another short fic no one asked me for :)
B finds themselves lying on the ground, staring up at a white ceiling. everything around them is white, actually, except for the giant glass wall leading to what seems like a hallway. they get themselves on all fours, heading towards the glass.
they don’t remember how they got in here. they barely remember the last few minutes before they fell asleep. they only remember…
“A?” they ask-whisper, just loud enough to make them realize the hoarseness of their own voice. if whoever got them here also brought a little bit of water, that would have been nice… B clears their throat, hand on the glass and cocking their head to get a better look at the empty hallway. it doesn’t help much. then they try again: “A, are you there? can you hear me?”
it’s coming from their right. A has to be just on the other side of that wall. B feels their heart jumping in their chest, and almost instinctively they shuffle to the corner where the two rooms meet, closer to A’s voice.
“yes, it’s me,” B says, breathlessly. god, not being able to see A- just- “are you-” images flash in their mind. something coming back. something- that sound, there was that damn loud sound, and A’s heavy weight against them, and they look down at themselves until they spot dark red stains.
“are you alright, A?” B’s voice wavering. “I, I don’t know if i’m remembering right. didn’t something happen? before? are you-”
“I’m fine,” A says, sounding obviously-not-fine. he tries to scratch the tiredness out of his voice before answering, but it doesn’t work as well as he’d like. “what about you? are you okay?”
“I… guess so. maybe a bit dizzy, but… no, I’m good.”
that’s all he needs to know.
“you’re not, though. you’re not good, A, I can hear it. please don’t lie.”
he allows himself to close his eyes for a minute and focuses on blending out the throbbing pain in his side. he’s pressed his hands on the wound ever since he came to, and that had been hours ago. the people who caught them hadn’t been kind enough to pay a visit and check up on them yet. he is sure whatever they need them - him - for, he’ll have to be alive to do that. they can’t be far. they’re probably watching.
oh, seems like B’s memory is starting to come back. A takes a shivery breath.
“hey! hey, A, you were shot! goddamn-”
then their words surrender and instead he can feel B banging their hands against the wall behind his head. somehow it’s comforting. like, they’re really there, and he didn’t even knew whether they were alive since he woke up by himself and called for B first-thing without getting an answer for so long, and there they are, finally. not as close as he’d want them to be, obviously, but close, and alive, and… and angry.
“fine, my ass!! I said, don’t lie to me!”
“I… haven’t lied since you just said that.”
“don’t smartass me either!!”
“okay.” A props himself a few centimeters, biting his lip to keep down a pained groan when the tiniest movement tears at him. just because he won’t lie, doesn’t mean he has to let B experience the full magnitude, at least, as far as he can help it. he sighs. “okay, I’m… not exactly. fine.”
“does it hurt a lot?” B wants to kick themselves in the shin, right as the words fall out of their mouth. of course it hurts a lot. who even asks that. “I’m s-”
“I mean I can’t really… move much.” or breathe. or think. “that’s about the level of it…”
when are these idiots finally come out and start their petty little interrogation? he just wants to get it over with.
a big thud makes A flinch and open his eyes. shortly, another thud follows. A turns his head towards the glass wall, just in time for the third thud.
“… B, what are you doing.”
thud. “you think, I’m just sitting here, waiting for you to bleed out?!” thud.
he thinks about B throwing themselves against the glass wall, probably leading with their shoulder. “I’m certain this is bulletproof glass. you’ll hurt yourself.”
a lock clicks in place, but not in the hallway, and not in A’s room, and his eyes wander to his right, to the one wall with the almost invisible door frame, and how it’s not opening, while another one’s slightly squeaking, another one’s being passed through, one, two, three sets of steps, and next thing he knows he’s on his knees facing the wall as if he could see right through it, and banging his hands against it, and shouting without hearing what he’s shouting and
a loud noise - familiar - interrupts him, and then there’s a hole in the concrete, somewhere above his head.
“would you kindly shut up, A?”
a voice running through his veins like ice.
“I bet, you were already waiting for our little game here, weren’t you? now then, behave at least.”
