Chapter 2:
Aaron's eyes found interest in probing the boy's body.
Legs and arms covered with fading scars and livid bruises, bare back spangled with scabs and old burn marks, it couldn't be clearer that he had been abused in some terrible way.
Aaron's heart quaked in his chest, beats harsh and rapid as he wondered worriedly how immense the pain must've been for him. He looked at the boy's face: eyes bright, varying hues of blue and hair a light shade of brown. The boy stared at Aaron intently for a moment, then rested his head against the man's shoulder.
Aaron was sure that they must've abused him until he became obedient, because it wasn't natural for a teenager to be held that way. The pattering of feet echoed, and the sound broke Aaron out of his trance, wide eyes watching fearfully as the man stepped nearer. Sporting a burly and muscular frame, Aaron quickly concluded he had absolutely no chance at fighting him. His deep brown hair was brushed up into a neat quiff.
The woman had luscious, wavy blonde hair and shining green eyes that seemed constantly attached to Aaron. When she smiled, her plump pink lips revealed a tiny gap between her two front teeth. She looked almost the same age as her partner.
Despite the circumstance, Aaron found himself surprised at their appearances. He had expected to see demonic, haunting faces, or perhaps creepy masks and dark, villainous cloaks. It didn't make him feel safe, though, because he knew better than to judge by looks. It was an allurement for trust, he was almost certain.
"Come here, baby," she spoke with a velvety smooth voice, the heals of her shoes clicking menacingly against the tiles as she slowly approached the crib.
Aaron watched as the space between them lessened, and his instinct told him to keep himself as away as possible from that creep. He shuffled back, pressing his spine flat against the bars just as she reached her hand towards him.
Aaron ignored her. All but letting a creepy constantly-smiling psycho lady touch him. They were acting like having a teenager in a giant crib was normal and that marked a new level of psychotic.
"Let me do it," the man said, his gruff voice gentle yet demanding. He set the boy on the floor and stood beside the woman, then reached his sturdy arms down the crib; the muscles bulged and contracted visibly as they extended further down, and Aaron could see the veins that popped out prominently from beneath the tan skin and snaked down his arms.
As intimidating as the sight of those burly arms going towards Aaron was, an everlasting, loving smile on the man's face came to contradict that. The contrast slowly ripped Aaron's brain apart; the muscles were warning, but the smile was assuring. How could someone play it so well?
The sound of Aaron's heartbeat pounding loud like bells in his ear blocked out his thoughts. The man's approaching arms were now too close: close enough that his fingers latched tightly around Aaron's underarms and lifted him out of the crib like he was nothing—like he didn't even weigh at all.
It happened in a blur, and suddenly Aaron was straddling the man's hip like an infant, one strong arm beneath him and the other bracing his back firmly. As large as Aaron's eyes naturally were, they widened further as he took in the new position, as he felt the sculpted muscles of the hip between his legs, unfortunate proof to the man's overpowering strength.
Aaron knew he needed to stay calm and think clearly, but the position was far too uncomfortable for him to handle. When he lifted his gaze and set it on the man's face up close, all he could see was his slightly stubble-strewn jawline slanting sharply down to the chin. Face young and old, a mind behind it that seemed sane and insane in the most impossible way. Around his mid-thirties maybe.
Aaron noticed the edge of the man's lips turn up. The arm around him tightened. He wasn't claustrophobic and he wouldn't admit having touch-aversion, but right now he'd sell his liver so he'd get out of this situation. His lungs filled with either sand or some viscous liquid and it was really hard to breathe past, or to breathe at all. Despite everything, he tried to keep his composure together the way he could always do.
His first instinct was to get himself back down on his feet. He squirmed, moving around between the man's strong arms aimlessly and swinging his legs harshly as he tried to slip out of the death trap he was caught in. But in vain. Aaron stopped moving when he realized that he wasn't causing the slightest hindrance, the intensity of his attempts only waning progressively. His limbs felt heavy and slightly numb—a natural aftermath of being drugged. That was why he couldn't move properly.
"Shh, calm down, baby," the man cooed, gently swaying around. Aaron wanted to punch him now that he realized squirming his way out of his grip was pointless; he wanted to thrash and kick, pummel him with his clenched fist until he'd drop him. But then he remembered the look of those iron arms with veins snaking down—there was no way he could fight against such a powerful man, not with his weak twig-like limbs.
No, he thought. Don't fight. It won't work. Stay calm.
His hands shook but he willed them to stop with every bit of strength he had. The sound of the man's breath, horrifyingly languid and slow, just by his ear and neck felt like it was pulling at his nerves, clogging up his throat. Slowly, goosebumps rose up along his thin arms and over his freckled shoulders.
But Aaron fought against the anxiety, and slowly allowed his lungs to deflate, exhaling in a way he hoped was calming. He needed to keep himself together and think of what he should do now, how he needed to handle this situation. Just when he thought he gathered some composure, he felt a light, gentle pat against his lower back and it blew everything up again. He gasped, dark brows raising in shock and mouth hanging slightly agape.
The man chuckled at the adorable reaction. He didn't mean to scare him; he was just trying to calm him down. But Aaron obviously wasn't having it. "I'm sorry, did I scare you?"
Not just the pat, dumbass, Aaron thought. But instead he said:
"Put me down, please." Aaron looked at the man through his thick lashes, grey eyes wide and helpless. The man smiled in response but ironically didn't put him down. It irked Aaron to an extent that he was being literally treated like a baby, all his wants and pleas falling upon deaf ears. "What do you want from me?"
"Nothing, love. Just want you to be happy."
This had Aaron snorting internally. Happy. He was sure this had nothing to do with this own welfare; they were probably psychos with a creepy desire to have a baby, and they'd found him a convenient victim for their play. But he knew he couldn't actually tell them any of that. There was no point in acting tough and insulting, because Aaron was sure he wouldn't manage to intimidate them; if anything, he'd only get himself killed or abused. He found it safer to be as composed as possible and try calm, verbal sorting.
"I was happy before you brought me here, really. I-If you you let me go—"
A sturdy index finger suddenly clashed forcefully with Aaron's mouth, an obvious to demand to be silent. The man slowly removed it as he glowered at the boy in his arms. "Don't even dare bring that up again," he said. "You weren't happy and you are not going back, never. You are our baby now, and that's final."
Aaron stared nervously, remaining still as he wondered how he needed to react. He wasn't a baby, and didn't want be their baby. What kind of captors was he stuck with? He couldn't fight—at least not with his limbs so weak and the muscles of his captor so stout and sturdy. Even if he managed to escape the man's grip, he wouldn't have the chance to run too far. They were in a closed room after all, and Aaron was sure he'd be caught again before he could ever reach the knob.
The thought of inevitable confinement and helplessness slowly brought the composing dam in Aaron to a fail, scalding panic now free to flood through his veins. Whimpers edged past the lump in his throat and escaped his lips.
The man's heart ached as he heard his baby's little muffled whimpers, but that was nothing a pacifier couldn't fix. He reached for one and forced it into his baby's mouth. Aaron quickly spat it out, his face scrunched.
"Baby, stop acting out. You're scaring your little brother Leo."
Aaron instinctively turned to look at the boy, whose large cerulean eyes were now visibly filled with tears. Aaron wasn't sure this was normal for a teen, but he was distracted when the pacifier was suddenly forced into his mouth again and held in place, the plastic pressed firmly against his lips.
The man glared, brown eyes dark with the intensity of frustration. "I'm going to remove my hand, and you are not going to spit it out."
This was the roughest Aaron had been treated throughout the entire commotion, and he wondered if he'd just accidentally triggered another type of treatment, the one where his body would end up as bruised as the other boy's. Had it not been for the frightening situation, Aaron would have let out an ill-humored chuckle at the thought. Bruises were nothing he wasn't used to.
"Baby, if you're making a fuss just over a pacifier," the woman said as she approached the two, caressing Aaron's cheek when she was close enough. He turned away from her hand in protest, but she insisted. "Then what are you going to do when it's time for a bottle or a bath?"
Aaron was sure his heart was no longer in his chest. It had dropped somewhere deep in the pit of his stomach. He didn't know how to handle this anymore. Even though home for him didn't carry the best memories, he really wanted to be there at that moment.
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gosh i'm sorry about this cringy writing i swear i've improved now. Also it's so weird to go back to when Aaron and Leo first met each other lol.