Ichor And Steel

Chapter Seventeen; Stalkers & Stakers

"Daniela, Daniela, help—please," Ethan pleaded to the younger. She balked until urged away by Angie; why did Donna not take it out into the snow?? Bela had been hidden for the last hour well, thinning into nothing but air when Cassandra began the countdown.

"Angie!" The blond was left shrieking, truly frightened as now his physical movement had been restricted, wrists entangled in a light's cord and further locked in the corner of a broom closet. He tried to settle his mind with the likelihood Cassandra played like Bela, collected and contented with just a scare but that look she'd shot Ethan and grin that split her face in two conveyed otherwise.

He flicked hair from his face, huffing to blow it away. Beads of sweat creased at his hairline, tracing his ribs and stomach, and his wrists grew a little slippery. Ethan heaved, jerking and wrenching yet, somehow, a decades—centuries!—old piece of string prevailed and he hung, spent and tiring. However, adrenaline surged in a ripping pulse through his veins, exposed in his arms and hands from straining, and blood bubbled beneath the skin, infecting his face with red and pink.

The doorknob jiggered.

Ethan released a petrified cry. Light seeped through a crack, which widened with a little gasp drawn from the big, metal man.

"Oh, fuck me...it's you," he chuckled heartily, masking the desperate-seeming relief that made the tail-end of his spine tingle. Heisenberg propped himself against the doorframe, flicking down his glasses and eyes doing a cheeky sweep of the blond.

"Now, how did you get into this little tangle up, hm?" he questioned, accusingly with a particular deep intone to his voice.

Ethan attempted to find his footing and timidly bowed his head, whimpering to the ground, "can you just help and not say anything...please?"

Heisenberg shrugged, tilting himself away and peeling into the tight space of the closet. Ethan adjusted himself, wiggling away from Heisenberg's hips but they seemed to attract, touching. In an effort to distract himself, he glanced up, the tops of Heisenberg's eyes raised high, and the tip of his tongue pinched between his lips, intensely concentrating on undoing the knot with one hand. The other alone could cuff Ethan's wrists, a thick thumb in the palm of his left hand.

In the heat, Heisenberg's glasses slipped down the bridge of his nose and Ethan raised a knee, but they bounced to the floor. His restraints came free, and, without a moment's thought, they both bent in sync to grab the clattering glasses. Their heads cracked and a sweet, nervous giggled was shared between them.

"Ethannn!" a sister sung out. Cassandra. Ethan's head had been flooded with an onslaught of all things not-right and buried away from the situation; this very frightening game of hide n' seek.

"Thank God you're here," Ethan whispered, arm pressed against Heisenberg's chest. "You can get me out of this fucking manhunt, right?"

Heisenberg held a certain, worrying glint in his eye; it struck Ethan he was an uncle, the funniest family member to roam this castle. Of course, he'd be in on the game and, already, he reached over Ethan, shutting them in.

"Are you kidding?" the blond rasped, breathing hard and heavy. He rubbed his wrists.

"Well, I imagined you started this game, so you'll finish it," Heisenberg said with a confident point. Ethan held his arms, trying to make himself small and with the wild belief, if he clutched at his chest tight enough, his breathing would soften. "And as much as I am enjoying being confined with you in this tight space, I must ask of you to stop breathing so loud!"

Heisenberg's jaw was so close to Ethan's face, and he realised how pinned he was against the wall.

"It's probably how you got all those injuries in the old world!"

"I can't help being loud!" Ethan bristled, a hotness on his neck and face; he hoped Heisenberg couldn't feel nor see his vibrant glow. "And I don't see you doing anything about it so, to me, it seems like you like it!"

Heisenberg shrugged, or as much as the closet would allow such a gesture. "Sure, I like loud, but I have an idea—"

"I'm not being loud—H-Ah!"

The breath gushed out of him and, unless Heisenberg was about to kill him, they'd never been so touchy. Heisenberg crooked an arm just above Ethan's head, grazing his forehead as he moved it. His head disappeared beside Ethan's, and he muttered, "they said you whimper."

"I'm not—not whimpering, you mutt," he breathed, inhaling to pull his chest from Heisenberg's and quaver trembled in a spiral-like fashion around nerves in his shoulders and spine. He couldn't comprehend why he felt such a way.

"Just listen," Heisenberg whispered, his lips moving loudly. A deep rumble roiled in his throat and his wintry, naked fingers imprinted circles on his wrist, feeling for the shallow welts the cord pressed. He lightly frowned, briefly losing amusement in Ethan's quiet mewls.

"It's fine," Ethan said, shaking Heisenberg's grip away and held himself in his chest. "But this...this isn't fair—"

"How so?"

The blond glowed roseate and dipped his head just enough that his eyes vanished. Something unseen tilted him forward and it became mutual, breathing slowed and hands going limp at their sides, not sure what to hold or grip when mouths met mouths. Heisenberg held his lips against Ethan's and heard the footsteps pass unlike him.

It was short-lived.

Someone threw open their little crevice of privacy and Ethan, compelled by an unfamiliar vigour, launched Heisenberg pinwheeling out, toppling atop of Donna at the feet of Lady Dimitrescu. She disappointedly looked down on their hysterics before her eyes found Ethan's. The manthing was clutching alarmedly at his knees, as though trying to rip out his heart and shout for it to be still, just for a moment to process those wild emotions—

"Ethan?" Heisenberg softly shivered, hauling Donna up. She shared a similar concern as if she knew their secret.

"No, no, shut up!" Ethan wheezed. He glared at Dimitrescu, an impolite way of asking what she wanted.

"Your daughter, Ethan. Rosemary, we believe, is here—oh, why are you turning that colour?" she demanded, hands frantic. "Karl, did you not inform him?"

"Rosemary?" Ethan cried. "Why is she here? What the—Heisenberg, you were supposed to tell me this?"

"No, Ethan—"

"You know what, just shut the fuck up, alright?" he snapped, throwing up his hands. He pointed at Dimitrescu. "Where the fuck is Rosemary? Who—why do I feel?"

"We've broken him," Donna unintentionally jested.

Dimitrescu at least found her laughter in Ethan's panic. She offered out a long hand to him, "come, manthing. Maybe we shall sit you down and explain what we saw seeing Heisenberg is a little too distracted."

Ethan faced the ground, unwilling to give Heisenberg the satisfaction of forgiveness yet, and felt utterly overwhelmed enough to take the lady's hand. He peeped once over his shoulder as he left the hall, seeing Donna's hand on Heisenberg's back and Heisenberg mutter four simple words, "I fucked up, Donna."