My eyes roved after Evan when he came back and moved about the room. He wasn't exactly doing anything, but watching him with my head cocked to the side, wondering what it was he actually was doing, was still better than not having someone to watch with restless anticipation. It wasn't that I was happy to have Evan around, it was just so damn boring when he wasn't there. I wasn't used to having nothing to do. If I wasn't dodging killers and fixing gens in-Trial, I was dodging killers and generally doing my best to piss them off out of Trails. So, literally tied down, I wasn't sure what to do with myself, when Evan wasn't in the room to be watched with narrowed, suspicious eyes.
What would he do after he finished his roaming? I had the feeling I knew and it had me sitting on the edge of the bed, fingers gripping it, until the skin on my knuckles pulled white over the bones. I also had the feeling I wasn't entirely sure I knew what I would do when, if, Evan followed pattern, and that made my heart beat against my ribs, while my eyes followed him with that sharp, unwavering focus.
Evan had to notice my scrutiny long before he turned on me, and maybe that was why it came as a surprise when Evan challenged, "Thinking of something, Saboteur?"
I snarled at him, hackles raised, but the fierce light in Evan's eyes had me deflating, sinking into myself and murmuring intelligible things before I could properly show that no, I didn't have anything on my mind, certainly I didn't have Evan on my mind. It was rare Evan got that look, even in-Trial, and everyone knew to steer clear of him when he did. Maybe something had pissed him off since I'd seen him last, or maybe he'd just had enough of my shit. Either way, I hunched down into myself and took to watching him from under my lashes, as opposed to outright staring.
It wasn't long before Evan seemed satisfied with whatever he was doing and did as I expected he would all along. Sat down on the edge of the bed, took off his mask, and turned unto his side to face me. He didn't say the words, but those intensely burning eyes said it all the same, when he opened his arms.
What's it going to be, Saboteur?
Was I going to keep up with my shit, or was I going to play nice and let him cuddle me? Let him snuggle me in those massive arms and keep me from the Entity's stupid, mother-fucking cold?
Moping and annoyed with myself for being so easily cowed into submission already, I glared at him, head jerking from side to side, as my attention jumped between his face and arms. I was not just going to crawl into those waiting arms.
And Evan knew it, naturally. He grunted disdain and flipped unto his other side, posture and instantly slackening muscles saying I could do whatever I damn well wanted, I could have it my way then.
I sat there for some while longer, probably with the look of a disgruntled vulture the way I was hunched up so dejectedly, but that was my own fault, now wasn't it? Rather like this whole situation. I'd just had to go off and play with Evan's traps, and now here I was, tied to his bedpost like an idiot.
I gave the man in question the stink eye, or his back at least, then let my eyes drop to my hands. A small shudder went through me, the first prelude to the shivering that was coming. There was a light chill seeping into the room already, I could feel it breathing down my neck, for fuck's sake, and I was tired of being cold, I wanted to be warm, damn it!
And I was fairly certain, from past experience, the only warm thing in the room would shortly be Evan. Leaving me to sit dolefully, torn between my desire, my need, to show Evan I didn't need him, and the fact I was sick of being fucking cold. In this annoyed state, I took in Evan's back again. He was breathing evenly and his slow respirations told me the bigger man was asleep.
Still, I sat there a good deal longer, watching that broad back move with each inhale and exhale, just to be sure. The last thing I needed was Evan awake. I wanted Evan asleep. And when I was sure he was, I shifted unto my hands and knees, being careful to favor my injured leg. Palms sinking into the mattress, I paused like that, head held low, watching Evan for any sign he'd sensed the redistribution of weight. When the rhythm of his breathing didn't hitch and none of his muscles twitched, I crept across the expanse of bed toward him.
My whole intention was to lightly press my back to his and steal some of his body heat, then beat it before he woke up and found out what I'd done. Good plan, solid plan. About as smart a plan as it'd been to go off and fuck with some of Evan's traps to begin with.
Evan, it seemed, had been content to wait me out and was indeed sick of my bullshit. When I was a few feet from him, Evan turned to face me so fast all I could do was yelp in surprise and attempt to backpedaled and scurry away. A futile and rather pathetic effort, all things considered. Though I managed to turn myself around, I was too slow to do much else, and where could I have gone anyway? I had a bust leg and was tied to his bedpost like an animal! Evan simply reached out, said, "Come here, Saboteur," snagged me by the collar, what might as well have been the scruff of my neck, and hauled me back into his arms.
I yelped again and gave a cursory struggle, kicking and squirming, more or less to show I wasn't giving in to this willingly or quietly, but I still settled sulkily into Evan's hold quickly enough, laying how he arranged me, with our chests together, my hands up under my chin, and his arms around my shoulders. It wasn't as if I could get away, after all. I was stuck with Evan, if he had a mind to keep me like this, and all I could do against that solid strength of his was aim a displeased and resentful look up at him. Evan took it in, but only grumbled something satisfied and closed his eyes again, choosing to ignore me and leave me alone with my half-feigned indignation.
And with nothing else to do, and nowhere to go, now that I was good and truly caught and held in an inescapable cuddle, I found myself turning over my anger and desperation, while I watched Evan's face and he sank back into actual sleep. Just what the fuck was this? What did Evan want? He wasn't getting anything from this, unless you counted holding unto my grumpy ass, and I just wanted to know what the hell he wanted.
One thing about Evan, though, he never gave you anything, never allowed you an inch, unless he felt like it, and Evan didn't seem to be in the mood for explanations. He seemed to be in the mood to sleep, so eventually, I just gave it up, admitted I wasn't getting anything but a chance to sleep myself, and wiggled in his arms, looking for a more comfortable position. I ended with my head tucked into the hollow of Evan's shoulder and my fingers curled into his shirt. The beating of his heart was just there, below my fingers, and I frowned at it, so slow and steady in his sleep. I didn't know what to make of that, either, but it was warm with Evan's arms around me and that low beating beneath my fingertips lulled me down to sleep. Grumpy, aggravated sleep, but sleep. Sleep without shivering or thought of the campfire.
After that, Evan didn't let me get away with avoiding his obvious desire I sleep near him. What passed for the next two nights in the Entity's realm, the bigger man eyed me and my sullen attitude, didn't even bother opening his arms and offering, and just grabbed me and pulled me, hissing and spitting, against him.
My fussing never lasted long, though. What was the point? Beyond demonstrating to Evan I wasn't going to behave for him, what good did it do? I couldn't get away, couldn't get my way. I was… stuck.
Caught.
Trapped.
Tied down.
The epitaphs ran through my head in a never-ending ouroboros cycle over the next two featureless twists of what passed as time in the Entity's realm. Stuck. Trapped. Tied. Caught. Each imparting a portion of the weight it bore unto the mounting pressure of my depression, as I sat in an empty room, picking at a cuff I couldn't get off. Picking until the skin beneath that cuff went from roughened, to bruised, to rubbed raw, images of small animals with their legs chewed off swimming up before my eyes.
Heavy. I felt heavy and listless the third emulated night after Evan had first grabbed me and forced me to cuddle and accept his warmth. I was sitting on the edge of the bed, head down and fingers curled in the bedding, when Evan came in. I knew he would pull me over to him, as if I was nothing more than a flailing kitten, as if I was some tiny, sharp-toothed thing, whose bite he didn't fear, and I was tired. Tired in some inexpressible way.
Wearily, I eyed him, then I surprised him when he sat down, by shifting unto my hands and knees and beginning to pad my way over to him. I could tell he was surprised because Evan made a low sound and something sparked in his eyes, setting off a low, intense burning. It startled me and I stopped in my tracks, articulating a noise that might have been a whine.
Evan must have noted we were at a standstill, a kind of uneasy impasse that could tip either way at a moment's notice, and he looked away, breaking eye contact, opening his arms and grumbling, "Well, come on then, Saboteur."
I shivered lightly and turned my head, almost hung it, so Evan couldn't see my face, shamed I was actually doing this, crawling into Evan's arms and curling against his chest. But I was tired, and tired in a way that had nothing to do with being physically worn and everything to do with being confused and lonely. Both were sensations I was not used to and Evan's heartbeat was beginning to be a familiar thing, a thing I craved and pressed my ear to in order to sleep.
I didn't like it and I didn't understand, and all of it just made the desire to be held that much worse, until I allowed myself to start crying when I was sure Evan was asleep. A kind of silent, clench-jawed crying, combined with angry, sick, disgusted tears. The kind of crying you don't want people to see, and it only made it more unbearable that Evan must have heard me or felt my shoulders shaking or had never been asleep at all, and he tried to comfort me, brushing the hot tears off my face with his fingers.
Whining, I tried to jerk my head away from that soft assault, but Evan was persistent and thorough and I just couldn't take it and I lashed out with my teeth instinctually. The result was a solid bite to the meat of his hand, around his thumb. The kind of bite that was meant to send a message, the kind that sunk deep and drew more than a little blood. Almost before I realized what I'd done, what I'd done, the metallic bitterness of that blood clogged my mouth and flowed over my tongue, and I whined again because I knew I'd done a bad thing. A stupid thing. An irresponsible, dumb-ass, dangerous thing.
I'd fucking bit the man!
Evan could have shaken me off, could have ripped his hand away, could have pried my jaws open, or pummeled me until I let go. I expected the latter, anticipated his damn justified outrage taken out on my shock-paralyzed person because an Evan not hurting me was an Evan I didn't get, and I'd given him every reason to be pissed at me. Literally biting the hand that freaking fed me surely merited a reprisal, a punishment for all the trouble and hassle I'd given him. But Evan didn't do anything. Didn't move. He only grunted, arms stiffening around me in response to sudden, sharp pain, and lay there, letting me choke on his blood because I couldn't let go of his hand.
I wanted to let go the moment I realized what I'd done, wanted that fucking copper horror out of my mouth, but I was stuck, clenched so tight I couldn't move or think or react, beyond that whine in my throat. And Evan's lack of reaction only fired my brain more. It was like I could feel circuits misfiring and fizzing in there but couldn't do anything about it.
Fucking nothing made sense and I hated it and I wanted him to leave me the bloody hell alone and I didn't want him to go and I'd just fucking bitten him!
Finally, something snapped and I was able to unlock my jaw, with yet another whine because I just couldn't hack it. Any of it.
Evan took his hand away with a longsuffering sigh, let go of me, then slid out of the bed with a sound like disgust, and I just tucked myself into a ball and lay there because I was irrationally ashamed of myself and perversely horrified I'd just done that. I'd bitten Evan.
It's shouldn't have bothered me, I should have been proud, but I wasn't. I wanted to hide and there was nowhere to go. So, I just clutched the sheets in my fingers and did my best to be small, an unnoticeable thing on the bed.
Not that Evan was even there. He left for several minutes, the door clicking shut behind him. But somehow I knew he'd be back and didn't dare move until he returned. When he stood in the room again, the bigger man took me in and I shivered, curling a bit tighter into myself, almost submerging my face in my scarf. Evan had none of that, though. He sat by me and moved to clean the blood from my mouth and chin with a towel he'd brought, and I let him because I wanted it gone. Wanted that tangible and horrific reminder of what I'd done off me.
Only when he was satisfied with me did Evan let me be and turn to himself, tending to his still-bleeding hand. He cleaned the wound and bandaged it with strips of cloths wrapped around and between his thumb and index finger, to keep them from slipping off the hand. I watched him with guilt-tinged eyes, half angry with myself for having done it and half for feeling bad about it. How many fucking, god damned times had I wanted to make Evan bleed, and now that I'd done it, I hated myself for it.
It wasn't fair!
And too tangled up in my own thoughts and self-centered disgust, I was slow and too distracted to be wily or sneaky and Evan caught me watching, caught the sorry cast in my eyes, and it was impossible to take that back and I didn't even have the energy to fuss about it. He gathered me up and I let him pull me back against his chest. I couldn't help that any more than I could help I started sobbing. I just couldn't take it, any of it, and Evan just let me cry, one arm wrapped around my chest, the other hand stroking slowly through my hair, while he murmured, "Little wild thing," to me over and over, as if I really were some small animal he couldn't fault for having bitten him.
He was comforting me and it ripped ugly sobs out of my chest. There was just no expressing how fucking messed up this whole situation was. How fucking fucked it was.