It had been a long day. There was no other way to describe it; your car broke down, your boss had been a piece of shit, your coworkers couldn't spare you any favors, everything that could've gone wrong had gone wrong. Now here you are, walking down the street at 2 am after it had just rained. You were thankful that it had stopped an hour prior, it was one of the only good things that had happened tonight. It was hard not to stop and admire the way the full moon bounced off the still pools off the water, making the street seem not quite as solemn and dark as it could have been. It was then you heard it. Your footsteps seemed to echo in a way that was unnatural, almost like they were not your footsteps at all. When you stopped, so did they. Surely, this was your mind playing tricks. There was no reason better, that you could think of, to be paranoid than in this kind of situation. You, all alone, in the dead of night, with no defense. Nothing could be worse, right? Regardless if this was a trick or not, you speed up. You tell yourself that this is just to get home faster, but it is becoming clearer that it is, in a sense, to avoid the paralyzing fear from freezing your heart. The footsteps behind you become louder and your heart only becomes more unsteady as what was paranoia becomes your new reality. A strong arm wraps around your waist, crushing your body into your stalkers, and the other hand wraps over your mouth, gripping it with a fury. Your struggles seemed all too meaningless, you were overpowered in every sense. The smell overwhelming your nose was sharp and all encompassing. As your vision swam with black spots the last thing you heard was your name whispered in your ear.
The first thing to awaken your senses is the quiet hum of an old light. The next was the intrusive glow that was much too bright, so much so that the light is clearly visible through the thin film of skin that is your eyelids. The thing that was the most disturbing was the lack of feeling in your limbs. It takes a second before you realize that there is a very good reason for this; they're tied. You were sitting in a chair and it seemed the only limb you could move was your head. Looking around, it was a very dark room. The only thing of note you could see was the chair you were sitting in, the ropes that were your bounds, and the overwhelmingly bright LED light above your head. You can hear the slow, steady breathing of your kidnapper behind you. No matter what you do, you cannot see who this man was. You only knew what little you could remember from that strange walk home. The man behind you walks forwards, footsteps echoing in the emptiness of the room. The closer he gets, the more uncomfortable you get. He leans over and you feel that same steady breathing but this time with the added cool breath on the back of your neck. You can't help it, you naturally shiver in response. Your kidnapper clears his throat before speaking in the same guttural, deep voice you heard that night.
"My friend has been… obsessive recently. Do what he says and be a good girl, then, I may not kill you," he pauses briefly before snaking a hand around your neck, squeezing it just enough to make sure you understand his intent, "is that understood?" Your gulping and breathing became louder as his grip tightened, he was waiting for a clear answer. He seemed almost nervous but that didn't feel like the right word. Mustering all your courage, you managed to let out a breathy, "Yes."
Only after your acknowledgment did his hand leave your neck, seemingly satisfied with the answer. You hear his footsteps slowly get further and further away before the slamming of a door, one could only assume that he had left. It took a second, but the footsteps, albeit it much more hesitant and quiet, got steadily closer. If it were not the only sound in the room, you probably wouldn't have heard them. To your surprise, this person stepped out in front of you. He wasn't a very large man, and he certainly wasn't nearly as tall nor as muscular as your attacker. The smaller, bespeckled boy with purple hair looked incredibly nervous, occasionally gripping his hair as he searched for something, anything to say. He kept looking at you, then at an indeterminate spot on the wall, and then back again all while his teeth tugged at his bottom lip. It seemed ages before he managed to say anything at all, and even then, it was very meek. "I'm sorry about this," he stuttered and fumbled with his words even though it was such a short, non-assuming sentence.
"I um," he pauses yet again, "you can't really leave, I'm really sorry about this." You looked at him fearfully, obviously nervous, and he recoils. He, though not the one tied to a chair, looked somehow more nervous than you. He nearly shouts, "I know this is really awkward!" His shoulders hunched, his face looked more nervous than before, a cold drop of sweat drips down his forehead; he tries speaking again, this time slightly more steady, "Look, I know this looks really bad, I just," he pauses again, "Please stay here, for just a little while?" You weren't really in any kind of position to refuse and this man didn't seem like a threat, unlike the other one, so at least you felt slightly better about the whole thing. You nodded and he moved behind you. Unlike your kidnapper, his breathing was much more erratic and warm as he undid the ropes keeping you tied. He runs back in front of you and offers a hand, intent on helping you up. Taking his hand, it was shaking and clammy, but he helped you up nonetheless. Naturally, since you had been drugged and then restrained, you were not steady on your feet and nearly keeled over. The purple-haired man immediately grabbed your shoulders, trying to keep you upright. He genuinely looked concerned. Perhaps it was the drugs, or maybe it was instinct, but you fell against his chest. He let a surprised gasp slip from his lips as you fall against him, jumping slightly at the unexpected, but not unappreciated, contact.
"Um," he looks down at you, "are you alright?" You weren't very sure yourself, to be honest. This is a situation you did not find yourself even dreaming about, let alone having it be your current actuality. He seemed skeevy, probably because of the situation, but all things considered, it could be worse. Sure, that's not a healthy thought, but it could be the other guy, the one who both kidnapped and then threatened to kill you. So, as long as he's not right here it should be fine. You looked back up at the purple haired man, who was doing everything he can to not look at you. He was looking away, his hair blocking his face from view. From what little you could see, a blush was spreading from his cheeks to his nose. He didn't look all that unhappy though, you thought. Through his oddly cut sweater, your hands could feel the fluttering beating of his heart. You're no expert, but it felt either nervous or excited but if you had to guess it would be both. Then you have a 50/50 chance of being correct. He looked over you, obviously waiting for an answer. If you didn't answer, he may have to get medical help, but here you are, lost in your own thoughts. It wasn't much longer before he heard you respond, "Yes, I'll be alright."
He looks away again but he doesn't bother to move you away from him. "I know I said this before but, please, you have to stay here for awhile." He reached a hand up to tug at his hair again, "I promise I will do my best, so you don't hate this, but please?" That face, it was too much. His puppy eyes and freckled face; it looked so innocent even though nothing about this whole situation was even remotely irreproachable. He apologizes again, unsure of what to do.
You stood up from his chest although still a bit drowsy. You didn't really have much to say to him and he seemed well aware of that, continuously taking the lead in talking. It seemed like he wasn't very used to this. "What… What did you want to do?" What a strange question from your current captor. What you really wanted was to leave. However, you have been told you cannot several times and had your life threatened. You opted to the good girl as suggested by the kidnapper and try to think of something you could do in this dingy room that would be even remotely nice. You couldn't think of anything. This, once again, prompted the man to break the silence. "Boss, he said, well, we have to do this. So," he rubbed his hair before patting it down quickly, "follow me, but, do you need help walking?" He looks over at you, head cocked to the side. Well, it was nice to know there was somewhere else you could be. This torture room was very unpleasant looking and made you uncomfortable. Since you could barely stand by yourself, it may be a smart idea to go along with it. You don't really want to fall and hit your head nor do you want to get killed, so you nod accepting his help. He was having a hard time holding back a smile. A tentative hand fell down reaching out for yours. He then grabbed it, ducked his body down, and wrapped it over his shoulders, grabbing it with his right hand. His body was radiating with heat, just like you imagined his flush face would be. His left arm reaching over towards you again, securing a hand around your waist. You jumped instinctively, remembering your walk home. He noticed, and his grip loosened slightly, murmuring yet another apology.
"No, it's," now you find yourself stammering, "it's alright, I understand." You didn't believe yourself, not really, but he visibly relaxed again. That, you guessed, was what you should aim for. His grip tightens once again as he helped you walk to the one door in the room. He let go of your waist briefly to open it, but the hand returned faster than you could blink. Outside the door was an unexpected but very welcome surprise. A lavish looking home was connected to the scary torture room. If anything, you now knew that whoever this kidnapper and his friend, the purple haired man, were loaded. You wanted to say they could be mafia, but you had too little to substantiate this claim. The man leads you to a plush couch. It was clearly leather, but the leather was incredibly soft and did not have the slippery texture you would expect. He helped you sit down on one side of the couch, leaning against a soft, furry blanket throw and a comfortable pillow. At the very least, this was a much better scenario than you expected. The man once again rubbed his head, looking for words that weren't coming to him. This time, you were the one to break the awkward silence.
"So, um mister, what's your name?" His whole body tensed up, eyes widening. Maybe you shouldn't have asked, he looked more nervous than he did before. "We should, um, watch a horror film!" He avoided it. That's incredibly suspicious but you decided not to push it, that would be way to risky. You didn't particularly want to die like this. The man scurried over to the television, fumbling about with disks trying to find the correct one. Had this not been such a weird, nerve wracking situation, you probably could have fallen asleep. You were slowly sinking into the lavish fabrics and it was bliss. The man got up and runs back over, using several remotes to turn off the lights and prepare the movie. He sat a section away from you on the couch, trying to give you your space. Was he trying to give you your space? Well, that's nice of him.
As soon as the movie started he clearly regretted everything about this situation. He jumped at every single scary scene and whimpered when he expected one to happen, he was not having fun. Why you decide on horror of all things, you weren't sure you'd ever know. You liked horror films, but that wasn't something he'd have known, right? You had a feeling he may have known that. It wasn't a movie you had seen before but it was pretty cheesy, all the scares were easy to predict but your male companion was having an absolutely terrible time. It was around the climax of the movie when he jumped and instinctively grabbed the closest thing to him. That happened to be you. He was shaking like a leaf, gripping your shoulders like a vice. He's whimpering. He's, and you hate to admit it, adorable. You could not think of anyone who would be reacting like this to some sorry excuse of a horror film, but here he was. You felt almost bad for him. He had said that none of this was his idea and was so apologetic about the whole thing, and with how he is acting your maternal compulsion was aching to give him some kind of comfort. Kidnapper be damned, you were going to follow your inclination.
The man almost screamed when you hugged him, not expecting the sudden comfort. His eyes were watering but he immediately jumped at the chance to get closer to you. His arms dropped back down to your waist and clinged as tightly as he could to your body, still shaking from the movie. Now that he was holding you, he no longer shook as badly as he was before. It was very easy to forget your situation as a hand wove itself into his purple hair, continuing to comfort him. This wasn't nearly as bad as it could have been. You could be dead or bleeding, but instead, you have a man clinging to you like a child while watching your favorite genre of movie. All things considered, when it comes to kidnapping, you've got it pretty good. As the ending drew near and the tension in the film grew, he buries his head in your stomach, fingers sinking even further into your flesh as his grip tightened. He started to shake again as they loud music and chorus of screams only got louder. Yet again the urge to comfort this adult man who clung to you like a child became overwhelming. You grabbed the remote and paused the movie. He looked up, a bit confused as to why you did that but any protest he had died in his throat as he felt warm lips on his forehead. His face lit up a bright red as he realized what you had done. It was too tempting, and that face he just made, made doing that very, very worth it. He stammered before burying his head back into your stomach. His shaking calmed down but you both were pretty comfortable as is, so no one moved a muscle. The lingering effects of the drug were starting to get to you and you felt a bit more faint. The comfortable couch, the warmth radiating from the man clinging to you, the drug, it was all a "perfect" recipe to lull you back into sleep. You swore you felt him move and say something, but you couldn't really remember.
The next you remember was sitting in a moving car. Your eyes had been blindfolded but you could at least tell it was a car. Judging by the presence next to you, the purple haired man was gone, the kidnapper was back. You were utterly terrified. Had you not been a good enough girl, this could be a car ride to your imminent death and you had tried really hard for that to not happen. The car slowly rolled to a stop. This was it. This was how it ended. The kidnapper got closer, leaning over you. Even though your eyes were covered, you squeezed them shut tightly, heart soaring in fear. It relaxed after you realized he had opened the door next to you. The cool breeze and the smell it carried was all too familiar. Were you near your home? Were you going to live after all?
"Get out." The harsh, cool voice that was becoming familiar spoke once more. You were not going to argue with him. You fumbled around with your seat belt, unable to see. An aggravated sigh left your kidnappers lips as he once again leaned over, this time not as much, and released the clasp. Without so much as a word you quickly exited the car, scrambling towards your freedom. "Take off the blindfold, girl." As you did, you turned to get a look at him. Before you could he spoke again. "Don't look back, or you're dead." As that idea flies out the window, the door slams closed behind you. You felt the air blow past you as the car rode away, looking at it you noticed it's a limousine with very dark, tinted windows. Whoever that is, he doesn't want you to see him. That was a strange experience, but you lived, so that was something. As you stood on the sidewalk contemplating the night you felt something bulky in your back pocket you hadn't noticed before. You pull out a large wad of cash and a note, both bound together by a rubber band. Ironically enough, there was just enough money to fix your car. They, whoever they are, know an uncomfortable amount of stuff about you. You then go to read the note, which read in a hasty handwriting;
You did well, [Y/N]. We will see you soon.