Am I blind?
That was the very first thought going through Ventus's mind after opening his eyes; at least he had sensed them opening up, but he could see literally nothing. Not even a single, smallest source of light.
Deciding to turn on the side was a bad idea, since his body still hadn't recovered from him sleeping on the sofa in the most uncomfortable position. Other than that, his body felt quite numb, and licking his dry lips only resulted in them burning a little. Right – the cut.
He suspected to be in his bed – it felt just as soft – but had no idea how he got here. Considering that he was alive though, he supposed he was safe for now. This was the perfect opportunity to run, wasn't it?
But trying to push himself up on the bed, he only now realized that he couldn't move his arms since they were tied to his chest.
Tied. To his chest.
As if things hadn't been terrible enough already, right?
He held back any tears, not really sure why, because he felt like he had every right to cry, but at the same time he didn't want to look pathetic.
It felt like a terrible horror movie; he was practically blind, unable to move, sore and either alone or stuck with someone who had almost killed him. Just how much worse could it get?
He tried to crawl over to the edge of the bed to at least get over to the light switch. Then, he could look for something to cut the rope open with, right? It was a good idea, especially considering that the fear was making it hard for him to think.
"Don't even think about it."
He flinched and rolled over to the other side of the bed. How quietly did this guy breathe?! He hadn't had a clue that Vanitas was here at all.
Even though it was the last thing he wanted to do, Ventus soon found himself panicking; his voice cracked when he spoke, and he stuttered.
"Please, just...just. I don't want to die yet! Whatever I did to you, don't kill me!"
He sounded pathetic, and he hated himself for it. Why would he even try to go for pity, even though he knew that there was none for him?
More than anything, he expected Vanitas to laugh at him for being so weak, but instead, he felt an incredibly cold hand touching his forehead.
"If I wanted to kill you, Ventus, I would have done that long ago."
Was that supposed to make him feel better? Because it sure as hell didn't. Yeah, it meant that he was safe for now – whatever that could be in this situation – but who really knew if Vanitas would change his mind about it? He was sick.
"Mind explaining to me why I'm tied up and hurt then? This is insanity!"
Nothing about any of this made any sense. There were times when Ventus actually felt like Vanitas didn't despise him and actually accepted him being alive...and then this happened. Out of nowhere, his tolerable attitude turned into cold ferocity.
"Don't worry, you'll understand soon enough. You don't have much of a choice, either way."
Ventus heard the sound of footsteps shortly afterwards, and they were getting quieter.
"Hey, wait a second! How am I supposed to get up and out of these...ropes?!"
"How about you find a way, smartass?"
The door opened – finally the smallest source of light, assuring Ventus that he had not yet turned blind – only for Vanitas to step out and close it again.
Ventus's mood immediately switched from scared to very angry. This arrogance would probably drive him insane very soon.
"Find a way, he says. What a splendid idea, when I can't even get up!"
Speaking hurt his dry throat, so he decided to shut up; there was no one who could listen to him anyway. He licked his lips again instinctively, regretting it because this time, it burned a lot more than before.
He fell flat on the bed again, looking up at the ceiling he couldn't even make out in the dark. This was getting better with every second, and a weird feeling in his stomach indicated the even worse: hunger.
Oh, how he hated it. Maybe Vanitas would let him out if he screamed really loudly – or well, maybe he'd just get beat up for it, but wouldn't it be worth a try either way? Any way to end this eternal darkness.
However the choice was made in his stead with the door opening a bit and the light being switched on. He closed his eyes in defense and rolled over a bit to shield himself, but also to be able to glare at Vanitas a bit better. What he brought, though, made Ventus reconsider and raise an eyebrow.
"What, now you're being nice to me again? You make no sense at all."
"I can leave if you want."
He didn't answer, as the statement was clearly rhetoric, and just waited for the unreasonably tempting looking glass of water to be handed over...before he realized he wouldn't be able to take it either way, at least not effectively.
He waited for Vanitas to sit back down on the chair that was right next to the bed, however the guy actually had the audacity to make himself comfortable on the bed, cross-legged and an eyebrow raised up to the ceiling.
With lots of effort, Ventus managed to get in the same position, still feeling weird because of his arms.
"I appreciate the water. Oh, and the bread especially, but you do see that I can't use my arms? Because, you know, you tied me up?!"
"I remember that part, yes. Be good and don't bite my finger off."
Was this guy serious about a single thing he did?
"I'm not letting you feed me. What's wrong with you, is that some sort of fetish? No, wait!"
Unsurprisingly annoyed by the aggressiveness, Vanitas had made a move to get up and leave again, so Ventus decided to play along relatively fast.
"Your way of thinking is naive," was what was probably going to be the beginning of a lecture. Great, he loved those. All these instances when Vanitas treated him like an idiot and pretended he knew oh-so-much more about the world. Ventus rolled his eyes, but still accepted the glass of water being brought to his lips. The cold glass felt good against his sore skin, and the liquid running down his throat was heavenly, but he wouldn't say anything.
"I'm not keeping you here because I think it looks funny, Ven."
"Oh? I'd be surprised if there were another reason," he bit back immediately, entirely missing the part of being called by his nickname – something he usually only shared with friends and his family.
"Well, think for a second: What would happen to you, were I to leave you here, no food, no water, nothing?"
"I'd scream really loudly until someone found me?"
"Naturally. Might be quite difficult with a taped mouth though."
Ventus sighed. Of course he knew where this was going, and his thought of Vanitas getting a kick out of having him say it out loud popped up in his head.
"If it makes you happy: I'd starve a pitiful death."
"Not bad. And now, what do we learn from that?"
He couldn't help it and rolled his eyes again, only refraining from letting his head drop back into the pillow because he was still being fed. There were no words for how much he hated being in this situation. He was being tormented, yet at the same time cared for, so while he despised Vanitas with all his heart, he still couldn't necessarily say that the guy was all bad. It was more like there had to be more to what he was doing, and he was being incredibly secretive about it.
"That I'll have to do what you want in order to live."
"I am impressed. You learn."
With that, Vanitas put the plate down and actually untied Ventus's hands. What an unbelievably liberating feeling that was.
"Thanks, I guess."
He was handed the plate and the glass of water, a little sceptical about it, but at the same time way too voracious to really care if he was being played with.
"You're going to rest a bit more now, most likely shower, and then there's a lot ahead to do."
In a twisted kind of way, Ventus enjoyed the fact that he was not being asked or demanded. Instead, his cooperation was simply being assumed as if there was absolutely no reason to doubt it. He smirked at the thought.
He watched Vanitas ditch him again, this time probably for good until Ventus decided to get up and out of his room again. The smirk vanished immediately. Even though he should be shaking with fear, find a way to get out of this, he instead felt a weird form of bliss because he was simply still alive.
Would it have been easier if Vanitas had killed him? He started to think that it would. Because now, the most prominent thought on his mind was:
I'm curious.
Curious about why he was still alive. The weird cryptic bits of information Vanitas gave him, without any of them actually making sense. The fact that he was apparently needed for something, because if he weren't, he surely would be dead by now.
He felt terrible about himself. A few hours ago – or however much time had passed – he would have given anything to get away from here. Now, though, he really wanted to understand what was going on, even if it were only to find a way to get out of it for good.
After unsuccessfully trying to fall asleep for a good two hours, Ventus decided to give up and get up. A shower sounded really good right now, so he would actually make use of that idea.
He knew that he'd get the evil stare for not catching up on some sleep – and that it'd be very obvious, considering how weak and tired he felt. But it couldn't be changed, so he didn't really bother with making something up.
Getting to the wardrobe and getting some fresh clothes was already enough of a task, however trying to get from there to the bathroom quick was even worse, even though it was the room right next to this.
He managed not to fall, however found himself cling onto the door frame in order not to fall over.
"You're a mess. You should've made use of that time to sleep."
"Aren't you hilarious. I tried, I couldn't. It might sound alien to you, but I'm still scared."
With that, he managed to slam the door shut behind himself and get the hot shower he felt he deserved so much.
Because only when he actually felt the hot water ease his muscles, he realized how tensed up he had been all this time. Sadly, his slightly sore fingers and his lips weren't all too happy with the feeling, but he didn't care much. It hurt anyway.
All of this was tempting. To stay here forever, until the piercing hot water felt like ice pickles on his skin. Until he dropped unconscious from the watery fog clouding his mind. Anything to not have to go back out and face what was ahead.
Again, though, he wanted answers. And he wouldn't get them by wasting time here, so he decided to stop when it felt best.
Now, clean, eased and in fresh clothes, he figured he would probably be able to sleep like a baby, but of course that chance was gone for now. He stepped out of the room quite sheepishly, and found himself slightly flabbergasted at seeing that the living room was back to the state before having been turned into chaos.
That itself was great, however Ventus still didn't want to go in. Sure, Vanitas hadn't been as bad in the last few hours, but that sure as hell didn't mean that he had redeemed himself in Ventus's eyes.
"Are you shy? It's not like you have a choice, so get over here."
He flinched, confused about being found out even though Vanitas had his back turned to him. That guy either had supernatural hearing abilities, or a pair of extra eyes under his mob of hair. Both possibilities sounded equally dumb, so Ventus decided to give neither of them much thought and instead made his way over to the sofa.
He decided to squeeze himself into the armrest as well as he could, however Vanitas of course decided to close the gap, needle and threat in his hands. Not very soothing to Ventus. Not at all.
"Just what are you doing with that?"
"How about fixing your chin? What else, anyway."
He still wasn't sure if he could trust that. What if it ended up being another trick? There'd been enough action today for a whole life-time, really. Then again, he found it was easier not to question Vanitas, especially when he offered something nice, so Ventus nodded and tried to relax.
"Do yourself a favor and don't move. I'm not going to be extra nice on you."
He didn't even have the time to comment on that, because the needle was already forced in his skin. It burned, it was a horrible feeling, and the only plus side was that it didn't start bleeding again right away.
"Why are you doing this?"
"I told you not to move, idiot. If the wound stays like this, who knows if you'll get an infection? You seem like someone who'd get the worst one right away."
He would've loved to say something to that, before deciding it was probably better to not push his luck twice by talking again. It was less painful as long as he didn't move, either way. And after a few minutes, it was actually already over.
"Not as bad. Figured you might scream, actually."
He narrowed his eyebrows. On one hand, he wished he could force Vanitas through the same thing – on the other, he highly doubted that the guy would even flinch at this; let alone play along.
"So, how about proper food now, and not some...I don't even know."
Ventus thought back, and remembered the bread he'd been given before. It really hadn't been bad – a bit dry and boring, but not worse than his cooking skills in any way. That, of course, didn't mean he'd complain about something proper. Still, he the reasoning behind Vanitas being nice was quite disheartening.
"Oh, so you can properly hurt me next time without me dropping unconscious?"
For a split second, Vanitas looked confused, right before smirking and raising an eyebrow.
"Don't you think it's amusing just how fast your ways of thinking change?"
What?
Ventus found himself staring at the turned-off TV. Now that he'd been asked, it was the first time he thought about it, and it was true. It was surprisingly pessimistic to assume that right away, instead of just hoping that he got lucky for once. Amusing, though? Not really. He'd rather call it unsettling.
He was being left alone again, and had no desire to follow Vanitas to wherever – the kitchen probably, he figured. Ventus's least favorite place anyway, since, really, his cooking was a disaster and the fact that he hadn't burnt anything down was a miracle in itself.
"Am I...changing?"
And if yes, why? Just what really stopped him from getting up and putting an end to all this? Shouldn't he be scared? Running? Why was the curiosity taking him over so much that he failed to think rationally?
In either case, he would've loved to see the sunlight again. How long had it been now? A day, two? He couldn't put a finger on it. When would he be able to go back to his normal life? Would he be able to go back to his normal life? This problem that had seemed rather small at first was now growing into something way bigger, because of course there was not only Vanitas, but people stalking him and stealing his stuff.
"Let me guess," he heard Vanitas say before he had fully settled down on the sofa again. "You're exploding with questions you wouldn't dare to hope getting an answer to?"
That hit the mark so disgustingly well that Ventus found himself looking away, which only got Vanitas to laugh at him evilly.
"Don't laugh at me. You'd have just as many questions if you were me. And I know I can't do anything to get answers from you, so yeah, I'm frustrated and don't expect you to explain much to me. Great situation."
"Oh."
Regardless of the sound of it, Vanitas looked as bored as always, but still pretended to be thinking about those words heavily.
"It's not like you have much of a choice anyway, but how about we turn this into...a game? Yeah, that's good. You survive, and I let you in on what's going on. That makes you cooperate faster and you get the answers you want so badly."
Considering that he really didn't feel like he had much of a choice – other than running and hoping that he'd never be found – that offer was rather tempting, even though of course he would still be cautious.
"I don't trust you even a bit, but whatever. Sure. I'm gonna cut my way through this."
"I'm sure of that, Ven."
This time, he felt the softest tingle upon hearing his nickname. Curiosity won. Where it would take him was a gamble, but he would have to face whatever there was to come.