oomm: somebody must get hurt
He is in the library and he cannot get out.
The rows stretch forever, paths double back on themselves, and the only doors he can find have salt at the threshold. He knows the room is not sealed, but he cannot find the exit. He is not afraid yet, only frustrated.
He turns the corner and Matt is waiting for him.
"There you are!" Matt grins. "I've been looking all over for you."
Rache has been all over this room. He has not heard one sound that was not his own making. He wants very much to be suspicious.
But this is Matt.
"Well, you found me," Rache says. The words are slick and cloying in his mouth.
"I have something for you."
"What is it?"
Matt's smile is blinding. "It's a surprise. Close your eyes first."
Rache's stomach drops. "What if I don't want to?"
"Why not?" Matt frowns. The expression is petulant and charming and wrong. "It's just for a second."
"Matt, please--"
"Don't you trust me?"
And that's it. That's the problem.
"Of course I do." Rache's mouth stretches, unsteady and false, into a smile.
"There we go." Matt kisses him lightly. "Now close your eyes."
Rache can practically smell the silver before it closes around his wrists, but he doesn't open his eyes; he doesn't, not even when he can smell his skin burn, not even when he hears Matt laugh and say, "I told you it would be easy."
He sits bolt upright in bed, gasping for breath. His eyes are wide and wet and open.
The rows stretch forever, paths double back on themselves, and the only doors he can find have salt at the threshold. He knows the room is not sealed, but he cannot find the exit. He is not afraid yet, only frustrated.
He turns the corner and Matt is waiting for him.
"There you are!" Matt grins. "I've been looking all over for you."
Rache has been all over this room. He has not heard one sound that was not his own making. He wants very much to be suspicious.
But this is Matt.
"Well, you found me," Rache says. The words are slick and cloying in his mouth.
"I have something for you."
"What is it?"
Matt's smile is blinding. "It's a surprise. Close your eyes first."
Rache's stomach drops. "What if I don't want to?"
"Why not?" Matt frowns. The expression is petulant and charming and wrong. "It's just for a second."
"Matt, please--"
"Don't you trust me?"
And that's it. That's the problem.
"Of course I do." Rache's mouth stretches, unsteady and false, into a smile.
"There we go." Matt kisses him lightly. "Now close your eyes."
Rache can practically smell the silver before it closes around his wrists, but he doesn't open his eyes; he doesn't, not even when he can smell his skin burn, not even when he hears Matt laugh and say, "I told you it would be easy."
He sits bolt upright in bed, gasping for breath. His eyes are wide and wet and open.