'I love you; like an acolyte before a God, and a dog for scraps.'
[Name] knows that he's moved somewhere else, it was no longer the small, stuffy damp basement anymore. There was something more clinical about this place, still the same bare walls that had continued to drive him mad.
The tension was thick in the air and [Name] could almost taste it–– it felt like he was getting further and further away, and he could feel the sense of foreboding and abandonment close in around his neck like a noose.
He had no idea where he was, and his mind was hazy, he could feel himself slipping away from rationality, without anyone else to distract him, and the injuries and previous bruises made him hesitant to act out––he scoffs slightly––not that he could get far himself in this state––
[Name] shakes himself out of his stupor, he needs to focus if he wants to escape, he cannot afford to think like this…
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The house above the basement was small, old and worn, but in pristine condition, it was a great stroke of luck that Henry was asked to house watch for a few months while his friend, Leon and his family, had left to go home for the summer holidays.
Within the house it was a nice, clean place, shelves and shelves of books, and photos of a happy family. And with free reign of the house, Henry found himself making use of the empty study down stairs, something he had confirmed beforehand, under the guise of doing his assignments and utilising the empty desk space.
Henry sits at the desk, flipping through Leo's files once more, absentmindedly. His hand pausing on a new addition, a surveillance still printed in colour, the image was grainier than he'd liked it to be, but still clear enough.
It was a picture of Leo's brother, Declan, at a petrol station, seemingly talking to the clerk, but even Henry could feel the intensity radiating off of the other through the photo. One's appearance doesn't just become that, and now that Henry knows that the authorities had started easing off it meant that he could relax slightly, but this other problem is now becoming a bigger issue than he thought.
Henry bit his lip, he couldn't afford taking both brothers out because then it'd catch too much attention, it'd garner more eyes on this small university town. The last thing he wants is to bring international attention to this place.
His fingers drum on the desk, nervous almost, and the silence rang loudly in his ears.
He should have stopped by now, he's not like Leo, he doesn't fight as much. Why so stubborn now? Last I knew their relationship was on the rocks.
But he is. Declan's getting closer.
Henry jumps slightly as his phone rings out, shattering the silence. He shakily grabbed his phone, his heart thumping in his chest.
"Yes?" Henry answers, swallowing thickly as he hears the low voice on the other end of the line.
"You said that no one would be looking," came the sharp reply.
"It was supposed to be," Henry sighed heavily as he threw the file onto the desk.
"Why is his brother still looking? He's still tracing through the different areas, he's combing through all of them, he's got a PI working with him," the other's voice was quiet and grim, Henry can practically see the irritation rolling off the other.
Henry paused for a long moment, but his expression didn't change, the stillness and tenseness of his body does, and the unease is strong where the other could pick up on it through the phone.
Henry sighs once more, before speaking, choosing his words carefully, "He's grasping at straws. They always do."
"If he doesn't stop?"
"I'll take care of it."
The line goes dead.
Henry closes his eyes and lets out a breath he didn't know he was holding and sags slightly in the chair, before scratching the back of his head, rough and jagged movements, uncaring as he sighs again, more harshly this time. Cradling his head in his hands he tugs slightly at his hair, the pain bringing a sense of calmness and clarity to his anxiety addled brain.
I'll be alright, things will work themselves out.
He sets the phone down lightly. Before sighing once more and standing, before crossing the room and pulling open a drawer. A small burner phone, gloves, and a folded map of the small city.
Henry turns and looks out of the window, and his faint reflection stares back at him, calm, almost eerie.
He glances away, suddenly unable to look at his reflection for a moment longer before pushing the drawer close, shutting it.
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The bulb sways slightly above him, from whatever, and [Name]'s neck aches as he tilts his head back, looking at the bulb. Feeling his eyes strain slightly as he focuses on the swaying light.
Something dark unfurls in his gut, and he lets his head fall forward, staring at the grey, smooth ground underneath his feet, and the faint burning ache of his wrists, that he's long since gotten used to.
A laugh bubbles out of his throat, loud and harsh against his own ears as he laughs, his laugh was loud enough to cover the sound of footsteps descending the stairs.
[Name] laughed harder, his chest burning and his stomach tightening almost painfully, until he slowly started to stop, his [Eye Colour] eyes watching Henry as the other stepped into the room. Looking nervous, unsettled, and the satisfaction churned through [Name].
He looked dishevelled, not as composed as before. The button to his collar was undone, the sleeves rolled up messily, and his hair was almost windswept and out of place. Not the carefully groomed Henry [Name] was used to.
A grin splits across [Name]'s face, as he whispers, "Something's wrong."
Henry's gaze flickers briefly to [Name]'s face and all too quickly looks away, moving behind him and checking the ropes, it tightens, painfully, too tight this time. [Name] jerks slightly.
"You're worried," [Name] murmurs, glee present in his voice.
"You don't know shit."
"Something is slipping––"
Henry grabs [Name]'s face, grip tight, harsh and bruising, his fingers pressing roughly around [Name]'s jaw. Almost violent, a warning.
"No one is going to find you."
[Name] laughs mockingly, loud and grating against Henry's ears, this isn't what he wanted.
[Name] leans in closer, mocking, voice soft, "You're not worried they'd find me," he sneers, "You're worried what will happen when they find you."
Something in Henry's composure cracks. He let go of [Name] as it burnt him like hellfire. He stands up abruptly, and turns away fast –– too fast –– and quickly ascends the stairs. Slamming the door closed as if he was hiding some curse, and the lock clicks like a death toll and silence falls once more. Crashing loudly like tides against rocks.
[Name] sighs once more, softly, gently, and clarity seems to come back to him.
A glimmer of hope unfurls in his chest, warm and a welcome feeling to the constant ache throughout his body.