bo angst,, bls anything, i crave
The rough leather of the straps were cutting into your wrists now, lessening the space between the material and your skin just a little more every time you dared struggle. Darkness sang around your body, four little stripes of light illuminating your face from the overheard lats of the grate.
It was night up there. You could see a neon sign glinting underneath the pale moon, specks of stars scattered across the blanket of blue. The gas station was quiet, and as always, empty. The man could have tied you up in the street, in broad daylight, and nobody would have known.
Bo wasn’t looking at you. His back was turned, but you could hear him rustling around with tools and whatnot. You could almost imagine the look of displeasure on his face; that expression of betrayal.
You begged that Vincent and Lester would find you. You loved Bo, you really did, but he was... Unstable. You didn’t blame him; the family records and documents that you’d secretly read had only told you so much, but you could gather that his childhood had not been ideal. His brothers wouldn’t tell you. He wouldn’t tell you.
The scars on his body spoke more words than he ever could.
You could see them now. His shirt sleeves were rolled to the elbows, and there was pink, permanently-inflamed skin looping around his wrists. They looked slightly like yours did right now, except, his was more damaged. Yours were temporary and he’d have his forever.
The man turned to you, agonisingly slowly. The rim of his cap cast a dark shadow of his face, but it wasn’t enough to obscure the look in his eyes.
He leaned against the table at the side of the room, absentmindedly flipping a screwdriver between his fingertips. He slid his nails over the steel and let out a sigh, his shoulders tensed. Despite this, he looked eerily calm. Like he’d been expecting that you’d do this to him.
“Remember...” He trailed off, gaze flickering down to watch the light bounce off the tool in his hands. You heard his foot tapping boredly against the tile. “Remember what I said, y’know... When I let ya stay? I distinctly remember layin’ down some ground rules.”
Bo pushed himself off of the side of the table and took several calculated steps towards you, his boots thrumming thickly against the flooring. He was taking his time. He knew there was a feeling of panic rising in your chest, and he knew how to fully utilise it.
This was a man that knew fear.
You swallowed thickly as he leaned over the examination chair on which you reside. He caged you in, one hand firm on the headrest beside your face and the other near your wrist, playfully twirling the head of the screwdriver gently against your leather bindings.
“What was rule one?” He asked, his tone teasing.
You didn’t dare ignore him. “Be good?” You hesitantly responded, and the man hummed softly, nodding.
“Two?” He prompted. The hand beside your head shifted, thump gently smoothing up the side of your cheek. He was being so soft with you, but you knew that was only a front. You’d upset him. He wasn’t going to let that slide.
“Talk to no one but you, Vin and Les.”
Bo nodded. He dragged a finger through your hair and had this not been a terrifying situation, you might have found comfort in it.
“Now, sweetheart,” he drawled, and you felt fear grip your spine as he leaned closer, lips an inch from yours, his eyes focused intently on yours. “What was rule three?”
You bit your lip. Bo’s stare was intense. He knew he had you here. “I-I... Bo, I didn’t mean-”
“Rule three,” he prompted, voice firmer.
You forced yourself to look away. “Don’t... Don’t leave Ambrose.”
He nodded, huffing quietly. Now you’d admitted it. “Now, darlin’. Why’d you go and do that again? Is our lil’ town not enough for ya? Am I not enough for you?”
Guilt tripping. Bo was an expert at it. You opened your mouth to explain; to tell him that you only wanted to help out Lester with his rounds, that you never intended to actually get out at the next city and... How did he even find out? What had Lester said? Your words weren’t working.
Bo had you now, and whether you’d be able to convince him that you’d never do it again was a completely different matter.
