Gore Grounds

After a good long while of awkward eye contact, Souad sighed and walked over to the sink. Michél didn't quite know what to say, so he just watched him, slowly and methodically, cleaning his nails. Looked like blood, mostly, but could also be dirt. It was a lot, to put it nicely, but Michél couldn't judge. Happened quickly, especially when you're worried you're bleeding out. Just odd that it hadn't bothered him until now.

"If you wear nail polish, no one knows how bad it gets."

Souad raised an eyebrow, just a little and glanced at Michél's clearly unpainted nails. Oh well.

"Can't, they'd kill me at work," he shrugged.

"Not anymore," Souad replied quietly. Michél couldn't help but laugh. They were so close to having a normal conversation. That did not help with the panic slowly rising in his chest. Oh he did not want to have to force him into that tub. But Souad seemed to sense what he was thinking about.

"I'll get in," he shrugged. "But I don't want you watching over me. Sit on the floor."

Michél blinked, confused. Souad already seemed annoyed at the hesitation. Or maybe not. It was hard to tell with his face. So, in an attempt to keep the fragile peace, he got onto the floor, legs crossed, hands already starting to fidget. Whatever as long as they could work together. Souad did not tell him to look away as he started to undress, so Michél did not. He was still wearing the same shirt, seam caked in blood. Was he a bad captor for not noticing so far? Mimi did not know.

The bandage over his leg was once again bloody, and on instinct, Michél moved closer. Souad flinched back, but stopped himself from running at the last moment. Let him remove the gauze without another complaint. There was fear in his eyes. Looking up at him, the absurdity of it all caught up to Michél again. Sure, yes, of course he would play along, Michél had beaten him just half an hour ago. Of course that made people more pliant. Hah. God, he was stupid.

Michél did not like thinking of himself as a bad person. Souad was making it so difficult. But his stitches were good.

Pulling away, he crawled back a little, trying to make him feel comfortable enough to finally get into the bathtub. Souad hesitated, but turning halfway towards the wall, took off the most rancid underwear Michél had ever seen. Maybe they could go and get some shopping done soon. Really, it did depend on Souad's mood. Lots of things were going to depend on how the next few days would work out.

But first, they had to deal with the situation at hand. The way Souad shuffled closer to the bathtub, trying to let Michél see as little as possible, he nearly looked like a girl. Sure, he clearly was shit at taking care of himself, but he still had more than enough ass to fool someone from behind. Really, all he was missing was tits. When he glanced back, before getting into the warm water, Michél suddenly felt ashamed. Yeah, maybe he should save those thoughts for later, maybe when he was alone. Souad sank deeper into the water, until Michél could only see his knees, and head sticking out.

Michél was starting to understand why he had insisted that on the whole floor thing. Right now, they were seeing eye to eye, in a way. For a good long while, there was only silence. Slowly, but surely, Souad seemed to relax, sinking deeper into the water. Michél really wanted to check on the state of the stitches, how much blood had already mixed in the water, but he tried to control himself.

"Can you be honest with me?"

Michél was surprised to hear Souad speak. Had assumed he might want to get this over with as quickly as possible. So he just nodded.

"You want me to stay... You don't know me. You want something. Just say it."

The words were slow, drawn out, like he really had to focus on it. Like it was an effort. Probably scatterbrained, maybe alogia. Maybe that would get better with time, with care, some proper nutrition and sunlight. Maybe it was permanent. Being honest about the how and why and what would be so much easier if Michél did actually know what he was dealing with. Not that he had any aversion to being a caretaker. Might even be more qualified than most.

"I- It's not always easy living with me. I get mad, I'm bad at making plans-"

"Not what I asked," Souad interrupted him, before gesturing him to move closer.

It was a little humiliating, getting closer on his knees but Souad did not stop him until he was next to him. So much for not being seen. Testing his luck, he leaned against the bathtub, resting his head on the edge but Souad did not seem bothered. Maybe because he was still waiting for a response. Whatever he might be hoping for, Michél probably couldn't provide.

"I guess I feel bad," he mumbled, unsure what else to say. "I don't have a plan, I just couldn't forgive myself if I let you go back to..."

He gestured vaguely towards the scars on Souads chest. The reply was instant - grabbing him by the hair, Souad pulled him closer, close enough that he could feel their breath on his skin: "I don't need your pity."

"Wait." That was a surprising amount of anger. "No, no, I feel bad for what I've done. Watching, paying, I told myself it's okay because you, well you clearly didn't want to die. But you do."

"I don't," the answer followed quickly. Souad let go, pushed him back, and sunk deeper into the water, until just his eyes were visible. So much for having an honest talk. But he couldn't stop here.

"I don't believe you," Michél pushed closer again. "Maybe some day I will. Not now. Until then, you stay. It's not like you've got anyone waiting out there, right?"

Sore spot. It wasn't a big change, no, but the simple fact that Souad could not look at him. Cute. So he was right about him. No one in their right mind would let family or friend sink that low. Oh but he could fix him up. Not much else to do, right? They were stuck together now. Maybe he should try and play nice.

"It's not a judgment. My parents died when I was 17," he shrugged. "And I'm unpleasant enough that no one else wanted to stick around after that too. Happens. You?"

"9. My dad. 12. My mom."

Well fuck. That sure did paint a more complete picture. Driven by a sudden bout of sympathy, Michél reached over and pushed his hair aside. Pretty face, underneath all that dirt. Young, too. Mchél was starting to suspect that he had ignored a bigger issue so far: "How old are you?"

"Old enough to fuck."

"I didn't ask that," he could already feel his face grow red. Well fuck. Michél moved back a little, trying to create some distance from another, and hopefully, that topic.

Souad sat up properly, leaned closer, making sure he could not get his way. Probably enjoyed watching him squirm. He made sure to keep eye contact, as he replied: "But you've been thinking about it."

He was right, of course. It's been crossing his mind again and again. Michél did try to ignore what he wanted to do back in Souad's flat, for his own sake. Can't help himself with any new thoughts joining in as long as he didn't act on them. Maybe some day in the future but it was entirely inappropriate for their current situation. Or maybe getting know the man would kill all attraction. Who knew. But he was starting to feel worse, the longer he lingered on it.

"You don't have to tell me, I already know your age," apparently Souad was getting impatient with his quiet embarrassment. "But 19. For the next few days. You'll be marginally less of a creep afterward."

Oh wow. Yeah. That did sound horrible. 34 year old kidnaps 19 year old. Close to something out of the barely legal category. 34 yr old jerks off to 18 year old cutting himself. Okay, worse, somehow so much worse. DIY Surgery gone wrong gone... he really had to stop thinking about it. But it was close to impossible. God, he fucked up. Something like a smile was starting to form on Souad's face. Stupid asshole probably chose him for that exact reason.

"Stalking, Pain, you got any other exciting hobbies?" It was a desperate attempt to deflect some of the shame. Didn't work as well as hoped. His eyes couldn't help but stick to Souad's skin, to the scars and bruises and-

"None, lucky you," Souad reached over, wet fingers making their way across his neck. "Don't have the energy for anything else most days."

What the fuck was he doing? Moving back, pushing him away, Michél got up and glared down at Souad, who suddenly looked oh so small again. At this point, Michél was starting to accept the fact that there would be no big display of emotion any time soon. But there was a slight shift in his eyebrows, just a hint of fear. Not comparable to their first meeting, but just like that, the anger faded again.

But letting Souad know just how easy it was to manipulate him would not be very beneficial. Can't let a quasi stranger know you were unreasonably fond of them. Michél didn't like the thought, but he kind of had to make a point. Didn't have to hit him, already did enough of that for one day. But there were other ways.

"Get up."

Easy command, but Souad just looked up at him as if he didn't understand a word. Michél waited for a moment, but unwilling to repeat himself, grabbed them by the arm and pulled them up, out of the water. It was a pitiful display, watching them struggle to regain some balance, while also trying to curl up, trying to hide whatever Michél might not have seen yet. Cute, but pointless.

He did not let go, until Souad relented and stood up straight. Head hanging low, he was avoiding Michél's gaze again. But he did seem to get where this was going. Hands hidden behind his back, letting Michél see just about everything, he was cooperative. Despite the wound doing well, skin only a little irritated, Souad still looked like a kicked dog. Michél swallowed the urge to ask for permission.

He started with the oddest scar. Wide, a little wiggly, right where a c section would be performed. Interesting choice for a man. Souad flinched when he pushed a little deeper. Sensitive. Did it hurt or tingle? Hard to tell. But it obviously had an impact on him. It would be awefully easy to see how hard he could make this for Souad, but instead, Michél chose a trail up his chest, past scars he knew too well, ones he watched being carved, to old ones barely visible on his chest.

"You could be really pretty, if you took care of yourself," his voice came out lower than expected. "Kind of like a girl, but that's not bad for a man either."

Now that finally seemed to upset Souad enough to try and cover himself again. But Michél did not like being pushed around. Refusing to move his hand, he dug his nails into Souad's skin when he tried to push him away. The sound that followed was pitiful and small, much too quiet even for someone of Souad's stature. Couldn't help but wonder what he'd need to do to make them speak up.

One arm slung around his back, Michél pulled Souad closer, close enough that he could probably do whatever he wanted with him.

"You got an issue with being called a girl?" he whispered, and watched in awe as a shiver ran down Souad's back. So cute. But the teasing was starting to make Michél uncomfortable too. He was well aware that his childhood had been unusual, and depending on how Souad grew up, and how far they were going to take this shit, this would end up closer to self harm than intended. So instead of saying another stupid thing, he let go of them.

"Sit," he turned away, to grab a bottle of shampoo, and Souad disappeared down into the water as quickly as possible. There was a pang of guilt, quickly swallowed down with the rest of his behavior he wasn't exactly proud of, soon to be completely forgotten or ignored. It was necessary, to create boundaries for their new relationship, even if it was cruel. He needed to make sure Souad understood who's in control. But Michél would be nice now. That had to count for something.

"I can do that myself," Souad wasn't even looking at him, so Michél was simply going to ignore that request. At first, it was akward, sitting on the edge of the bathtub, half hunched over a tense, unmoving bundle of limbs, who refused to lean back even a little. Whatever, it wasn't unreasonable after the way Michél had treated him. But eventually, Souad was starting to melt into his touch just a little, eyes closed, head tilted towards him. Shame he was just about done with his hair.

Hm.

Suddenly, there was a really selfish thought plaguing Michél's mind. No clue where it came from, and why. Something that might as well destroy the little trust left between them. But he knew, he know how good it could feel for just a moment. For both of them.

And a second after, the urge to vomit followed.