The Walk Back to Hell (VegasPete OneShot)

The Walk Back To Hell

The day was almost drawing to a close as the cooling breeze of the mountain air starts to envelop the rice fields on both side of that rough road were a man was walking unsteady, imbalanced, almost about to fall down to the dirt. His breath was heavy, laborious and in the brink of crying. A couple of meters away was the highway, leading into nearest town where he would meet Arm and Pol, his closest friends and colleagues. He walked further, feeling that breeze of fresh air, a far opposite from the stale, heavy air He was accustomed to for weeks. The stench of dried sweat, saliva... of open wounds, of his breath, was nowhere to be found.

Freedom at last, Pete thought.

But his internal jubilation were short-lived. For some reason, there's something lacking inside him. Like he left a part of him behind. He stopped walking and glanced upon the road he's walked on. It was poetic of some sorts. The green rice fields on his sides were silently swaying against the wind, comforting him in some way. But that feeling of longing was overpowering his excitement for freedom. Pete closed his eyes, and the visions of him being tortured welled up. He could feel the chill of chains around his body, tightening with his every breath, the cracking of his skin from whips and projectiles his captor bestowed on him. His legs were starting to move... moving back to that path he struggled to escape from... slow strides turn to a jog, feeling his body ache with every step back to where he came from. A jog that turned into a sprint.

Pete ran as fas as he can till the gates of hell was at his vantage point. He stopped. He knew the monster was inside those gates. The same monster who allowed him to go just moments ago. The same monster who inflicted so much pain and misery to him. He walked cautiously as he approached the gates, still as open as he left it. Pete's was so stressed and weak he couldn't help but to hold one of the gates to support his frail body. From where he was standing, he saw the monster again. Still standing where he left him. His face blank, staring at nothing. The wind blowing his hair and the silky leopard print shirt he's wearing.

"Vegas" Pete uttered adamantly.

Vegas turned his dead eyes to Pete. Wondering why he was back. They just stood there looking at each other without saying a word. Vegas' thoughts went back a few moments that day when Pete begged him to let him go. Vegas remembered Pete's face as he was begging, and that face for some reason, his ice cold heart warmed through. The weeks that he played with him with his brutality, suddenly turned into compassion.

The Monster grew a heart. Vegas thought of himself. This person who's now in front of him, the person who he violated, the shock absorber to all his frustrations, his anger and grief was back after releasing him...

The same person who understood him, his deepest thoughts... his aspirations. His pain.

"Khun... let me go please..." Vegas could still remember Pete's voice. It cracked as it implored. Vegas knew Pete was at his breaking point. Vegas's eyes went from stark to watery as he placed his forehead into Pete's, who was still in chains, his hands in the air. He could smell the musk Pete's body was emitting, Pete's breath, which was dry and putrid. But those smells doesn't put Vegas off. He stayed in that position for a while as if comforted and cradled then he felt Pete's lips touching his. He felt a sense of peace as it happened. For the longest time he was excited about something and also terrified at the same time. "This plaything knew too much about me, but at the same time, I want him to live his life and set him free" Vegas thought.

Vegas pulled himself back from the amorous and stinky kiss and started to remove Pete's chains. Pete fell to the dirty bed, still full of that instant noodle that spilled there weeks back.

"Stay there" Vegas commanded as he went out of the room.

Pete lay there, staring at the ceiling, exhausted and weak. He couldn't believe what he has done.