Continuation here.
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Terrible idea.
It was undoubtedly a terrible idea.
It has elevated from a bad idea to a terrible idea. Almost a horrible one.
The hero sat on the large fancy couch, with the villain sitting across of them, face to face.
The hero’s stomach lurched, feeling the wave of anxiety swallowing them all up, slow and crippling, their heart hammering inside their chest, fast and electrical.
“Would you like some?” the villain asked, a pleasant smile on their face, yet their eyes were dangerous. “Yes, sure.” the villain filled the white and intricate cup with tea as the hero watched, gaze intent, then they offered it to the latter.
“Thank you.” the hero took a sip. The tea was warm.
Just not warm enough to ease them the cold that went down their spine every moment, not warm enough to relax at the vicious creature sitting near them, so close.
The villain made a cup for themself and started sipping.
The hero focused their eyes on their cup, rejecting to dare and take a glimpse of the villain. It felt dangerous. Looking felt so dangerous. As if the villain would bite them, or eat them alive.
They took a glimpse, and oh the villain’s eyes were on them. They immediately looked away, goosebumps forming on their skin.
If they weren’t wearing modest clothes, their goosebumps would have been visible.
The villain continued sipping. The hero only took tiny and brief sips between a period of time as long as possible, so they could stick their eyes on the cup. To avoid facing the villain.
The villain casually tapped their foot on the ground, the cup still cradled in their grasping, cruel hands, not quite focusing on it like the hero did. The hero could feel the villain’s eyes on them, fixed, intent, refusing to look away, watching their chest rise and fall with every passing second. The thought of it sent them another shiver.
“Why aren’t you drinking your tea? Do not you like it?” the villain pressed, voice calm, face relaxed, and yet their smile broadened and their eyes lost their brightness and were left a dark pit and sinister.
The hero startled and whipped their gaze to eye the villain, who still held a smile. no - smirk. It was a smirk.
The look on the villain’s face made their breathe hitch. Their throat thickened.
“No, don’t get me wrong. I do like it, it’s very delicious. It’s just.. a little too hot.” the hero lied. They wanted to avoid eye contact, but the villain made it impossible. They didn’t know what to do with the villain’s hues piercing through them, looking them up and down, reflected twisted and hideous in those hellish eyes.
Their cradle of the cup of tea faltered.
Shaking.
The hero was shaking. Breathe quickening and trembling, stomach locking tight, an unbearable weight on their chest.
The villain noticed it. “You’re shaking.” they pressed again, not so pleasant this time. Their voice was darker, the smile vanished, eyebrows forrowed. They looked disappointed. “Am I scaring you?”
“N-no- It’s just- I..” the hero floundered. They couldn’t find the words to form the sentence. The villain wasn’t helping, not at all.
Damn, why did they assign to this mission? It was a terrible idea. They wanted to leave now, but they couldn’t. They wished they could. They wished they didn’t need to be afrightened of the villain to walk over the door and exit. They missed their home, they missed their bed, those comfortable covers and soft sheets. It was better than being in this.. this hell hole.
The villain suddenly stood up and prowled closer to the hero, sitting beside them. The hero’s heart skittered and jack-knifed inside their chest. They felt like screaming, like running, like begging. But they didn’t know if they would be able to speak. Their throat locked so tight, their voice wouldn’t be able to escape it. The proximity was dazzling. They could even smell the villain’s cologne, strong and intoxicating.
“Look at me.” the villain said.
The hero didn’t do such thing.
“Look,” the villain raised their hand and squeezed the cup on the hero’s frozen grasp, calmly removing it from place, and placed it on the table. “at me.” the villain’s tone turned rasped at the end.
The hero didn’t know how a simple three-worded order could be so dangerous and impossible to ignore. It felt like their life depended on it, as if the villain could kill them instantly if they didn’t look.
The hero automatically glanced at the villain and locked eye contact with them. The villain’s smile returned, but it didn’t match the burning fire that flickered wicked and hellish in their eyes.
The hero felt lost in those eyes. They felt like burning in hell at the sight of the flames that flashed metaphorically. They felt like falling over from a cliff to a burning pit.
“Good.” the villain’s smirk broadened, cruel even.
The hero swallowed.
“You’re scared.” the villain wet their lips, “I could see it in your eyes.”
“You’re very sure of yourself.”
“I know I am. And I was always adept at compartmentalising the emotions of others.” the villain’s voice turned velvet this time, “You’re not the first person to be scared. Ancient heroes had come before, and none of them survived the consequences I weighed for spying on me.” the villain ran a hand up the flinching hero’s hip oh so softly, touch turning to teasing fingers running up their shoulder, feather-light.
The hero instantly remembered; they were told stories by many, about the torment the victims had to endure in the villain’s lair. And no one lived long enough to survive.
The hero didn’t know what to do with the villain’s intoxicating fingers tracing the sensitive lines of their arm with such an impossible gentleness, as if the villain wasn’t a complete monstrosity warped up into a vague human form. Their throat thickened, unable to breathe properly. “What do you mean?” the hero managed.
“All those heroes who came were always caught red-handed. No single one of them managed to fool me. I must admit they were terrible at their jobs, those pathetic imbeciles. But you, darling.” mused the villain, relishing in the catch of the hero’s breathe as they giggled. “You’re different. You are the first hero to last the longest with your little game without failing. You’re the first person who almost got me tricked. If only you didn’t slip out of the line so clumsily, you would’ve won.” they lifted their hand to caress the hero’s (burning) cheek.
“I am astonished, for how adept you are. You have such interesting under-handed tactics and strategies. You’re quite smarter than I estimated. Those heroes were imbeciles, but you? You’re a genius.” they sighed, lost in thought, “If only your skills would be put to good use on the right side.”
“I’ll never be on your side.” the hero said, trying to ignore the villain’s touch. They gripped the villain’s lingering hand firmly, removing it. “I’ll never be your henchman.”
The villain giggled, a dark sort of giggle. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. I can be very artful at persuasion, just wait.” they said, “One day, you’ll be mine. And you won’t even get to own a fraction of yourself.” their smile turned maniacal.
So it was like that then.
We’ll see.
Not a prompt.
