Wasn't able to get any writing done today... might not get the opportunity to do it tomorrow either, but here's a snippet:
“So…” Cohen paused and cleared his throat, clearly unsure of himself and the situation. “‘m not gonna even pretend to know what happened, but I figured we could talk about it over some much needed comfort food? If you’re still hungry.”
The curled up figure gave a small nod; his voice cracking. “Yeah.”
Before too long, they were both sitting in yet another uncomfortable silence; Eli in the tub and Cohen on the floor with his back against the wall. They spared the occasional glance at each other over the space of a few minutes in hopes that one of them would begin talking. In the end, it was Cohen who finally spoke up first.
“Can you… I dunno… have a go at walking me through what happened?”
After nearly six years of working as a trained hitman, Cohen assumed this would be a quick and easy job. One that didn’t leave him with a traumatised twenty year old to take care of.
Content: Rescue, morally dubious caretaker, stranger caretaker, death wish, begging, death (of a semi non-important character), blood, restraints, gags, grief, [non-sexual] nudity, platonic bathing, wounds/injuries, false accusations, caretaker isn't the best but he's trying.
over 5k words... oops.
-
He hadn’t heard it at first.
The sound was barely audible, muffled by the only locked door in the cabin that separated a supposed bedroom from the living area. Though, as Cohen started to get closer, it morphed into something resembling a gagged cry.
“Shit,” Cohen mumbled, reaching out to fumble with the door as he glanced back at his most recent target’s corpse, Lucas Wade. It lay sprawled out across the carpet, staining all its surroundings crimson with each passing second. “‘nother victim of yours, hm?”
The corpse said nothing in return, its dead gaze staring directly at him as he took a few small steps back and prepared to kick the door down himself. Usually he was smart enough to bring a lock pick or two, but it was becoming apparent to him now that he hadn’t been as prepared for this job as he thought.
It had to have been an old door with how little effort it took to kick inwards. The entire cabin was, now that Cohen thought about it. Chipped wood everywhere, broken floorboards and ones that caved inwards when stepped on, and there were even several crucial doors inside the house that didn’t lock or even fully close in general. Apparently this was one of the few doors that did work just fine, considering the state of everything.
At first, it almost seemed like the room was empty. Cohen took a moment to examine the blood stains on the walls and the floor, along with the shattered glass windows and the shards now scattered across the floor. Had they escaped somehow?
And then he heard it. The same muffled cry from before, only louder this time and longer in duration. Cohen turned his attention towards the bed that sat in the corner, eyebrows furrowing the moment he realised there was a bare foot sticking out from under it.
“That a corpse under there?”
Despite the obvious gag in their mouth, he was able to make out a sarcastic, gargled ‘yes’ that made him laugh. He knelt down beside the bed frame, taking a moment to tuck his knife away inside his back pocket before resting the side of his face on the floor.
“Well, aren’t you a sorry sight?” was all he could think to say.
This had to have been Lucas’ last captive. A young adult, barely looking over the age of twenty one, wrapped in barbed wire with a ball gag stuffed in his mouth. Either Lucas had hidden him beneath the bed or he’d managed to weasel his way underneath it himself. No matter who did it, there was no way to pull him out again without causing him an intense amount of pain.
So, he begrudgingly got back onto his feet and began to drag the frame out from its spot himself, revealing a little more of the captive’s battered body with each pull. Before too long he’d pushed the entire thing into the center of the room, giving him room to both see the state of the boy’s body and to get them both out of there when the time came.
As soon as he was able to, Cohen knelt down beside the victim once more and slid one of his hands beneath his head to lift it up. However, all his movement paused right as his fingers made contact with the metal.
“You’re not gonna bite me if I undo this for you, right?”
He received a frantic head shake, followed by more tears. Satisfied with the answer, Cohen undid the buckle at the back of his head, still supporting him as best he could with his other hand, and finally tugged the ball out of his drooling mouth.
The boy let out a small sob, still restrained by the barbed wire wrapped around his torso, hips and ankles. “You- you killed him? Is he finally gone? Please- please tell me he’s gone. ‘s been so many months, you don’t understand-”
“Hey, hush. It’s all over, yeah?” Cohen offered him a tight smile as he cupped the victim’s tear-stained face in his hands. “If you give me some time to cut this wire, I’ll even let you see for yourself. Y’can spit in his eye or whatever it is you wanna do.”
“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” he babbled in between sobs, too caught up in his own relief to even notice that Cohen had begun to carefully untangle the lengthy bits of wire. It wasn’t even tied together by anything - the only thing that held it in place was the fact that each bit of barb had been pushed into his skin, preventing him from moving at all without experiencing a world of pain. “He kept pro-omising to kill me. He kept telling me that- that this was the last time I’d ever have to feel pain again ‘n’ then it would just- it’d keep on go-oing. Over ‘n’ over ‘n’ over again.”
Cohen gave him a sympathetic look. “That must have been hell for you, huh? What’s your name?”
“My- my name?” The boy paused for a moment to think about it, struggling to resist a wince as each barb of wire was individually plucked out of his skin over time. Although Cohen was attempting to make this as gentle as possible, there was absolutely no way to avoid causing him pain all together. “Elias, I think. ‘s been so- so long since anyone called me by my na-ame, you know? He- he always called me someth’n’ new every week until I- I didn’t r’lly know who I was an’more, b-but I never forgot my name. Not entirely.”
“That’s impressive. Stay still for me, yeah? Tryin’ to make this as painless as possible. Do you have any family or friends who could take you in if I took you back to the city?”
“I had my mom,” he managed to respond. Even Cohen could tell the fresh wave of tears that welled in his eyes were for her. “But she died a few months before I was taken. I ha-ave no one else.”
Shit. “Okay.” The man let out a tense sigh, attempting to create a picture in his head of the new living arrangements if he decided to take him home with him. It was beginning to seem like the most likely option. “Lemme think on it for a moment.”
“Ca-an you just kill me?” Elias begged as soon as the opportunity arose. “You- you can do that, right? I have no money to pay you with b-but- but… oh, I’m so tired of living. I just want it to be over. Please?”
Admittedly, Cohen considered the possibility. This was a young man who had no doubt been through and witnessed horrors that even he couldn’t comprehend, begging him to take his life. He understood, and in most cases, probably would have just done it.
But…
“I’ll tell you what,” he started, only pausing to set the first set of wire aside before beginning on the next one. “Let me take you home with me. I’ll make you a nice home-cooked meal, get you some clothes and tend to these wounds. You could even have a bath or a shower and wash the last of this place off you. Give it a go for, let’s say, two months. If we reach that day and you still find yourself wanting this, then I’ll do it. Promise.”
To say Elias looked devastated would have been a complete understatement. Whatever hope he had drained from his expression and he continued to cry, even louder than before.
“Ho-ow can I trust you’ll keep your promise?” he asked in between sobs. “Why can’t you just do it? I’m begging you, please! It’ll only take a minute or two!”
“I know. I know it’s selfish of me and I know there’s nothing I can do right now to make you feel better about the situation but I want you to at least have a go.”
Finally, the second piece of wire was off. This meant that Elias was able to move a little more with what little strength he had. Unsurprisingly, he used the opportunity to reach for the knife in Cohen’s back pocket, a frustrated scream emitting from the back of his throat when the man easily grabbed him by the wrist.
“What on earth was your plan there?” he shook his head, only releasing the boy’s wrist again to move himself down to his ankles. One more wire to go and he was free to move around as he pleased. “Look, I get it. I’m chronically suicidal, too, and you know what? It fucking sucks.”
“Please don’t follow that up by telling me there’s people out there who love me ‘n’ all that bullshit,” Elias mumbled as he wiped furiously at his eyes. “I’ve heard it all before ‘n’ I don’t believe it.”
Cohen snorted. “I don’t believe it, either.”
That got his attention. He slowly uncovered his eyes bit by bit, stifling another sob as he stared up at him from where he lay on the floor. “Why are you still alive, then?” he whispered hoarsely, the edge in his voice slowly replacing itself with genuine curiosity. “What is so good about this world that you decided to stay?”
“I honestly couldn’t tell you.” Cohen gave him a pursed-lipped smile and shrugged. “I don’t find joy in many things anymore - or, I guess I never really have. The only thing that’s ever made me feel like it might be worth living is making life for other people a little less sucky, hence my line of work. May not be the most morally sound way of doing things but it gets the job done.”
Elias’ eyes widened, not to Cohen’s surprise. “So- so, you kill people for a living?” he asked in disbelief. For a moment it looked as if he was going to blow up at him, but eventually the boy’s face broke out into an awe-filled grin. “That’s so fucking cool.”
A little while later, the last bit of wire finally came off. It’d taken fucking ages to get through but the look of unbridled relief on Elias’ face as he examined the open wounds that wrapped around his body was worth it, Cohen thought. He doubted he could even comprehend the amount of pain he’d been in, and would continue to be in for the next week or two at least.
“So,” he began as he stood up off the floor. Elias immediately looked up at him, his face still covered in silent tears as he expectantly waited for more words. “Do we have a deal, Elias?”
The sound of his own name caused the boy to tear up all over again, and despite his previous objections to the idea, he gave him a small nod. “Yes,” he whispered, obediently lifting his arms as soon as Cohen bent down to pick him up off the ground. “Only two months… I can do it.”
“That’s the spirit, and hey; my name is Cohen.”
“Cohen…” He let the word quietly roll off his tongue, resting his head on the man’s shoulder as the two finally left the bedroom. “I’ve been stuck in that room for weeks… ‘n’ it almost feels a little surreal that I get to finally leave. Is that-” Cohen felt him stiffen and glance over his shoulder at the dead body of his captor. “Holy shit. He’s really gone. You- you killed him.”
Cohen hummed. “Told you. Need anything before we go?”
“No.” Elias was quick to shake his head before letting it come to rest on him once more, clearly exhausted from the mere effort it took to hold his head up at all. “J’st wanna get outta here.”
Cohen’s car was hidden a little ways into the bush. The entire way, Elias clung to him like some sort of koala or sloth, desperate for any kind of contact. Although he didn’t dare say it out loud, the man was not afraid to acknowledge that the guy was absolutely covered in filth. It took a lot out of him to ignore how dirty he was becoming the longer he held onto him, and he made sure to put a towel down on the passenger’s seat of the car before setting him down, too.
“‘m sorry,” Elias whispered in reference to the fabric beneath him as soon as Cohen got into the driver’s side. “It’s been months since I last got to wash myself.”
“I can tell.” The man was quick to tilt his head and offer a crooked smile. “You don’t have to be sorry. Sometimes I’ll go several weeks without showering and I’ve got one available to me, so no need to be ashamed.”
The boy let his head come to rest against the window, his gaze still on Cohen as he weaved his way through the trees until the tires finally hit dirt. It made him feel a little uncomfortable, being watched so intently, and he made a conscious effort to focus solely on the road ahead of him rather than what was going on in the passenger’s seat.
It wasn’t until they were back on the main road less than five minutes later that Cohen allowed himself to relax completely. He took the opportunity to glance to his right, only to find Elias staring intently out the window. Thanks to his own reflection, it wasn’t hard to see the tears glistening in his eyes.
“You okay there?”
The boy sniffled. “You don’t know how long it’s been since I’ve seen the sky or- or the trees or anything even remotely resembling nature. I always took it for granted before everything that happened, but now I feel like I’ll ever get enough of it.”
Cohen couldn’t help but ask. “How long were you there for?”
“Nearly a year, I think. I- I was taken out of the house on occasions, but I always had to wear a blindfold or a bag over my head until we were at his client’s house. I assume it was so I never knew exactly where I was.”
“Forgive me for prying, but client? What did he do that warranted clients?”
The boy spoke through clenched teeth, clearly struggling to keep himself from breaking down all together again. “Clients were what he called the people who paid to have me for a certain period of time. Anywhere from fifteen minutes to several days - if they had enough money, I was theirs to abuse. The only rule was that they couldn’t kill me, and if I asked them to then they were within their right to punish me as they saw fit.”
Unable to find the right words, Cohen simply shook his head, fingers tightening around the steering wheel as the image involuntarily popped into his mind’s eye. A part of him wondered if he was doing the right thing in refusing his request to kill him then and there. He’d always been a firm believer that if someone wanted to die, it was only right that they got to make that choice, and yet the thought of giving in to Elias’ request before the guy got to experience life outside of captivity again just didn’t seem right.
Cohen had always been grateful to be living on the outskirts of the city. There were never hundreds of cars on the roads and the scenery was far better than any city had to offer. Not to mention the animals that came to visit each morning. If he woke up early enough, he could watch the sun rise and the deer grazing by the treeline opposite his house. Not a day passed by where he wasn’t happy with his current living circumstances, and he was admittedly rather excited to be showing it to someone he knew would appreciate it just as much as he did.
“I think you’ll enjoy it here,” he told him as he opened the passenger side door. Elias gave nothing but a small, tight smile, still clearly a little irritated by the fact that he was still here despite his earlier statements. Cohen was quick to scoop him up out of the car, one arm supporting his behind while the other hugged his shoulders to keep him close.
He was not surprised to feel the boy’s head come to rest on his chest almost immediately, followed by a low-sounding whine. “You must be exhausted,” he murmured in an attempt to empathise with him. “Why don’t I run you a warm bath and you can spend some time cleaning yourself while I make some food? Do you have a favourite meal?”
“...I always liked pasta, before?” Elias whispered, subconsciously fisting Cohen’s hoodie in his hands as the man struggled to unlock his front door. “If I could have anything I wanted in the world, it would be that.”
He almost looked relieved when Cohen smiled encouragingly down at him. Instead of putting him down on the couch, he made his way to the bedroom first and carefully set him down on the side closest to the door.
“I think I have some angel hair pasta that I can cook, for sure. That’s a great choice,” he praised. “What about clothing? Do you have any preferences there? I have a little bit of everything, so feel free to browse what’s available in the wardrobe while I get the water running.”
Elias nodded, though made no conscious effort to move. Instead, when Cohen came back from the bathroom a few minutes later he found that the guy had fallen asleep hugging a pillow to his chest, and a deep sigh escaped his lips as he wandered over to his wardrobe and picked out some clothes himself. He supposed Elias would be doing quite a bit of sleeping over the next few days. It was concerning to think about the last time he must have had a proper sleep without all the constant pain.
So, he waited until he had an outfit set up by the bathroom basin and a towel hung on a hook before waking the boy up again with a gentle nudge to his shoulder. It took a few tries but eventually his eyes started to flicker open, followed by a single terrified shriek that soon morphed into a sob when the man grabbed hold of his wrist to stop him from hitting anything.
“You’re okay. It’s just me,” he soothed, gently resting the guy’s hand back down on his stomach as soon as he knew it was over. “You fell asleep a few minutes ago, remember?”
Elias sniffled. “I- I guess so? You didn’t- I- I thought you were gonna… gonna hurt me. Di’nt mean t’ throw my fist at you.”
Really, it wasn’t as if he could have done much harm in the state he was in, though Cohen didn’t say that out loud. Instead, he lightly ruffled Elias’ hair a little before beginning to help him onto his feet, curious as to how he’d fare on his own. Surprisingly, between the two of them they were able to make it to the bathroom in less than a minute, and Elias gave a triumphant smile as soon as he was leaning against the sink.
“I- I’m not sure I can get in,” he admitted quietly after some time spent examining the tub. “‘n’ is the water gonna hurt?”
Much to Elias’ clear dismay, Cohen nodded. “Unfortunately, but I promise it’ll get better eventually. Your wounds - particularly the ones left from the wire - are already infected. Whether you get into the bath or not, they’ve still gotta be washed before I bandage them.”
Truthfully, Cohen had been expecting more of a fight. However, it wasn’t long before the boy warily nodded, reaching out a hand for some support.
“I know it sucks having to rely on someone so much,” Cohen said as he helped him strip out of the last piece of clothing - his underwear. They were damp and torn in multiple places, leaving them to be of little use to him now. It was not hard to see the look of embarrassment on Elias’ face as they were tossed aside to be thrown out later on, but Cohen hardly left him any time to dwell on that as he lifted him off his feet and carefully lowered him into the tub. “Give it enough time and you’ll be independent enough to do what you like.”
“I know,” he whispered defeatedly, his entire face suddenly twisting up in pain as the water began to make contact with his injuries. Cohen felt his fingers dig into his arm, sharp, uncut nails threatening to draw blood each time he held on just that bit tighter. “Hurts!”
Cohen forced himself to smile. “Yes, you’ve made that very clear. It’ll ease up soon but you gotta try and relax until then, okay?”
Although it seemed to take a while, Elias’ expressions eventually started to soften, as did the grip on Cohen’s arm. He was quick to pull his other sleeve over his hand to dab away the spots of blood that appeared when it was let go completely.
“Would you like me to give you some privacy?” he asked, his voice quieting to match the change in atmosphere in the room. “If you’re happy enough alone, I might go make a start on that meal I promised. You can call me when you’re done and I’ll be back to help you get dressed. Otherwise, I’m also happy to sit here and keep you company.”
There was a moment of hesitation before he mustered his response. “Uhm… is- is it weird that I want you to stay?”
“Not at all,” Cohen shook his head, and with a small grunt he lowered himself down onto the cool tiles beneath him before resting both his wrists on the side of the tub. As soon as they were within arm's reach of him, the boy took hold of them and started to examine each faded cut, bruise and scar he’d acquired over the years, occasionally trailing a finger along one of them to see where it ended. They were parts of Cohen that he’d always been embarrassed by, but it seemed to be nothing short of intriguing to him.
“I have hundreds of scars on my body,” he eventually whispered. “It’s kinda cool to meet someone who has them, too.”
While he had tried his best not to focus on them too much, Cohen was not oblivious to the scars that were present on Elias’ body, most of them being at least a little infected while the others had healed over a long time ago. It couldn’t have been the first time someone had used barbed wire as a way of restraining him either - there were multiple faded outlines of the same marks that were now fresh on his skin, though some of them still looked more recent than he would have liked.
“Yeah?” He couldn’t help but smile, allowing his fingers to curl around Elias’ when he gently sat his hand upon them. “I try to keep ‘em hidden most of the time. Not many people wanna look at something so conventionally ugly, and it also isn’t really good for business.”
Elias looked as though he couldn’t disagree more with his statement. It was almost amusing watching his expression morph into one of obvious disapproval, and he began to trail his fingertip along another one.
“Well, I think you’re wrong,” he absentmindedly shrugged. “Scars are only as ugly as we make them out to be. I like that they hold stories we might not even know we had with them.”
Huh. “I guess that’s one way of looking at it.”
After he reached the end, the boy looked back up at him and smiled something sad. “I don’t always like mine either. Sometimes I wish I could make them go away, but if I can’t help the fact that they’re there, then I figure it’s far more beneficial to find reasons to like them instead of finding reasons to hate them. Does that make sense? I feel like I might be rambling… just a little. Today has been so long and stressful.”
Cohen felt himself sigh. “I could not agree more.”
-
Within a few hours, the two of them had a steaming bowl of pasta each and had sat down together on the couch in Cohen’s living room. The place itself didn’t really have much to offer, but Elias seemed content enough leaning against the arm of the couch, a blanket draped over his shoulders and his entire body hunched over to try and savor as much warmth radiating from the bowl as he could.
Meanwhile, Cohen had several search bars open on his laptop, all of them with articles relating to whom he assumed was Elias’ mother. They shared the same last name - he’d been smart enough to ask him about that as he cooked dinner, and it appeared that she died a few months before he said he was kidnapped. Not to mention her nineteen year old child that all three articles said went missing not long afterwards.
But the paragraph that confused him most was the one that mentioned her murderer, who they said had supposedly gone into hiding afterwards.
“Lucas killed your mom?” he blurted before he could stop the words from spilling out. Almost immediately Elias’ entire body stiffened, fingers tightening around his half-empty bowl despite the heat still going strong. Even for him, it wasn’t hard to see that he’d hit a sore spot, and in an extremely foolish way, too.
The boy tilted his head a little in an attempt to see what was going on on the screen, his face falling even more when Cohen shut his laptop screen before he could get a proper look. “How’d you know about that?”
“I wanted to learn more about what happened.”
“...and you wanted to do that through the media rather than me?” There it was. That same look Cohen had already seen so many times just in that cabin alone. Something that resembled a mixture of anger and hurt. Except, before, he hadn’t actually done anything wrong. He wasn’t sure he could say that now. “It’s ironic, really. Nobody ever wanted to hear my side of what happened back then, either.”
Despite his inner voice telling him to just apologise, he couldn’t bring himself to do it. They were such simple words, and yet neither would come to him when he tried.
So, instead of spending several minutes trying to speak what words wouldn’t come, he slowly sat up and set his laptop down on the coffee table in an attempt to show that his attention was now all on him. “Upsetting you was not my intention, Elias,” he quietly assured him, and the sound of his own name once again had him looking up through teary brown eyes. “I didn’t realise it was so important to you.”
“Wouldn’t it be to anyone?” he asked irritably. “It was fucking horrible. All of it. I bet you missed all those articles speculating that I was the one who killed her, too.”
Cohen frowned. “People really thought that?”
“Of course they fucking did, and you wanna know why he had me in his filthy little hands soon after he killed her? I wanted to clear my name. I wanted it all to stop. I wanted to be able to step outside just once without being shunned for the things I didn’t even do.”
“So…” Cohen’s eyes squeezed shut as the realisation finally dawned on him. It made him felt sick. “You went to find him.”
“Yeah, I did.”
When his eyes finally opened again, he realised that all the anger was gone. He was no longer the picture of fury, struggling to have his own voice be heard over everyone else’s theories and speculations. Instead, he now looked absolutely heartbroken, as if any grief he should have felt at the time was finally beginning to make its way to the surface.
“Nobody gave me a chance to stand up for myself,” he whispered bitterly after a quiet minute or two. “Nobody asked how I was or- or if I was handling the death of my own fucking mother okay. Nobody fucking cared that the answer was no. I could not have been more alone, and- and eventually I decided that if I died trying to prove I was innocent, then it was probably for the best anyway.”
“...’n’ I guess I was too upset to consider all the other possible scenarios.”
Cohen forced himself to nod. A weak attempt at showing that he was still listening, even if he wasn’t responding to what was being said. Truthfully, he had no idea what to say. Everything he thought of was either only going to make it worse or a completely pointless addition to the conversation.
“I believe you” was the phrase he finally settled on. Not long afterwards Elias appeared directly beside him, his bottom lip trembling as he suspiciously examined his facial expression for any underlying lies or hints of sarcasm.
Eventually, his shoulders began to slump a little as he relaxed. “You do?” he whispered.
“Yeah.” He gave a firm nod. “Got no reason not to. Besides, I’m not really in the right position to be judging people on that sort of thing even if you had, now am I?”
Much to his relief, Elias’ face shifted into one of slight amusement. “At least the people you kill are guilty of something,” he mumbled as he tiredly pressed his forehead into Cohen’s arm. “My mother was a good person. Did nothin’ to deserve the fate she got. I miss her more and more every goddamn day.”
Albeit awkwardly, Cohen forced his arm around the boy’s shoulders and pulled him a little closer, allowing him to fully collapse against his side as he started to quietly weep all over again. “She never would’a let me do something so fucking stupid.”
All he could do was give a sad smile, gentle fingers rubbing soothing circles into his back as the tears continued to fall down Elias’ grief stricken face.
“I… I got you,” he spoke slowly. Truth be told, he was possibly going to end up simply quoting all the most common phrases of comfort from his favourite books until he calmed down if this continued. He knew nothing about looking after another person, apart from the physical aspect of it.
He wondered how the hell he was supposed to make it through two months of this without constantly messing up.
Content: Comfort, stranger caretaker, [implied] touch starvation, morally dubious caretaker, morally dubious whumpee at this point, recovery, lonely caretaker.
-
Several days passed. Eli was pleasantly surprised to find that each day went by much quicker than when he lived in that cabin. Apart from the wounds and the bruises on his skin, nothing hurt anymore. For the first time in a year, he finally felt something vaguely resembling contentment.
The only problem he ever experienced now was the feeling of boredom itching at his brain. He’d made a few different attempts at finding stuff to do - Cohen had plenty of books around the place, for instance. Though it really just looked like a weak attempt at making the house look more alive. None of the books looked as though they’d been touched in years.
Then, after all other attempts had failed him, he finally resorted to the one thing he’d wanted to do since he got here: exploring.
The cupboards and the drawers in the living room were the first to be examined. There were many of them, some with absolutely nothing inside and others with random items that held absolutely no context to them whatsoever. Little porcelain dolls, old candles that had to have been there for years, photo albums that he chose to ignore for the time being - the list of things he found was endless.
The activity itself was rather relaxing, really. At least, until he turned around partway through to find the owner of it all standing there, leaning against the back of the couch with a look of amusement on his face. Eli couldn’t tell if the expression was due to catching him red handed or the little yelp he let out upon realising, but it was humiliating either way.
“Having fun, little snoop?”
“Shut up,” Eli grumbled. “I’m bored as hell, and I don’t think you can judge me after what you did.”
The man jokingly held up his hands in defense. “Hey, I told you you’re welcome to whatever. Just don’t get upset if you find something you don’t like. Did you end up finding my stash of board games?”
Completely disregarding the second comment, Eli perked up at the mention of games and took another look around the room in an attempt to figure out which places he hadn’t yet searched. There were a few, but none of them looked big enough to hold more than one or two small games. ‘Stash’ had to mean more than that, right?
“Will you play with me?” he asked hopefully as Cohen disappeared into the hallway that led to their rooms. “I haven’t gotten to play physical games in so long. Can you believe my favourite one used to be Go Fish, of all things?”
“I can, actually. I imagine you were obnoxiously good at it, too.”
Much to his delight, Cohen had around five different games in his arms when he finally returned to the living room. He looked rather pleased with himself as he set them all down on the coffee table, and as Eli examined each one, he started to push both couches further in so they wouldn’t have to sit on the floor.
“I knew these’d come in handy someday. They’ve been collecting dust in that closet for years but I couldn’t bring myself to get rid of ‘em. See any you like?”
After some debate, Eli finally decided on Settlers Of Catan, and the two got to setting it up almost instantly while the rest of the games got pushed aside for later.
“So, how’d you get into games in the first place?” Eli asked conversationally. “I thought, at the very least, killers would be more into video games with, I dunno, violence and shooting ‘n’ all that stuff.”
It took a moment for him to realise that Cohen had stopped what he was doing to give him a dumbfounded look. Unsure of what to say, he mocked him by creating the same face.
“That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard.”
Eli raised an eyebrow. “Really? You’ve been around for nearly thirty years, you work as a goddamn hitman, and that’s the thing that tops the charts? Aren’t you supposed to have cool stories to tell, like in the movies?”
“I dunno what to tell you,” Cohen shrugged, not looking up from the board as he put everything together. Despite the fed up voice he was putting on, it was not hard to see the corners of his mouth twitching upwards as he attempted to hide his amused smile. “A lot of us are nothing like the ones you see in movies, believe it or not. I mean - I am probably the most uncool person you’re ever gonna meet. My idea of fun is sitting by my computer and watching movies while I drink tea, I’m an old man where technology is concerned, and I will not hesitate to eat from tupperware containers when there’s no clean bowls left. Does that sound like any of your favourite fictional hitmen or assassins?”
The answer was no, but Eli chose not to issue a response to that. With a small smile, he picked up his five pieces and began considering where to place them, only speaking again once they were all in their spots.
“Well, for what it’s worth; I think drinking tea and watching movies is far better than anything else you could offer me.”
“Yeah?” Cohen smiled, something he seemed to be doing more and more with every passing day. “I had no idea you were a tea drinker. Feel free to raid the pantry in the kitchen - there’s an entire section just for tea bags and other related things.”
“Thanks.” Eli smiled right back at him. “I will.”
-
Later on, Eli did in fact take Cohen up on the offer. He made two cups - one each for both of them, and quietly made his way back into the living room where the man had made himself more than comfortable on the couch after their game.
“So, can I ask you something?” he asked curiously as he sat down in the spot beside him. Cohen gave him a silent nod in response. “How often do you rescue strangers and take them in? Is this a regular occurrence or am I special?”
“First time,” he responded into his cup of tea. “Usually I take ‘em back to the city or give ‘em a lift somewhere. I’ve actually been on my own for nearly a decade now.”
Eli hummed, puckering his lips as he thought about it. “Do you ever wish you had friends?”
“No.” Cohen’s response was instant, and there was some weight to his words when he eventually decided to elaborate. “I tried that a few times back when I was younger, but as it turns out, desperation just made me an easy target to abuse. I’d take being alone for the rest of my life over having to go through that over and over again just to find someone who likes me any day.”
There was another pause as Eli considered his next words. He wasn’t really sure what to say during conversations like this. Speaking at all seemed hard enough when nothing he could have said would take away what had already happened.
Eventually, he let out a small sigh and reached out to awkwardly squeeze his shoulder, deciding that something was better than nothing. “Hey, you got me to like you, ‘n’ I never thought I’d say that to another human being again after everything that happened. Doesn’t that count for something?”
“Yeah…” Cohen turned to smile over at him, and despite how hard he was clearly trying not to, Eli could feel him leaning some of his weight into his hand. If he wasn’t such a coward he may have offered him a hug, but truth be told, he’d be lucky to never have to be close to another person again after Lucas. “I suppose it does.”
I have decided that I wanna participate in this year's @comfortember. It's going to include mostly ANB and SBAK things, but will also include a few drabbles with unknown characters:)
Below the cut is the prompt for every day and what story it'll be attached to, along with the ANB and SBAK taglist, plus a separate one that's just for this event.
Elias is a 20 year old man who was kidnapped by his captor, Lucas Wade, almost a year ago. Since then he’s been used for experiments, a way of relieving stress and a form of entertainment for anyone willing to pay enough money to spend time with him. He knows for a fact that Lucas has already made thousands of dollars off him in the eleven months he’s been stuck there.
He uses he/him pronouns, though occasionally will use it/its, too. 5’6. Has severe PTSD, anxiety and depression. Often resorts to self harm, though you’ll find that he uses an abundance of different methods, some more severe than others.
He’s far more of an extrovert than most of my other OC’s and has a strong need for socialisation, which has made his captivity all the more agonising for him. It’s always a hard choice between begging Lucas not to leave him alone again and resisting the urge to shove him out the door. He’s ashamed to admit that he’s done the former more times than he can count.
