your plans with Fadel?” He asks, digging his fingers into his jaw.
If it had been Fadel doing it, he would be getting turned on, but since it isn't, Style is only getting irritated and is more than a little afraid.
“To love and cherish him.” He finally says, partially to be a smart ass, but also because it's the truth.
But apparently the man doesn't agree. He lets go, only to viciously back hand him across the face.
“Why are you spying on him?!”
“I’m not.” He insists, “I like him. Why are you doing this? Are you his family or something?"
He ignores his question and hits him again. “Who sent you?”
His lip splits. He can taste the blood on his tongue. “No one. Why would anyone send me to spy on my boyfriend?”
That's apparently not the right thing to say.
He brings back his fist and lands a solid punch to his abdomen. Style immediately groans with the force and pain of it. He feels like he's going to vomit.
“Who sent you to spy on him?!” He asks again.
“Nobody!" He repeats, trying and failing to prepare for the next hit to his stomach.
“Who are you working for?!”
“My Dad! I’m a fucking mechanic!”
It goes on and on. Style answering the questions with half truths. He keeps Kant's name out of his mouth and tries to get this guy to understand that he loves Fadel. He's not whatever or whoever they think he is.
But no matter what he says or doesn't say, the violence continues, until his right eye swells shut and blood drips down his chin from his nose and shredded lip. He's in so much pain he can hardly stay present. He wants to just float away in his head.
But then the man puts his hands around his throat and everything comes back online. He is choking him hard, putting in the effort to make him pass out, but before he can slip away, his body does something stupid. It lets out a moan.
And well, he's starving, tired, and only fucking human.
The man looks shocked as he releases his hold on him, but then he grins.“Oh? Maybe you have been telling the truth. Maybe you are just Fadel's little slut-”
He spits blood on the man's face. “Fuck you. Only Fadel can call me that.”
He only gets to see a glimpse of the fury on the guys face before he's hit so hard the chair falls backwards…
And Style falls swiftly into unconsciousness.
It's three o'clock in the afternoon and Fadel is worried. Style was supposed to be here at noon. Fadel has sent him a few text messages asking him where he is and if he's okay, but he's been left on read, and when he calls his phone, it goes straight to voicemail.
The phone is shut off.
And that isn't like Style at all.
He always has his phone on in case of work emergencies and he always answers Fadel. He's never even ignored a text before.
And Fadel can't help but recognize the pattern here…that this has happened to him before. This…this scenario is familiar….it feels like the last time…
When his last boyfriend disappeared….
So with great trepidation, he closes the restaurant and heads to the garage. Fadel's father isn't in but their employees are working. When he asks where Style is, they all give him the same response.
None of them have seen him since he left at nine that morning. So he leaves and heads to the gym, then the market, and finally ends up at the pool, because he remembers that Style had said something about meeting Kant today and that is their usual hang out place.
But he's not there.
He asks the front desk worker and she informs him that two men meeting Style and Kant's descriptions were indeed there earlier but Style left around eleven thirty.
This just isn't adding up.
He looks around the parking lot and sees Style's car...
He feels dizzy with the reality of the situation. Style's car is here. But it's empty.
His stomach sinks. Something has happened to him.
So, he calls Bison.
It goes to voicemail.
Fuck.
His nerves are definitely shot now, and his stomach feels queasy with unease once more. What is going on?
He calls his brother again.
Bison answers on the second ring with a whine of, “Oi, Fadel? What do you want?”
“Where are you?”
“At Kant's.”
Of course he is. He always is these days.
“Stay there.” He instructs, climbing behind the wheel once more, and then heads in the direction of Kant's home.
“Why? What's-”
He hangs up. He doesn't want to explain yet. He needs Kant to be unaware, because he was the last one to see Style. And despite what Bison wants to believe, Kant is still suspicious as hell.
There are too many red flags and Fadel just can't trust him. For Bison's sake, he doesn't want to believe that he is the reason for Styles' disappearance, but the feeling in his gut is telling him that it's at least related to the other man.
That maybe he is even the root cause.
And yeah, he knows he could be blowing this out of proportion. He could have met someone. They could have picked him up. He shouldn't even be this worked up by Style being gone for a few hours, and hell, he was hesitant about him too until recently, but dammit….he's invested now. The younger man has wormed his way into his life and firmly lodged himself into his heart and he can't shake the feeling that something bad is happening to him.
And fuck. He can't lose anyone else.
Not again.
He can't lose the man he loves a second time.
So once he pulls into a parking spot, he barely shuts the jeeps door before he's sprinting up the stairs, taking two at a time until he's in front of Kant's door.
He doesn't knock. He just slides it open and makes a beeline to where his brother and Kant are sitting at the table.
He bypasses Bison, who only feebly attempts to stop him, and grabs Kant by the lapels of his shirt. The man lifts his hands as if in surrender, but Fadel can't stop himself from yanking him out of the chair and slamming him into the nearest wall. “Where is Style?!” He snarls into his face.
For what it's worth, he looks genuinely confused by the question. “I don't know. Last I saw him he said he was heading to the restaurant to see you.”
Fadel stares at him, chest still heaving and adrenaline thrumming through his system. “Don’t you dare fucking lie to me.”
Kant swallows hard. “I'm not. I swear.”
Bison is up now and behind him. He rests a hand on his shoulder. “Hey, Fadel. Let's calm down for a second.”
“I can't calm down.” He cuts his eyes at Bison before returning them to Kants face, watching every expression as they come and go, trying to get a read on whether or not he's lying.
He doesn't seem to be, but he's been burned before.
“Hey,” Bison says, voice loud in his ear as he digs his fingers into his shoulder. “You can't just come storming into my boyfriend's house and start bullying him. I can obviously see that something is wrong, so, just tell us what's happening, ok?”
Bison's touch is grounding. Fadel closes his eyes and takes a deep breath before opening them again. He doesn't let Kant go, but he does respond.
“Style is missing.”
Bison steps back and comes to stand next to Kant, so he's able to see Fadel better. “Missing?”
“Yeah. He was supposed to meet me earlier, but he never showed up. My texts aren't being read and his phone is off. No one at the garage has seen him and the last place he was seen was at the pool…” He presses himself into Kant. “With you.”
The man looks scared.
Good.
“He was with me.” He admits, “We met up to swim laps. I wanted to stay a bit longer but he said he was helping you today, so he left early. Probably around eleven fifteen?”
Fadel loosens his hold and Kant breathes in a bit.
That matches with what the woman at the desk said. But if he wasn't with Kant after he left…then….
“His car was still there. Do you know anywhere else he would go? Would anyone else pick him up? Am I..” It feels like his heart is being ripped out of his chest when he thinks about it, but he has to ask. “Am I the only one he's seeing? Is there anyone else he's been talking to?”
Kant shakes his head. “Not like that. I don't know if you've noticed, but he's been pretty obsessed with you lately.” Fadel just frowns, so Kant continues, “But I've got another friend that may have seen him. Let me just-” he motions to his phone and then nods to the door, but Fadel doesn't let him go.
Bison squeezes his forearm this time. “Fadel. Just let him call his friend. If you want to find Style you're going to have to let him go.”
Fadel gives him one last angry look and releases him.
Kant takes a breath and then edges away from him, slowly slipping out of the door.
He moves to follow, but Bison stands in his way. “Fadel.”
“Why can't he make the call in front of us?” He hisses. “It's suspicious, Bison. Move.”
Bison looks at him for just a moment more, and then relents. They both follow Kant at a distance. Bison seems to hang back a bit, though, not wanting to get closer, but Fadel has no such reservations. He sneaks up behind his brother's boyfriend as Kant leans against his car.
“Hey, I have a situation.” He speaks into his phone.
Silence. He can't hear what the other person is saying.
“You remember my friend, Style, right? Yeah, that one. Did your guy out front happen to see him after he left the building?" Kant asks, worry evident in his voice.
Fadel is close enough now that he can determine that it's a man on the other end of the line that answers, but he can't quite hear his words.
Kant turns to the side and he can see that he's frowning, so it must be bad news. “Yeah, well, I'm asking because he's missing.”
Another gruff response as he inches forward.
“No. No, it's not them. They're not behind this…Yeah, I know, but…No. I'm telling you. It's not him. Fadel is the one that brought it to my attention-”
Those words light Fadel on fire. He grabs Kant for a second time today and knocks the wind out of him as he slams him down onto the hood of his own car.
Kants eyes widen but he remains still, like prey afraid to move while in the sight of a predator. Fadel leans into his space once more, and this close he can finally hear what the other man is saying. “Are you sure it's not just a ruse? He may have already figured it out and disposed of your friend. You should be careful.”
An almost calm rage overtakes him. He barely feels Bison come stand behind him.
“Kant?” The voice on the phone asks when he doesn't respond.
Fadel mouths to Kant, answer him.
“I’m here.” He coughs out as Fadel's grip tightens. “Sorry. I..I just don't think it's them. He's worried about Style. And so am I.”
“Ok, if you think it's someone else, I'll look into it. Just hang tight for a bit.” The man replies and then the line goes dead.
Kant immediately drops the phone as he stares up at Fadel, face fearful but mouth closed in a tight line. He is shaking under his hands but doesn't try to move. Fadel watches as his attention is stolen, eyes tracking Bison as he comes to stand beside Fadel instead of behind him.
He glances over at his brother, who is staring, eyes wide and watery, back at Kant. “You? You’re a fucking snitch?”
“Bison…please.” Those two words sound so broken that Fadel almost backs off.
Almost.
“Don't look at him,” Fadel spits out,” Look at me.”
Kant snaps his attention back to Fadel, hands coming up to grip his arms to try to take pressure off his back. “I'm sorry.’ He says, eyes flickering briefly back to his brother, “I had no choice.”
Bison moves forward but Fadel glares at him until he halts. “You'll get your turn, Bison. Let me talk to him first.” He shakes Kant a little, just to get some of the anger out of his system. “You're a fucking informant, Kant. That's a choice.” Fadel says, voice low and deadly. He wants to kill Kant. Wants to snap his neck right here, right now. But he can't. He needs more answers. Like if his boyfriend was also in on this. “Is Style one too?”
Because if he is….
If he is then….
Fadel doesn't know what he'll do.
It would prove that he was right at the beginning. That Style was shady and he shouldn't have trusted him either...
“No,” Kant insists, stopping his spiraling thoughts. “No. He had nothing to do with me and the Captain. He didn't know anything until recently.”
The earth feels unsteady under his feet.
“What do you mean until recently? He knows about us?”
If Style knew….then all the times he'd said….
“Yeah. When he came to tell me you had agreed to date him, I panicked…” He swaĺlows loudly, eyes again finding Bison’s before coming back to Fadel's. “When Bison asked me to distract you in order for us to date in peace, I thought Style would be perfect, but I knew he wouldn't do it if he knew the truth ….so I didn't tell him.”
Wait…Bison and Kant…they'd asked Style to distract him? So was any of it even real?
“You…asked Style to stalk me? So, he didn't …he wasn't actually interested? He doesn't-”
Love me….
His heart aches in his chest.
“Maybe not for the first couple days, I mean he said he flirted with you before we had this idea so he already thought you were hot,” Fadel flexes his fingers and Kant fidgets briefly before continuing, “It started out as a bet, ok. It did. I needed you out of the way. But then Style said you were actually compatible and got really gross about it. He…even after I told him the truth, even when he knew you were a hitman and I told him to get away from you, he didn't. He couldn't. He said you already had half his heart…”
Fadel doesn't know whether that makes it all better or worse.
He'd played Fadel, just as he'd always feared. He'd chased after him because Kant…and Bison had asked him to. They had made a bet or a deal, and it really doesn't feel good to have that knowledge that this all started just to get Fadel out of the way…
But at the end of the day…
No matter how it started, it had ended with Style having real feelings. Even after finding out the truth, that Fadel kills people, Style had said he owned half of his heart…at least according to Kant.
All those comments...about Style being there for him, no matter what he did...him wanting his trust...talking about changing professions...Style had known. He'd seen the truth..he knew the real Fadel and he'd chosen to stay...to try to get him to stop....
And he isn't working with the police.
So, he can accept that, because even if he had been a snitch, Fadel is aware that he can't turn off his feelings now. He loves him and he needs to find him, because he is still fucking missing.
Oh, god.
He's still missing
He lets Kant go and backs away, hands raking through his hair in frustration.
“Shit.” He paces back and forth in front of Kant's car for awhile, trying to make sense of all this. He's so busy trying to figure out where Style could be that it takes a minute to realize that something is wrong.
The atmosphere is thick around him and Kant is….
Kant is pleading.
He turns around to see him on his knees at Bison's feet, tears streaming down both of their faces as his brother's gun rests against his forehead.
“I did it for Babe." He's saying. And Fadel remembers that that is his little brother's name. "There's so much, too much to explain right now, but just know that the Captain blackmailed me. Alright? I didn't want to do this, Bison…Please.”
“From the very beginning, everything was fake.” Bison replies, voice sounding calm despite the very turbulent look on his face. “None of it was real.”
Kant vehemently shakes his head. “Our first meeting was real. I promise. I had no idea then. It wasn't until later that he told me i needed to spy for him. That spark we had that night? That was real. And my feelings kept growing even though I tried my hardest to shut them off. I did. I tried, but I couldn't. It's been killing me inside to do this…I hated sneaking behind your back and trying to find out your plans because I do care about you. I don't want anything bad to happen to you, but I had to think about my brother. I'm all he has. Please…Bison…I know you probably don't believe me, but I did fall for you.”
Bison is silent for a beat, and then, "You're right.” He says, voice void of emotion. Click. “I don't believe you.”
Kant looks devastated but then swallows back his pain and closes his eyes, seemingly resigned to his fate.
But Fadel…he's been quiet, watching the exchange silently this whole time, and he wouldn't blame his brother at all if he chooses to shoot him now....but Kant has an in with Cops…and if the Captain calls back with information on Style…and Kant is dead…then Style is as good as dead too.
“Bison.” He gently rests his hand on Bison's, careful not to move the gun enough to make him pull the trigger. His brother doesn't startle but does give him a questioning look as Fadel looks down at Kant. “I understand what you're feeling. And I promise, if you still want to make him pay, we can deal with him later…” Bison doesn't respond, just keeps looking blankly at his boyfriend, or maybe ex boyfriend. “But we need him.” Fadel insists. “I need him to help me find Style…Please, Bison …help me find him.”
That seems to shake Bison out of his emotional upheaval for a moment. He finally looks like he's seeing Fadel. “Yeah. You're right.” He lowers his gun and Kant falls to the ground like a puppet being cut from its strings. “I owe it to Style, after all. I got Kant to bring him into this mess…I'll help get him out of it.”
Fadel barely supresses the urge to hug him. He goes with an arm squeeze instead. “Thank you.”
Bison gives him a forced and wobbly smile. It nearly breaks Fadel's heart to see the pain in it. “What are brothers for?”
He moves to embrace him anyways, because he can't stand to see him like this, broken and angry, but the phone buzzes across the concrete, and they all stop to stare at it.
The caller ID reads Old Fart.
Fadel nods to Kant. "Pick it up."
The Tattoo artist complies, scrambling to slide his thumb across the screen. He puts it on speaker. "Did you find anything?"
"We got some grainy CCTV footage. It looks like a male in his late twenties or maybe early thirties met him at his car. There didn't seem to be a struggle, but it looked like he suddenly collapsed after the man touched him. Once he was down, he was immediately transfered to another vehicle, a black SUV, and they drove off. We are trying to track down the license plate number. I'll let you know when we have more information."
"Ok. Thank you." He hangs up and looks at Fadel, but Bison is the one that says what he is thinking. What he's been trying not to think this whole time.
"This wasn't a random kidnapping, Fadel." He says quietly. "It was Khun Mae."
Kant pales, and for once Fadel is glad he doesn't have to explain why that prospect is the worst case scenario. Kant already knows how dangerous his boss is.
Style is in deep shit.