Soft Yan Drabble to tide you all over.
Contains- prolonged captivity, reference to eds, infantilisation, very self-indulgent
“I want to go home," You repeat the words clearly as though that would be the thing to finally advocate for your release, despite the fact that they dissipate into the cold night air. He only pulls you closer. chest pressed against your back, arm over your chest, his lips against your ear.
“I know, sweet girl, I know you do,” he's taken to indulging you in this state. The two of you are more asleep than awake. In the low light of the bedroom, he can pretend that you do want him almost as much as he wants you. “You know I can't let you go? Where would you even be without me to mind you?” He scooches up closer to you until his body half covers yours. “Where would I be without you? I don't even know. I would be such a mess if I didn't have you to look after. You give me purpose in this life.”
“I shouldn't be your reason for living. Your substitute angel, you put me on a pedestal, knowing I can't fit on it. I'm going to fall off eventually, and you're going to hate me when it happens." It's suffocating the way he clings to you. You never get to be unrestricted, whether it's the padded dog crate in the corner or the chain on the headboard. He always has you where he knows you're safe and sound.
“I know, I know,” he smiles, nuzzling into you. “Silly little thing, you don't know how perfect I see you? It doesn't matter what you do; nothing will ever change the fact that I love you.”
“I want to go home” You turn to face him, tears sparkling their way down your trembling cheeks. “I want to go home and sleep alone in my own bed. I want to not spend my days caged up with blankets and plushies like a baby in a playpen. I want to drink until I'm sick and stupid and eat until I-” he presses his lips against yours, shutting off your spiral before you utter another “and”.
“It's for the best, you could barely look after yourself back then. Don't you even think that I knew all about it? About those bad habits you couldn't help indulging in? Tell me truthfully that you don't miss the taste of your fingers?” He waits for any sign before humming in a gentle disappointment. “You can't even pretend to be better than that, can't you?” He pulls back to look down at you with a smile so soft it cuts into your skin. “You're doing better with it now, but I can't let all our progress be wasted. I wouldn't be a good partner if I let you self-destruct. Clearly, I couldn't trust you alone anymore. I had to step in. You'll understand eventually that this is for the best. ”
“Fuck off,” You mumble, sniffling into his chest. There's no anger behind the words, only your own resignation “You don't get to use that against me. You're not playing fair.” Of course, he's right. Right in that sharp way, he watches you during meals, watches you closer after it, holding your hand while you focus on the locked toilet door and the heaviness within you begging for relief. The way he smiles and puts a sticker on that stupid fucking chart. A happy face for finishing all your meals, including dessert, without any hysterics, and a frowny face for the hysterics. for not finishing the plate. for when you find a way to get what you want despite the locked bathroom doors. There tend to be more frowny-faced stickers than smiley, but he's working on it. Taking what wins he can with those firm, unyielding hands.
“I'm not trying to, but I know you.” His hand trails upwards to cup your face, thumbing your wet cheek. “I know the ways you made everyone around you think you were handling it all so very well. But you were crumbling under it all, weren't you? And you were being so very mean to yourself, I had to intervene before you broke yourself to bits.” You feel the familiar burn of bile threatening to rise once more
“You should have let me.” He offers your response, no acknowledgement, just holding you against his heart as though that's the only thing keeping it functioning.
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