After hours of trying to find a way to occupy himself – from going to bed to going back to the sofa and tidying the stuff on it – Ventus only realized he had actually managed to fall asleep right there when footsteps startled him.

He needed a moment, but when he heard the small creaking sound his bedroom door made, he was heavily alarmed.

"The hell are you doing in there?!" he demanded to know, jumping up and almost falling down, still drowsy from the bad slumber.

He stopped in the door frame and watched Vanitas burrowing into the medicine cupboard.

"Hey, I'm talking to you!"

Instead of an answer, he got his phone flying back in his direction and only just caught it before it could fall to the floor. It was in one piece and nothing seemed off about it. But just how had this guy managed to get it back?

Apparently he had found all he needed, and for a second there it seemed like he would just squeeze past Ventus, but he actually stopped for a second when the blonde spoke again.

"You're bleeding."

He was mad at himself for sounding so concerned, when obviously he wasn't, but the wound on the raven's head looked awful and downright dangerous. But instead of being worried, he laughed gleefully.

"Oh really? I never knew."

And shoved Ventus out of the way before making his way to the bathroom.

"You-you think this is funny, don't you? I'm still talking to you, god damn it!"

But Vanitas had already locked himself in, and Ventus didn't believe he was going to get out of there anytime soon. Just what was this guy doing? Why was he bleeding, why did it always have to be Ventus who got into this kind of trouble?

He sighed and gave his phone a closer look. All as he remembered it, but he would surely keep his guard up about it. All of this was too crazy not to be suspicious.

But what was he supposed to do now? Pretend nothing had happened? Other than still being in pain from being torn up to the ceiling, he was both hungry and tired, and felt neither like sleeping nor like eating.

What he did do eventually was stare at the wall until he heard noise coming from the bathroom door.

"So, how did you get this back, anyway?"

He tried to sound all casual about it, as if they were exchanging reports about how their days went, but in reality, he was unbelievably curious.

"Take a guess. I took it back from the guy who stole it. Simple enough."

"Wow, aren't you funny. I was talking about, you know, how you found him."

Instead of answering, Vanitas shot him an evil laugh and a raised eyebrow before sitting down on the sofa right next to Ventus. He was back in a great mood, it seemed.

"Yeah, you're totally right. I shouldn't ask, for my sake. So, you sure he didn't like, steal all my numbers and is already on his way to slaughter my whole family?"

He kept his disinterested tone up, when actually he really wondered about that part a bit. Having someones data in any kind of way could lead to quite some danger, and he didn't know how much that guy had already done with his phone.

"I am very sure that he will not slaughter anyone in your family. Ever, in fact."

"Oh? Didn't think you could be so persuasive."

That was a lie. Just one look at Vanitas was enough to see that he had ways of making people do what he wanted. And if Ventus would have to guess – which he didn't want to do – he would assume that the thief was probably not even alive anymore.

He sat up, trying to shake off the very bad feeling the thought alone gave him, and instead focused on Vanitas, who himself was inspecting a cut – which was actually more a flesh wound – on his belly, looking more bored than anything else.

"You're not even concerned about that, are you?"

He looked up and shot Ventus the probably shortest look available, before looking back at the wound.

"Not really."

With that, he got up, probably to fix himself up a bit more. Not that Ventus were a doctor or anything, but he almost found himself suggesting to go see one – almost, as he immediately realized that first of all, he had enough problems on his own, and second, Vanitas was probably too proud for that anyway.

But Ventus still wanted at least some answers. Something, anything to give him back the ability to sleep peacefully at night. Because currently, he didn't feel like he could.

So he waited, more or less patiently, until the bathroom door opened again.

"Where have you been all this time anyway?"

"That's hardly any of your business."

He rolled his eyes. This was going great.

"I kinda feel like it's my business if I'm the one being mugged and all. You want me to do what you say, but I hardly see a reason to, really."

He waited for an answer, but nothing. Of course nothing. Why had he even expected to be successful with this?

Giving up, he decided to go to bed. Where was the use in this, trying to get answers, tired as hell and with the worst headache ever? There was no getting through to this guy.

He was already at the door frame when he did actually hear words, coming from the kitchen.

"You win. Get over here."

That...sounded way too good to be the truth, and he was highly skeptical about it, but at the same time way too curious not to obey.

Vanitas was leaning against the kitchen counter, fiddling on something Ventus couldn't really see, looking anything but pleased about everything in the world.

"Uh. So?"

"Sit down."

"But-"

"Sit. Down."

He did, as it was obviously the only way to get some sort of cooperation from this guy, even though the bad feeling he got out of all of this didn't necessarily get less in the process.

Nothing really happened, and he didn't dare ask for anything again, as he was pretty sure Vanitas hadn't forgotten about him sitting here – he was just working on whatever it was he had in his hands, and took his time with it – annoyingly long, at that.

It was when Ventus already looked away that he got handed something. A rope, in fact.

"What...exactly is this about?"

"Just untie it. To keep you occupied."

"Why?"

No answer. Of course no answer, so he decided to just go for it and try; to no avail, which he had also already expected in all honesty.

It took him about ten minutes and slightly grazed fingertips to finally give up.

"Heavens, I can't do it. Are you happy now?"

With a rather disinterested look, Vanitas – who had just been staring at him all this time apparently – took the rope back out of his hands and rolled his eyes. Well, whatever, maybe getting answers really wasn't worth all this stupidity.

"Screw it, I'm going to bed."

"Oh, but we're not even finished here yet."

"Well, that's too bad for you. Because I am."

While getting up, he already knew that hadn't necessarily been the smartest thing to say. It was even more obvious when he was grabbed by the shoulder and shoved back into the seat rather roughly.

"You and me. We are both done here when I say it. You'd best get used to it."

He didn't know if he should respond to that, and if yes, with what, and decided to instead just frown and hope this wasn't going to be his last night on earth. Was this finally what he had feared all this time?

There was no time for him to regret when his hand was grabbed and, faster than he could even comprehend it, tied to the table leg right next to him. He didn't even have time to fight back before the same thing happened to his other wrist.

"Wow, what the hell! Stop it, let me go!"

"Didn't you say you want a reason to cooperate?"

"What on earth does this have to do with...woah, hey, you want to be careful with that, right?!"

Even if he could move away from the table, he wouldn't have been fast enough to flee before his one and only cleaver was rammed into – no, through – the table right in front of him.

"Here's the thing. I have absolutely no reason nor obligation to do or not do anything you want from me. Can't say the same for you, unfortunately."

He didn't want to listen to any of this nonsense. If this, only this, was who Vanitas really was, then things did in fact finally make sense – a little late for Ventus's liking, as this would probably really be where he would die.

"You're sick! Absolutely insane! I knew you had some sort of serious problem up there the first time we met. But this beats everything I could've imagined! Get away from me!"

Without even noticing it, he had started screaming, and very loudly so. That was actually a splendid idea, as maybe it would cause his neighbors to call the police. Sure, that would probably be too late for him, but maybe they would at least catch this freak in time.

His idea was cut off pretty fast though, by stuffing his mouth with a towel. It felt awful and trying to spit it out only resulted in it urging him to gag, so he stopped.

"You were asking for a reason to do what I say, and I am giving you one – quite nicely so, if I may add. I think it's time you start understanding what kind of situation you are in."

Ventus tried not to listen, focused on the table – even looking at the cleaver was better than looking at Vanitas, who was probably just staring down on him like the psycho he was.

What a great way to end his life, right? He should've called the police from the get-go, should've run and never come back. Sure, maybe Vanitas would have taken the time to try and find him, because knowing his face and the fact that the things he did couldn't even barely be legal, Ventus might be a threat.

But wasn't being hunted down and killed at least a little less pitiful than actually allowing the person in your life?

He tried to blink his tears away, and finally looked up when the knife was being taken out of the table, Vanitas now absently turning it in his hands. Was he thinking about the best way to cut Ventus in pieces? Because he sure looked like he did. But there was more to it. A kind of disappointment he had already shown when Ventus had entered the kitchen, and that was actually the most unsettling part.

Instead of hurting him, Vanitas sat on the table, one leg on each side of the chair Ventus was sitting on, eyes on him again now, with the shimmering amber giving away nothing about all of this.

He put the cleaver on the table next to his hip and instead picked a pocketknife from his pants. Other than looking down at it, he raised it so that it was exactly between their faces, looking perfectly sharp and ready to kill.

Instinctively, Ventus wanted to say, scream something, momentarily having forgotten about the cloth in his mouth, and now finally gagging.

At least Vanitas had the decency to pull it out and allow Ventus to cough until he could finally breathe again. How liberating.

"Now stop screaming, or I will put it back in."

He had considered screaming again, but being able to breathe was too good to dare doing that now. Well, that and the fact that the knife was being brought awfully close to his face, which meant every sound he made could end in getting stabbed. Actually, that could happen either way.

He felt the cold metal against his warm lips just a second before the pain, and even though he should fight back, try to get out of this, all he did was stare. At the blood dripping into his lap, back up to Vanitas who looked rather pained than pleasured, before stopping when he had cut down half-way to Ventus's chin.

He was starting to feel sick, the heat on his mouth, the fact that he was bleeding rather heavily from how deep the cut actually was, everything made him want to double over and give in to the end, but what he did was find himself say something so weird that he would probably deny it if he ever woke up again.

"I thought...we were...friends."

There was no laugh, no mocking. Nothing before he felt a numbing pain somewhere on his head, or maybe his neck, maybe his back, he wouldn't be able to tell, and felt everything go black.