Bleed For The Banished King

Finan woke up screaming. He clutched at his throat and felt the steady, dreadful sensation of vomit rising. Turning over, desperate for anything to throw up in, he was surprised to find himself not at the coast or the beach, but rather, on the sidewalk bench outside of a bar. Before he could make sense of that, he vomited into the street. Green and yellow bile dotted with chunks of food now spread over the blacktop. Looking at it made him want to throw up all over again, yet he didn't avert his gaze, searching for that… that 'thing' that had wormed its way into his mouth. 

Nothing. 

Just food.

He sniffed. 'Maybe I was just drunk? Did I end up going to the bar with the team last night?' He had never been blackout drunk before. If this was what that felt like, then he'd make sure never to be blackout drunk again. 

'Disgusting,' he grimaced, standing up and shaking himself off. 

"HEY YOU!" someone yelled in Thai. Finan winced, turning to find the bar owner giving him a murderous glare. Before the owner could reprimand him much, Finan assured the man that he'd 'clean up his shit'. At least it might give him some time to think. Standing around and doing nothing was never really an option for him. 

He asked the owner for a mop and bucket of water, for which he had to pay for. While he mopped up the bile, his eyes wandered the streets and shops, searching for any of his teammates. Or better yet, Banyen for that matter. 'If that was all a dream, maybe it was God's elaborate way of telling me that there are other fish in the sea.' 

'Banished King. Such a strange moniker. Almost sounds like a fighting nickname.' 

When he finished up mopping and handing the owner his dirtied broom, he apologized profusely to the man and began walking downtown. His gait was awfully slow — his fight injuries now hurt worse than yesterday. Somehow, that was always the case. The day after a fight was always the hardest in terms of pain. 

He checked his phone: some 14 messages and missed calls, most of them from Emma. Sighing, he gave her a ring. The sun was beaming high, the air hot, no wind, all sweat and stickiness. Typical weather for Koh Samui, he supposed. 

"Finan? Bloody hell, where are you?" 

"Outside the bar." 

"Still? I thought Nung was taking you home last night." 

"He was?" 

"God you must've have been completely out of it if you don't remember that," she said, laughing a bit. 

"Pick me up will you." 

"Yeah sure. Soon as this zoom meeting ends, I'll come by." 

"Wait wait, before you hang up Emma — have you seen Banyen? I thought I went with her last night rather than you guys." 

"Banyen? Finan, I don't understand." 

"What do you mean?" 

He could hear her hesitate on the other end. He stopped walking. "I mean, Finan, who is Banyen?" 

His phone slipped from his hand, cracking against the sidewalk. Cursing, he picked it up and, ignoring the shattered screen, asked the question again. Same answer. 

"Who is Banyen?" She sounded completely genuine. He felt something crawling in his stomach. Another fit of bile rose up. 

This time, he had enough sense to throw up into a trash can.

…

Emma came by in their motorbike with his helmet strapped to her neck. He was sitting by the sidewalk, keeled over, hugging his head between his knees. 

"Blimey Finan you look peak. Want me to drive?" she asked. He looked at her and nodded slowly, hitching himself onto the backseat. The drive felt like a fever dream. They went down the hills, passed by the same forests and trees, and observed the same beaches now populated by tourists dipping into the waters. Yet, everything felt distant. Far. All he could think about was the dream. The Black Goat. Its voice. 

'Found. You.' He shivered, despite the heat. 

"Don't worry too much Finan," Emma said, glancing back at him. "It's just one night. Things happen. I mean, how many times have I called you drunk, whining about some guy I fancy?" 

He gave her the barest of smiles — enough for her to look on ahead without worrying too much. 'She's not lying at least. Not about not knowing who Banyen is. Her reaction was too genuine. And… if this was a joke then it's been going on far too long for her taste.' When they reached their hut, Finan went straight to his room and closed the door. His bed was still messy, his desk a cluttered explosion of schedules and training plans. It was the type of organized chaos that only he knew how to navigate. The most well-kept items in his room were the Muay Thai gear and old boxing medals hanging from elastic hooks. Ignoring them for now, he shoved off all the clutter from his desk, wiping the dust along with it. Then, he rifled through his drawers before pulling out and slamming a fresh notebook onto the gray desktop.

He wrote down everything he remembered from the dream. Then, he wrote down every single detail he remembered about Banyen. Her tanned skin, her intense eyes, her highlighted hair — he vomited all of it out onto that page. He wrote about her connections. Of which, he could think of none besides him. He didn't know much of her background; the two of them had met in the Muay Thai gym during fight prep weeks and for the most part, they conversed about hobbies, interests, and anything that sidestepped who they really were and where they were really from. Now, that was biting him in the ass. 'Okay, who interacted with her in the gym then? Last night? Her and Nung talked often.' He scratched down a list of names. 

Then, a list of questions. Descriptions. 

"Alright then," he said to himself as he called the first person on the list. "Time to figure out if I'm going insane."