Worlds Apart

"Do you think I'm so deluded that I think I'm a vampire? I'm not stupid, I'm well aware that I'm vulnerable and pretty much human, asshole. Not for much longer, thankfully, but for now, I'm as frail as you are," he retorted, reluctantly allowing himself to be led. He wasn't using the bath as an excuse to get his hands freed in order to fight his way out; he genuinely wanted one. As desperate as he was to leave, there was no way he was going to overpower the other without a weapon, and once he set eyes on the bathroom, he realised that the only thing available was a bar of soap... and that wasn't going to do much damage. Being patient and lulling Eros into a false sense of security over a few days was the best way, however long it would take.

"You need to uncuff me. I also don't want you in here while I'm bathing, that's weird," he grunted, holding his wrists out expectedly. "I'm not going to force my way out. You have a gun. I told you, I'm not stupid."
 
“I’m going to stay. I won’t look if you’re so uncomfortable but I can’t have you somehow figuring how to use something to kill me,” he replied simply closing the door behind him and locking it before uncuffing the other. Taking a seat on the toilet, he carefully folded his legs and typed away at his phone.

“I figure you aren’t uncivilized enough to know how to use a tub still, yeah?” He murmured from the seat, glancing up briefly. “I’ll get you some clean clothes and wash your original ones when you’re done. Hope you don’t mind wearing a shirt from you’re oh so favorite metal bands. It’s either that or button ups and they never seemed your thing.”
 
When he learned that the other was staying, he physically cringed at the realisation that he would have to undress in front of him. He had done so plenty of times when they were younger and dating -even though he tried to forget about it now he had his new life- but it wasn't something he wanted to do right now... mostly because of how he looked.

He wasn't that ashamed of his body, no matter how thin he was. He was perfectly okay with that, considering he had it in his head that he had to accurately represent what the leader's brother had looked like. If he was thin, Nico had to be too. That was fine by him. What he did grimace at was the various bite marks across his body, both old and some as recent as a day or two ago. He wasn't supposed to be used as some walking supply of blood for his family yet, when they got drunk or simply when they were peckish, having the only human in the house being in close proximity was often too tempting to resist. They had apologised profusely and always stopped before taking too much, but the damage (physical and mental) obviously stayed with him.

Scowling when Eros settled down and locked the door, he reluctantly tugged his clothes off and eased into the bathtub once the water hit the right height for him. He could pay attention to his scars -and it was hard not to wince at how painful the hot water was when it hit the freshest marks- but he chose not to, instead inspecting his wrists from how bruised they already were after his stint in handcuffs.

"...I don't need new clothes, I'm fine with the ones I have. They remind me of my family. My sister made them for me from scratch, I'd rather wear those than your shitty band shirts."
 
“Well I guess you’ll just have to walk around naked until I get them clean. Is that what you’d prefer?” He snorted, peering up from his phone briefly. “Imagine what the mailman would think if he just saw some guy naked in handcuffs in my apartment. I imagine that would be hard to explain, huh? Nah. You don’t have to wear them that long, just until I clean up your clothes of all the blood and shit. It’s nasty, Nico,” he scolded before easing back, observing the bite marks with a deep frown.

“Jesus Christ, doesn’t that hurt?” He questioned, his first bit of horror showing through for the first time. “That’s - fucked up. That’s fucked up. Like... do you want bandaids or do you reject that too? Jeez...”
 
"Sure they hurt, but it's fine; I like them, they're sorta cool," he declared with a smug grin, even if the response was more or less automatic at this point. He had repeated those words plenty of times to reassure his family and stop them worrying about him. Even if he said something else -the truth, perhaps- he wasn't able to, being too distracted to formulate anything other than automatic replies.

It had been years since he last got in a bath with someone else in the room and, as a result, this instance brought him back to the last time he had. He was only around 7, having returned home from a soccer game muddied and bloody from a grazed knee, and his mother had fussed over him for the whole night, bathing him and making him his favourite meal. Being reminded of that time shouldn't have brought any emotion to him after the years he spent eliminating his parents from his memory, other than recalling their murders to boast about it.

Yet, for a moment or two, as he stared at the wall in a daze, he did find himself growing faintly emotional. The extent of it wasn't much -just a lip quiver and a glassiness in his eyes- but it was enough to make him think about his mother in positive terms for the first time in six years.

"...Quit fucking looking at me, you said you wouldn't look," he spat once snapping back to normality, resting his arms on the sides of the tub. "I'm telling you they're fine, I like how they look. Makes me look tough."
 
“Yeah, compared your emaciated Body it makes you much tougher,” he countered as he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees with a soft frown. “You aren’t healthy, Nico. You’re super skinny and all bit up. Listen, let me at least buy you some proper food? Like... what you’ve been eating isn’t healthy,” he commented cautiously.

“I’ll order a pizza. You gotta miss pizza, right? I mean, fuck - I remember you hating when I got pineapple on pizza, saying it was sacrilege. I still like it on pizza, though. Good sweetness on some salty pizza. How could that go wrong?” He questioned with a small smile.
 
"...When's the deprogrammer coming? I'm looking forward to meeting them," he replied, deliberately choosing to avoid answering him back, or commenting further about his appearance. If Eros thought it was insane that he was all but starving himself to replicate the leader's dead brother, then he could think that; Nico was done explaining it to him. He wasn't going to understand, so he wasn't going to waste his breath trying to make him.

"I'm impatient. I want to get this over with already. Besides, I'm curious. Nothing they can say will change how I feel, Eros. Your desperation for this to work is sickening. You spent six fucking years looking for me, rather than moving on with your life properly. It's sad, really. I can't wait to watch you break when you realise it's all been for nothing, hm?"
 
“Oh, no. I have full confidence in him,” Eros replied ominously, his eyes locking on the ceiling. “It might take a few hours, might take a week. They know what they’re doing, that’s for sure. Enjoy the time you’re here, Nico, because you aren’t staying here. They’ll be taking you somewhere else tomorrow... that is, unless you want me to call him and say you’re ready now?” He suggested with a snort.

“I’m being serious. I don’t want to do this, but if I have to make sure you’re properly cured from this insanity I will. I know you never enjoyed being yelled at, so I’m preparing you for that. I don’t know what else he plans to do.”
 
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Being possibly tied to a chair and yelled at by a complete stranger wasn't anyone's cup of tea, but he'd rather go through that than have someone constantly remind him of the past they had together. If he had to have a stranger scream at him that he was insane and that his whole belief system was ridiculous, he would. The sound of more travelling wasn't comforting, not when it would take longer for his family to track him down, but it was out of his hands.

It did spur him into trying to find a way of escaping, though. He could tackle Eros and make a run for it, but he knew he'd only get caught if he attempted it, and then it would only take longer to convince them he was okay. Playing the long game was horrible, but it seemed the only way of guaranteeing freedom.

"...Fine. I'm over arguing. Do what you want with me," he mumbled, climbing from the tub with a great deal of effort. "Where's that clean shirt, then?"
 
He immediately handcuffed the other again, not making any attention to the other being naked as he did. He then quickly left the room, closing the door behind him. He had planned this out in his head - hell, he had planned everything’. He had years to, after all. So, with a fresh pair of underwear, some sweatpants and the aforementioned band t-shirt, he closed and locked the door behind him once again and, once again unlocking the handcuffs. “I think these will be comfortable enough, yeah?”
 
Eyeing the clothes quietly, they were nothing like the simple clothing he had come to know and love. Whether his family made him clothing or they stole items from victims, his style these days was simple - plain trousers, plain sweaters and plain tees. Nothing fashionable or even that colourful was accepted. Even though Nico had never been into his fashion, he would always adore wearing his denim jacket, with the ironed-on badges he collected from stores across town. A small part of him wanted to ask about the jacket when it entered his mind, but he held back, remembering that it hardly mattered anymore.

"They'll be big on me, you haven't got anything smaller?" He asked with a frown, his eyes rolling as he reluctantly stepped into the clothes. "They're fine, whatever. I want to get some sleep in a bed now, I'm done talking to you."
 
“You can sleep in the same room as me so I can keep an eye on you,” he decided, unable to smile at the sight of his former cheerful and colorful boyfriend wearing his all black clothing. Of course, he’d find it even funnier in better circumstances.

“You gotta admit, those sweatpants are pretty comfortable,” he commented before moving to tighten the string around the waist to keep from having the pants slip down. “Bought them on sale at Walmart a few years ago and they’re my favorite pair. Do you want to eat something first?”
 
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The closeness was something he was normally uncomfortable with, given how much he disliked the other at the moment. He had, however, been wishing for him to lean in close so he could land him some damage, whether it be from a kick or a headbutt. However, he chose to do neither when Eros leaned in to tighten the sweatpants for him, instead watching him with a neutral, flat expression. He could have hurt him, but it wouldn't have helped his cause much. Besides, it didn't occur to him to lash out, even if he would curse himself later on for wasting such a valuable opportunity.

"...I won't be eating anything until I get back to my family, I thought that was obvious," he drawled, his voice equally flat and lacking the anger he had spoken with for the past few hours. It wasn't just because he was exhausted, though that was a big part of it. It was also because he wasn't able to be angry constantly; it just wasn't possible for him. Shutting down emotionally at least prevented him from exhausting himself out further. "I'm tired, not hungry."
 
“You’re going to get more tiered the less you eat,” he reminded as he led the other to the bed. Luckily for Nico, it was a Queen - large enough to keep a good distance between the two. He was respectful enough to know that the other wouldn’t enjoy a nice spooning, and he also knew that he was at higher chance of being killed. Instead, he set a good pile of books between them, stacking them high. If he tried to reach for him, the books would fall and he’d wake up.

“Get comfortable, then,” he insisted, leaning on his own bed with a tired yawn. He didn’t even need to change, driving through the entire night was exhausting enough. He had locked the door neatly before he went to the bed. “It’ll be like the old times when we would have sleep overs. Wouldn’t want your friends to interrupt it.”
 
Only peering over to make note of where the key was placed, Nico forced himself to stay in bed and not make a grab for it now. It would make life far more difficult for himself if he made an escape now whilst the other was awake to tackle him. He was thankful the handcuffs weren't on him, and he wasn't going to make a move that would only end up with him being restrained. He had no intention of harming Eros anyway-- not because he didn't want to, but because it would waste time and he knew he'd end up being overpowered anyway.

But he did have every intention of making an escape, which, two hours later, he finally attempted. Moving incredibly slowly to avoid toppling the stack of books, Nico somehow managed to get out of bed and stealthily take the key, enabling him to leave the room at the dead of night. What he assumed would follow was an escape out the front door and into Eros' car to drive somewhere his family could safely collect him. That was the plan, but it didn't entirely go that way.

Instead, in his tiredness, Nico grew distracted. Being stood in the living room with the TV opposite him was tempting; too tempting to resist, given what followed next was hours upon hours of watching old Judge Judy repeats and, as the hours drew on, the shopping channels. Instead of making his exit, Nico ended up sat on the couch until 7am, a blanket around himself and his eyes locked on the screen in front of him. He didn't even really realise how long he had been sat there, nor did he remember when he had raided the kitchen for food, the only recognition that he did being the empty bowls that once contained chicken noodles and the empty Oreo packets beside him. Even when that recognition came, he was too absorbed in watching some old soap unfolding on the TV to care. After years of resisting from indulging in technology, he felt a little entitled to treat himself with a few hours. It didn't mean he had abandoned his cult's beliefs. It just meant that he was prone to temptation like everyone else on the planet, including his family - if they weren't prone to temptation, they wouldn't have fed from him and scarred him like they did.
 
The initial response to seeing Nico gone was to be horrified. How could he have let that little shit go?! He should have handcuffed him. He was an idiot and his plan had fallen through - years of research down the drain. Grabbing his phone, he was about to dial 911... until seeing Nico bundled up on his couch, covered in crumbs.

“Good morning,” he greeted quietly, scooping up the keys that were discarded. The scene was one part cute, another part incredibly confusing... though he wouldn’t say anything about it. “Oreos for breakfast? I mean, it’s a mood I guess. I could have made something nice for us, like French toast...”
 
"You should be thankful I didn't starve-- you should also be grateful I didn't find your credit card and used it to buy myself things from the shopping channel. They were selling watches for, like, $50. I have a brother who would have loved it," he murmured, tearing his gaze from the screen with the briefest of smiles. He had time to lament his moment of temptation, but he also decided it was a good thing. This experience would show that he wasn't entirely sucked in by the cult. He would argue differently, but he also knew his decisions hadn't shown that if he chose to stay watching TV than run for escape.

Hopefully it was a situation he could use later to his advantage. He could pretend that he was coming around and being back like the old Nico when, in reality, he still wanted to leave. In a weird way, his actions throughout the night could only come to help him later on, right?

"...I was going to make a run for it. I got distracted. I wanted to watch that Netflix thing you mentioned but I didn't know your password for the laptop, so... I dunno, I looked on TV and it sucked me in," he frowned, wiping the crumbs from his mouth. "And I was hungry. I... the leader wouldn't want me to die, so... so I had to eat something. I... guess French toast... I mean, I'm feeling kinda faint, so... he wouldn't be mad if I had some breakfast, right?"
 
“I don’t know, would he?” He questioned with a quiet snort at the idea. “He seems to be starving you as is, but whatever. I’ll cook us some French toast and eggs, if you want? I’ve also got coffee, tea, water, and juice. You have to stay hydrated and whatnot,” he reminded quietly, pushing his messy gray hair out of his face before pulling into a neat bun.

“I’m calling the deprogrammer later since you still seem so adamant on this cult. I would love to prove to you that there’s things about human society that are better than living in the woods but you’re stubborn. You’ve always been stubborn.”
 
"Yeah, good luck with that, Eros. It won't work, I can tell you now that it won't. But go for it, waste your money paying this guy to do something that won't work out," he grunted back in response, heaving himself up from the couch with a faint yawn. He never had caught a wink of sleep, despite how exhausted he had been the previous day. Staying up all night watching TV wasn't particularly healthy, but he didn't regret it too much. Nobody from his cult would find out about it and he wasn't planning on giving into temptation again - well, at least not until after breakfast.

Besides, he could defend his actions if they did find out. This was part of the plan to win Eros' trust and eventually make an escape, preferably after giving his ex-friend some payback for taking him away from his family in the first place. He had to show that he wasn't totally lost in order to make this a success, even if he also just wanted to find a meat cleaver and solve things through violence.

"...You're a really heavy sleeper. I made a ton of noise sneaking out of bed. You were really dreadful," he pointed out as he wandered to the kitchen, a smug smile forming on his lips. "I could have whacked your head in with a hammer, Eros. Don't you realise that?"
 
"... but you didn't," he reminded, his eyes locked on the pans as he tugged them out. "Look, I know you're trying to make me feel dumb and you've succeeded but you didn't kill me and here we are, sitting in my kitchen while I make you breakfast. It's sweet and oddly nuclear if you squinted really hard. Tugging out a few eggs and some bread, he glanced over at Nico with a frown.

"Well, I'm glad you enjoyed some infomercials. Even if you stole my credit card and bought some Rolex, then what? It's not like you'd be able to bring it back with you to your family or whatever, and I'd be left with a nice watch. If you stuck around, I would happily get you some nice watch and let you keep it. You seem like the type who would look good in gold," he casually admitted despite his flat tone.