After that, after he's dragged away, after the door slams shut, and the basement's plunged into darkness, it's hard to keep track of time. Like a fucking idiot, I yell and pound against the door at the top of the steps until I'm exhausted. Until my voice is gone. Until I stumble, nearly fall and break my neck on those goddamn steps. As it is, I land on the ground, bruised and shaking with anger, throat raw and my face damp with tears.
Later, I might be embarrassed, knowing they're fucking laughing up there, and I'm not doing a fucking thing but amuse them, but right now, I don't care.
I end up back against the wall, the only point of reference I've got in this goddamn hellhole, blind and fucking useless in the dark. I'm starved and thirsty, but all that is still overwhelmed by the worry that he might not be coming back.
Whatever happens, I don't want that to have been our last night together.
He's not sure how long it's been when he finally lands and they let him back down. He hands off the cargo and they throw some food and a grungy canteen at him and take him back out across the flat sand, shove him toward the door and close it after him. It's evening--maybe it's been a day? It was night in Siam when he'd been there, too. It feels like the light keeps running away from him.
His eye burns faintly as he engages the infrared and feels his way down the blue-purple of the stairwell, looking for Neil's telltale golden glow at the bottom. He had managed to shower on Florence but he still feels filthy. Neil's going to want to touch him. He's not entirely sure how he feels about that now.
I jolt awake, heart slamming in my chest, feeling that spike of panic when I open my eyes and see absolutely fucking nothing. There are footsteps, and knowing its a fucking cowardly thing to do, I press back tighter against the wall, spine digging sharply into brick, like I think I might sink into it and end up someplace else.
Then the footsteps have a voice and the wash of relief is dizzying, the world tilting precariously as I try and slide to my feet. "Yeah. I'm here," I croak out, coughing away the tightness in my throat.
"They gave me some food," he says, biting back a wince at just the sound of Neil's voice--it's at once everything he's been waiting to hear and everything he's been dreading.
His feet hit the filthy floor and he makes his way across it, dropping to a crouch by Neil's glow. The fare is pathetic: a couple of tiny bags of salty chips and an apple covered with soft bruises. "You can have all of it. Managed to get something outside, no fucking thanks to them." Back in the bar in Siam, and it had been rushed and barely any kind of meal, but he knows they'll shove him back out there sooner or later. He has a rough idea of what the next bit of his life is going to be like.
With Neil, he does sleep at last, and it's dreamless and deep except for brief moments when he surfaces into warmth and darkness and a feeling of safety that's almost womb-like... though later he'll think on how perverse that is. Around about the time he's hauled to his feet, Neil pulled away from him, and slapped hard on the face. He yells, blinks and tries instinctively to fight before he realizes what a bad idea that is, but fortunately they barely seem to notice. They're already dragging him back up the stairs, and he gets a glimpse of Neil's dirt-streaked face tilted up to the light before the door closes between them
( ... )
I don't get up when I hear him come down there stairs. I barely lift my head, propped in the corner furthest from the stairs, knees drawn up to my chest, the same goddamn thing as last time. It's still dark. I'm still hungry and thirsty and exhausted and aching from this fucking concrete floor, I still don't know how long he's been gone or how long this is going to last. How long we're going to last before they get tired of us and kill us, or before one of us does something stupid to hurry things along.
Coughing weakly, I murmur a quiet, "Hey," and wait for him to find me. What the hell else am I supposed to do?
Slowly he lifts his head, shifts against the filthy concrete, half slides and half crawls toward Neil. It's instinct, autopilot; it's not even necessarily something that he wants. He feels gutted, hollowed out. How is it that before, he could do this work without even batting an eye, and now it's eating away at him like nightmare acid?
But he knows how, and he knows why, and what's changed. Love is dangerous. Love is a bad career move.
He touches Neil's hand, his face, fingers lingering. He doesn't say anything. He's not sure what to say now.
Shifting, body curving against him whether I want it to or not, I end up with my head resting on his thigh, fingers curled in the worn fabric of his clothes, just to have something to orientate myself in the dark. I let out a sigh, and I don't bother to ask yet if there's food or water this time. Right now, I can't even really bring myself to care.
"We can't keep doin' this," I murmur after a long stretch of silence, in a voice I hardly recognize as my own.
In the end, it's both simpler and harder than he had imagined it would be. Von is predicating the success of this little venture on two things, he knows: that holding Neil will be enough of an inducement to Mike to behave himself, and that enough of Mike's contacts are gone or running scared to make it hard for him to find a way out
( ... )
It's damn near impossible, when I don't know what to expect. When I'm so fucking weak, I'm not even sure how far I'll be able to run. When I can't do a goddamn thing but wait, so fucking useless, hating myself is about the only thing I've got energy left for.
I put myself near the door, sitting at the bottom of the stairs with my knees drawn up to my chest, and I'm dozing fitfully when the basement floods with light. So fucking bright, all I see is awful, searing white, and I cower away from it, letting out a startled gasp and putting a hand up to shield my face.
In all that light, there's a shape of a man, and I'm scrambling to my feet without thinking, moving toward him without being able to see, because he told me to be ready, and what the fuck else am I supposed to do?
He doesn't expect Neil to be coming up to meet him. He's not sure what he expected. maybe none of it. Maybe nothing. But he almost collides with Neil, catching him around the waist and pressing him back against the wall, shoving the mask at him. How close is it? Which way is the wind blowing? He was so fucking stupid for doing it this way, so stupid...
"Put it on!" He might be screaming through the mask. He's not sure. "Put the fucking thing on!"
An arm locks around my waist and I'm shoved back against the wall, nearly lifted off my feet in that frantic, whirlwind of motion. The urge to fight back is almost overwhelming, and even though my eyes have started to clear, I can't see his face.
Why can't I see his face?
But then there's something shoved into my hands and it takes me half a second to puzzle out what it is, and he's yelling something to me that I can't understand, but I can hear the panic in his voice. Blinking dumbly, I press the mask up over my face, fumbling with the strap, heart hammering so wildly in my chest I feel like I'm gonna explode.
Comments 127
Later, I might be embarrassed, knowing they're fucking laughing up there, and I'm not doing a fucking thing but amuse them, but right now, I don't care.
I end up back against the wall, the only point of reference I've got in this goddamn hellhole, blind and fucking useless in the dark. I'm starved and thirsty, but all that is still overwhelmed by the worry that he might not be coming back.
Whatever happens, I don't want that to have been our last night together.
Reply
His eye burns faintly as he engages the infrared and feels his way down the blue-purple of the stairwell, looking for Neil's telltale golden glow at the bottom. He had managed to shower on Florence but he still feels filthy. Neil's going to want to touch him. He's not entirely sure how he feels about that now.
"Neil? You okay?"
Reply
Then the footsteps have a voice and the wash of relief is dizzying, the world tilting precariously as I try and slide to my feet. "Yeah. I'm here," I croak out, coughing away the tightness in my throat.
Reply
His feet hit the filthy floor and he makes his way across it, dropping to a crouch by Neil's glow. The fare is pathetic: a couple of tiny bags of salty chips and an apple covered with soft bruises. "You can have all of it. Managed to get something outside, no fucking thanks to them." Back in the bar in Siam, and it had been rushed and barely any kind of meal, but he knows they'll shove him back out there sooner or later. He has a rough idea of what the next bit of his life is going to be like.
"You holding up?"
Reply
Reply
Coughing weakly, I murmur a quiet, "Hey," and wait for him to find me. What the hell else am I supposed to do?
Reply
But he knows how, and he knows why, and what's changed. Love is dangerous. Love is a bad career move.
He touches Neil's hand, his face, fingers lingering. He doesn't say anything. He's not sure what to say now.
Reply
"We can't keep doin' this," I murmur after a long stretch of silence, in a voice I hardly recognize as my own.
Reply
Reply
It's damn near impossible, when I don't know what to expect. When I'm so fucking weak, I'm not even sure how far I'll be able to run. When I can't do a goddamn thing but wait, so fucking useless, hating myself is about the only thing I've got energy left for.
I put myself near the door, sitting at the bottom of the stairs with my knees drawn up to my chest, and I'm dozing fitfully when the basement floods with light. So fucking bright, all I see is awful, searing white, and I cower away from it, letting out a startled gasp and putting a hand up to shield my face.
In all that light, there's a shape of a man, and I'm scrambling to my feet without thinking, moving toward him without being able to see, because he told me to be ready, and what the fuck else am I supposed to do?
Reply
"Put it on!" He might be screaming through the mask. He's not sure. "Put the fucking thing on!"
Reply
Why can't I see his face?
But then there's something shoved into my hands and it takes me half a second to puzzle out what it is, and he's yelling something to me that I can't understand, but I can hear the panic in his voice. Blinking dumbly, I press the mask up over my face, fumbling with the strap, heart hammering so wildly in my chest I feel like I'm gonna explode.
Reply
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