yall's support and comments keep me writing ngll love yall.
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For a few joyous moments, Y/n was in a state of denial. This isn't real, I'm hallucinating. But there was the living, breathing proof that — oh my fucking god...
I'm actually dead.
That revelation was unmatched by any sort of fear the (h/c) boy had experienced in his life. His heart was no longer rapping against his chest, instead it was clenched, sunken into the bottom of his stomach.
"You told someone about me, huh? Not the plan, but I suppose I should've expected it for not setting up some ground rules when I had the chance," The Swine mumbled, and his tone and body language were so casual and comfortable that it was like he did not fear the possibility of being caught in this act.
Y/n couldn't breathe.
"Chris?" He didn't hear himself say, his voice so quiet that he would've assumed the man sitting on his kitchen table didn't hear him if not for the way he hummed and said:
"Oh, geez, you found me out quick." He leaned back, using his hands to prop himself up on the cold marble surface.
Y/n stumbled back a step. No fucking way.
"Hah. Kidding, kidding. Maybe. Never know, maybe I am Chris. Maybe I'm not. Who can say?" The Swine laughed without humor, his demeanor relaxed enough to give Y/n just enough time to think of something to do. Something to either get this dude out, or at least keep Y/n alive and well.
The (h/c) boy's eyes darted around the room, uncertain of how exactly he'd do anything. This man had managed to kidnap people of all shapes and sizes, so he definitely had to have some crazy psycho strength and intelligence. Running was out of the picture. There was nowhere he could go that The Swine couldn't.
What was strange to Y/n, stranger than all of this, was the fact that The Swine seemed to be in no hurry to make the murderous move that the (h/c) male expected him to. If he wanted Y/n dead, he certainly wasn't showing it, but, then again, did this murderer even want any of his victims dead?
Nobody could have a personal vendetta against as many people as The Swine had killed. Y/n knew or had at least spoke to the majority of the victims (which was something that was odd in itself) and some of them were kind, caring people.
How anyone could have beef with them to the point of killing them was far beyond Y/n's knowledge, and that just fueled his "path of least resistance" theory of this killer doing what he did solely out of sadism or for some sort of sick power trip. He wanted to believe there was another reason, one less cruel, but he couldn't take the time to figure that out now.
After all, during all of that internal panic, The Swine had slid off of the table and held a knife in a loose grip, making it sway lazily at his side.
"It's adorable when you act so afraid like that," The Swine mused, taking slow steps toward the back-stepping boy, who eyed both the killer and the knife warily.
"I'm not acting," Y/n said, imagining a world where he spoke confidently and not as if he was about ten seconds away from passing out.
And he nearly did just that when The Swine suddenly took a long step forward, slamming Y/n into the wall before quickly following to pin him just with the close proximity.
A surprised noise left Y/n's throat, and, just as suddenly, there was a large, gloved hand cradling the side of his face, lifting his head up to stare into the mask's artificial eyes.
"Oh, I know," The Swine spoke slowly, his tone almost intimate when altered underneath the mask. "You don't make it hard to find out."
Then, the killer was grabbing Y/n's hand gently and lifting it up, showing the (h/c) boy just how bad it was shaking. Y/n didn't look at his hand for long though, (e/c) eyes returning to the knife that's handle was pressed against his wrist now that The Swine held his (s/c) hand up.
There's no way he's trying to overpower me with a loving caress.
"God, you make it so hard to keep my hands off of you," The Swine muttered, and if that didn't confuse Y/n...
Scratch that trying part. I'm definitely feeling pretty overpowered.
Y/n was appalled by his mind immediately going to the question of is this normal? Fuck no, it isn't! He's probably going to stab you! But Y/n knew that wasn't what that question meant in this moment. It meant, is it normal for a killer to talk to me like we're about to fuck before gutting me?
"Honestly, why the fuck did I wait so long? You're hardly fighting back," The man said, tucking a piece of (h/c) hair behind Y/n's ear.
Y/n's uncertain eyes met The Swine's fake ones, the entirety of his statement making zero sense to Y/n's already overwhelmed brain. Y/n only pressed himself harder against the wall, trying hopelessly to get away from the knife that followed him.
Every effort felt stupid, but how much could Y/n really struggle against a man who's twice his size and armed? He wasn't stabbing him yet, so maybe he could keep that optimism implemented in the killer.
The (h/c) boy's phone chimed in his pocket, probably a text from Erin. The noise left Y/n's focus immediately, because Erin could wait, but apparently it was significant enough for the man holding a knife to Y/n's form to notice.
"Oh, that reminds me," The Swine mumbled, the hand that held Y/n's wrist traveling to hold the knife against his neck, the other arm moving from his face to slip the boy's phone out of his pocket.
Y/n didn't — the very last thing he wanted was to feel the dread that took him. He wanted to be detached from it, like he had always tried to be when he was younger. He'd succeeded then, shutting off certain emotions that he was scared of feeling too strongly.
Fear was not one of them.
The cold metal warmed against the body heat of his throat, though the menace of the weapon was not dimmed in any sort of way. It was still a solid threat of death, placing Y/n's fragile life in the hands of someone who was not only unafraid of taking it, but joyous to.
Yet, the man who dangled Y/n's very being on the tips of his fingers simply looked through the (h/c) male's phone and added himself, named as just a few heart emojis, as a contact.
"I was going to have a little speech about not telling a goddamn soul about our little chat the other night, but I guess that's outdated, so let's just make this quick," The Swine said, his beady-eyed stare returning to Y/n as he set his phone back in the smaller male's pocket.
The Swine did not remove the press of the knife from Y/n's (s/c) skin, and he did not seem eager to.
"I don't give a fuck if you talk to your little friends about me," The Swine only talked about Y/n's friends with a bitter tone. "Hell, I don't even care if you tell the police. I'd be surprised if they do jack-shit. They can't find me now, they won't find me then."
The Swine spoke with a confidence that Y/n knew didn't stem from ego, especially because it was, unfortunately, a fact. Y/n did however note the way that The Swine spoke as if he was not talking to Y/n, and did so with no hidden amount of annoyance present in his tone.
"Are you going to kill me?" Y/n asked, voice quiet and shaky. He didn't stutter, but, in the end, that didn't matter. His terror was apparent to even a blind man.
The Swine seemed to ponder the question for a moment, keeping the knife a firm and threatening pressure on the other boy's throat till abruptly it disappeared with a recoil.
"Not yet. Not now. Depends on when you start to annoy me, which," The Swine grinned underneath the mask, "knowing you, is very unlikely." And then he was holding the side of Y/n's face again.
The killer regarded the lack of response from Y/n, his expression remaining as the mask of fright he'd hoped to ease just a little bit with that last statement, and dropped his face.
"Eh. Well, just be polite, don't ever lie, and be careful who you let close to you, and we'll be fine. Sounds easy enough, right?" The Swine shoved the knife back in his coat pocket, a movement that had Y/n's shoulders relaxing just slightly.
"...Right," Y/n said when it became clear that The Swine wanted an answer. The lack of explanation was very... odd to the (h/c) boy. Truthfully, he hadn't expected one, but he was just dropped a few directions to something he didn't know how to build and didn't have the materials to anyway.
How fun.
"Oh, and if you block that number, I'll gut you," The Swine said passively, before pulling a water bottle from his seemingly bottomless pockets and holding it out, offering it to Y/n, who took it under the impression that he wasn't given the choice not to. "Drink that. As much as you can stomach. It's going to be impossible for you to sleep tonight, and we can't have my love losing sleep, can we? That'll help."
The tenderness in The Swine's tone was frightening, how easily it could be added and taken away like that. It seemed to depend on whether Y/n's reaction to the words paired with it was satisfying enough.
The unsure look of Surely he doesn't expect me to drink drugged water? took away that intimate leveledness in The Swine's deep, altered voice.
"Well, not like you get a choice. Whether you drink it yourself or have me force it down your throat is your call," The Swine shrugged, indifferent to either of those options, it seemed.
Y/n unscrewed to cap and drank it.
"Good boy." The fondness was back in the man's tone. As a reward for Y/n's forced compliance, The Swine backed off, returning to the kitchen and doing something that the (h/c) male didn't pay attention to.
Y/n stopped at half the bottle, putting the cap back on and tossing the bottle to the floor.
"Why are you doing this?" Y/n asked quietly, his vision going in and out of focus. He was already exhausted, so what the hell would this drug do on top of that?
What's he going to do once I'm out?
The thought implied things that Y/n didn't even want to imagine. He should really — should really try to leave while he still... can...
But... he wouldn't have time to — to go anywhere like this, and The Swine would just... just catch... up.
No, he'd just have to... wait... until...
Footsteps echoed somewhere, louder than they would be. Everything was loud, but the voice that Y/n heard was underneath the surrounding noise. The noise that was comprised of things that Y/n hadn't heard before.
Buzzing, a lot of... a lot of buzzing.
"Shh, shh, no more questions. There will be a time for those. But, you're tired now, right? So just let yourself sleep."
A black blur approached, warm arms being wrapped around Y/n's swaying body, steadying him. He felt himself be picked up, an arm hooked underneath his knees and back.
"Yes, sleep. There you go."
Sleep...
Ok.
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