#antis-gauge

Eyes scrunch tighter. Form deeper creases as they crinkle. He just wants sleep. Why can’t he ever sleep? Chase kicks at his sheets in frustration. watches as they fold like the bags under his distant eyes. His comment; a long, heavy groan. It drags out as he tosses to the side, begins a tug-of-war between both legs. At least it hadn’t involved tears this time.

He remains there, staring off to the side with the blankest expression a person could ever house. A sore attempt tries to recall the nightmare he’d just endured, but just like every night, it slips through his fingers.

The mattress creaks as he spins again, twists with the sheets snaked around his legs. An exasperated sigh trickles past his parted lips, escaping in the form of warm wisps that carry throughout the desolate room. He’d meant to change beds by now, switch out for something smaller. It was sad to see someone rest with the size it was. So obviously crafted for two instead of one, but here was Chase, laid out, sprawled where a lover should’ve been.

Pathetic, really.

He grabs his pillow, slips it from under his aching head and buries himself under it with a swift smack. Another groan echoes out. More of a muffle in it’s suppressed state.

He prays his resonating defeat doesn’t stir the others.

But his prayer falls short for one individual.

Marvin doesn’t even make an effort to veil himself. He sees no need to. Even when Chase’s fogged blues land on his figure leaning against the doorframe, Marvin simply looks on. Wears an expression Chase can’t place a finger on.

Maybe it’s due to the fact he isn’t adorned with his signature accessory. There’s something strangely… unsettling about him when he’s without the mask. Something about that ethereal skin. Unblemished to a fault. As pure as the white snow.

Beauty that was unnerving.

Chase breaks the silence first, after Marvin’s prompt in the form of slanted, enigmatic eyes.

“H-how long have you been standing there?”

An internal curse belittles himself for the stammer. Even more so for the coarse texture, his voice grates away with.

“Long enough.” If there’s any sort of reaction to Chase’s weary state, it’s one that’s subtle and all too easy to miss for the one coiled in bed.

Marvin’s approaching anyway, gliding in graceful strides across the carpet. Regal in all mannerisms. Chase can’t even pick up on the sound of those steps towards him, can’t feel the vibrations. No wonder his presence had gone undetected.

Chase is blunt as he feels a dip to his side. “Could’ve knocked.” Marvin, in turn, draws a smile and crosses a leg; lists by Chase. “And miss seeing that surprise on your face? Not a chance.” Cotton drifts to the slick hairs where the magician brushes them aside with a lover’s caress. The sleight of his hand earns a relaxed hum. Elicits amusement.

Gloved digits dance to his side, slither and wind around his waist. Chase arches a brow, curious to his intentions but a finger dragging up his spine has a relieved sigh fluttering off his frown. It’s with a little pressure that has Chase turning and looping arms around the magician. “Tired, aren’t you?” Another slide against his back draws a confession of sleepless nights. Marvin smiles, scoops the male closer to rest his chin atop that tufts of brown.

Fingers trace small circles against the thin layer of cotton, just shy of the small of his back. Chase readjusts and Marvin looks on affectionately, soft when he sees the tilt and the blink of calming seas. “Shouldn’t you be asleep?” Ah, evasive as always. Marvin lets his hand follow the trail carved by his spine. “I had a nap earlier. Besides, knowing how restless you were would’ve kept me up.”

Chase scoffs. “Didn’t take you as one to watch people while they slept, Marv.”

“Well, you weren’t exactly asleep, were you?” He’s got him there, and Chase huffs as he pulls closer. Marvin responds with a light scratch against the nape of the neck. “But I can change that.” Of course, Marvin was aware of Chase’s hesitation with any form of magic. He was still growing accustomed to it despite knowing Marvin for several years. So when Chase shifts and mumbles with uncertainty, the feline guides his tender strokes to his head.

“Come now Chase, you know me. All I want is for you to rest. You’ve earned it, love.” Soft hums encircle Marvin as he lightly cards, not enough to force the blinds to roll down, but enough to have Chase half-lidded. “I dunno, Marv-” He’s cut off with another drag down his scalp. “Don’t you trust me?” He twists a curl around his index, once, twice then tugs at it lightly only for it to unfurl and bounce. “‘Course I do.”

“So, why not let me do this for you?” Chase teeters like a see-saw. Marvin can see it behind those ripples. Gorgeous blues that he could close with a flick of his wrist. Just a little more weight…

“Here,” Marvin raises his hand aloft, tears his other from Chase’s waist and slips the gloves off. They return without warning and Chase already melts at the new texture of contact. Delicate warmth that could mould any being. “is this better?” A nod has lips shape like crescent moons, beam with the same light as his angelic visage. “I only want to give you what you deserve, Chase.” Nails dip into the tender flesh, knead at his scalp and comb through his tousled locks. It’s almost enough to have the tired male purr. “Will you let me do this for you? Just this once.”

A beat of silence. A breath of succumbing. “Ok… just this once.” A grin spreads. “Just this once.” Marvin reassures.

Marvin isn’t expecting Chase to warm up to the idea instantly, the very fact he’s being flexible is rewarding in itself. “Close your eyes, love.” Encouragement comes with a caress to his cheek by his inviting palms, his gossamer-like digits. “There you go.” With a deliberate tone, Marvin brings forth his fingers to Chase’s temple, feather-light in his execution. It’s no the usual procession of pulling him into a trance, not when he’s already so tuckered and malleable.

With fingers aglow, they start to swirl azure and Chase begins to nod off; falling and falling with each rotation. Marvin opts for humming instead of utilising verbal phrases. Tumbles with a tune full of dulcet and lulling notes. A hypnotic lullaby, with his fingers serving as the metronome. Marvin’s indulging himself in the sight as Chase slips further and further, watches as the plasticine underneath his fingertips starts to mould.

The faintest trace of a smile conveys the sorcerer’s success. He’d promised slumber for the male, and Marvin had delivered. No nightmares nor interruptions would come to his sleeping volunteer. He was providing Chase with the well-earned sleep he’d been craving. All those nights of tossing and turning would now be replaced, renewed.

Marvin stares down, witnesses as the one in his possession falls deeper into his clutches. So peaceful. So serene. So beautiful. He’d love to preserve this image of Chase, to keep him in a state of endless relaxation. A picturesque replica from a fairy tale.

The only catch is there won’t be a prince sweeping in to rescue this damsel.

Not when a siren song and fingers tinged with violet are at play.

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“Oh my God, this is too good.” The vile thing snickered as eyes roved the screen before him. The sole source of light that barely illuminated the dark depths of the room. “They haven’t got a clue. Not a fucking clue.” His head knocked back at the release of a guttural laugh. It swam in the other’s ears, slithered through and slammed at the walls of his already broken mind.

The creature resumed scrolling. Swiping and swiping with his index finger, scanning each word and picture that glared back at him to which he responded with a deranged smile. So unlike the one they saw. Well, when he wasn’t pretending.

It grew as he devoured the sentences, engulfed the screenshots that had markings which would highlight the significant things his fans thought were of interest. It was still a miracle that he hadn’t been found.

Didn’t his precious fans care about his pitiful existence? About their precious Jack?

Obviously not.

Anti scoffed as he read one post. He tapped his chin as he donned a look of incredulity. It earned a raised brow and that was saying something. “Seems like some aren’t as stupid as they look.” Lips curled up, pulling back until the glint of his canines pierced the shadows. “This should be fun.”

“Stop.”

Instantly he cocked his head to the side, letting out a resounding crack in the process. Eyes shot like daggers at the figure in the dimness. “Well look who finally decided to wake up.”

In the blink of an eye, a scatter of pixels and a harsh grating sound brought the being into his field of view. In the next, his head was forced up by a steel grip and he swore he could feel talons sinking into the thin fabric that kept his physical self together. The groan only brought forth a glimmer of amusement that danced in neon irises, aflame with pure, unadulterated excitement. One by one, digits curled around the YouTuber’s throat, latching on like the parasite he was.

“Now… what was that?” His grasp tightened and Jack knew in a matter of seconds he’d be constricted by the sick fuck. Anti could feel him begin to gulp. Could feel how his Adam’s apple began to bob. An indicator of fear.

He clutched firmer, lodging the Irishman’s throat and grinned widely when he heard the sound of a choke emerge. “Go on. Tell me.” He was squeezing, squeezing the life out of the poor sap, strangling him until hands would leap up to prise his forearm off. A sign that the lack of oxygen had led to his breaking point.

Originally he had lasted for minutes, but Anti could hold his ground, could crush his neck for hours on end. But now? Jack lasted for mere seconds before he’d collapse. Hung limply in his wretched hands. It was so satisfying yet so disappointing.

A jangle of shackles shattered the air.

Oh how the rattle of chains was like music to his ears. His carved smile spread across, tainted with malice. Eyes fixed themselves on the poor trials, watching closely, carefully, studying each and every action from his captive. The desperation was only enhanced more by the feeling of malnourished fingers pawing weakly at his hand, not even bearing enough strength to pry away a single damned claw. How cute.

And just as the last wisp of breath began to escape his chapped lips, Anti chucked the hoisted body, cackling wildly as the ragdoll was tossed aside. He’d forgotten about lifting up the weakling in the first place, managing to do it from mere instinct, or perhaps simply by habit. This had become more or less of a daily occurrence. Recently, that was.

No one would’ve suspected the bastard to actually keep track of the time that dwindled between the two. But ever since his renowned appearance, Anti had ensured to keep a specific tab on the days, the hours, the minutes, the seconds that had passed.