#chainedfool

"Feel free to tell me why the hell I should at any time."

                                                    ( in fontaine's eyes, he was nothing but ungrateful.                                                         half-spliced up and a fucking brat. and yet, there's                                                        more disbelief and disappointment than loathing. )

        " jack    ya damn ungrateful child. 've given y'    " he grips at his side and wheezes, hip leaning heavily against his messy desk. " given y' everythin', 'nd y' fuckin'... try t' kill me! who    who the fuck is goin' to appreciate 'nd love ya more than i do!? no one! no one loves freaks, ya fuckin' hear!? " he shouts in rage, and though his voice is shaky and his breath is staggered, he knows the words will strike jack. even with all that ADAM in his system, being called a freak was still a sore spot for him. he growls through his teeth and pulls out his pistol, not even hesitating to shoot jack on his right thigh. 

    Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

   For some reason, the only noise to break the silence was the sound of a clock ticking, it was threatening, as if it were preparing a bomb. He couldn't see, as if there was a blindfold wrapped around his head, so thin and soft that the air still stroked his pale skin, his own breathing nearly non-existent in the moment.

  He could feel something brush against his knuckles, hands carefully having turned into a pose much alike an open fist, signifying his surrender to it all, and his exhaustion overwhelming. Whatever it was he felt--- it was.. warm, soft, even if there was a certain amount of tension. The entire room was humid, and he had no idea how he came in. Without thinking, he attempted to move--- which was followed by a sharp pain in flesh by his neck and all over his back, a sudden feeling of exposure and danger rising. This wasn't his bed. This wasn't anything he was familiar with. The way he was sat was numbing, and yet at the same time he had never before felt this much pain. Tears welled up in the corner of his eyes, and he tried to grasp the first item he could reach for some support or stress relief--- and that wasn't without consequence.

  A low growl echoed through the chamber, it intimating-- no, frightening him, and it's location was placed right in front of him. He froze. He knew that voice. But it couldn't be. Had he.. done something? What had turned him to be like this?

  And hen it hit him.

    .... He'd failed, hadn't he?

   Jack was a monster now. All because of him.

  Suddenly his entire body started trembling, unable to control the overwhelming emotions that chaotically gathered within his heart so spontaneously. He tried to look, to distinguish the other male from the darkness, to be able to confirm if his suspicions were right. But it was difficult and he was tired. It was impossible to see the difference between the shades on Jack's body and those surrounding the room--- so he had to try and find him in another way. By touch.

  A single hand placed itself directly in front of himself, meeting the warm texture again, and immediately he noticed it wasn't without movement. Sliding up, he could much feel a curve, irregular patterns present; this was skin. This was a nude body. This had to be Jack. The distance between the two wasn't all too great, but he doubted coming closer. He had no idea what he could do.

   But he'd risk it.

  Settling his hands on the floor in front, he crawled with caution towards the other male, stopping when his hands met the familiar feeling of skin, placing themselves on top what appeared to be two knees. Another low growl came from the other. "It's okay-- its just me. I ain't gonna hurt ye.", he spoke softly, apparently it helping Jack calm down somewhat. He was relieved, he didn't feel like dying just yet. He allowed his fingers to trace all over his body, from knees to leg, from legs to chest, from chest to neck.. and carefully wrapped his arms around that very spot, pulling himself closer to his body. There was protest, no, he simply sat there, and it worried him. Settling on top of his lap, he made sure none of this was uncomfortable, but he definitely did not see the movement from Jack coming; suddenly, he wrapped an arm around his back and dug the other hand in his hair, pulling him even closer than he was and urging him to lean on him. This was no problem, but the way he was forced felt unnatural.

   Suddenly a sharp pain went through his entire system, and he could not help but gasp. There it was again. The pain from before. As if something cut into his flesh, trying to push them together, trying to make them into something more than they were. As if they were restricted from leaving.

   A literal forever that had so easily spilled his lips.

  He could feel a liquid spill down his back and arms, and it stung. The air filled with an iron stench, and immediately he knew what it was. Blood. Something had genuinely cut his flesh. Only then he noticed whatever material hurt him was cold, almost numbingly so, making it invisible in a way. "Jack..", he whimpered, and his desperate call out for help was met with nothing but a low, almost content growl. And suddenly jack moved. He could barely see what he was doing, but before he knew, their lips met. And again. And again. And it descended from something sweet into an almost beastly performance, where it wasn't like an exchange of kisses anymore, but an act where one would bite and the other would peck. It was rough, it hurt, it made his lips bleed, Jack's teeth so sharp they made him gasp. And no matter how much he whined, Jack didn't seem to listen. He simply acted.

  "Please---", and there Atlas was. begging for him to slow down, but Jack refused to listen. His grip on his body tightened, his long, beastly nails digging into pale skin, rupturing it and letting droplets of blood flow. Every time he attempted to stop him, Jack got rougher, and rougher, as if he had no right to disobey, no right to complain about his inability to consent. It wasn't that he didn't like it, it just came so suddenly.

  "A-Atlas."

   He froze.

    Did Jack just talk?

   In that moment, he finally pulled away, lips red of blood, it dripping down his chin, onto his lap, and he let his head rest against the other's chest as he pulled him down there---- apparently having had enough of all the previously shown roughness for now. And while he knew this wasn't the Jack he loved, it ached his heart. It ached to know that this was all there was left of him, someone filled with hatred and desire that didn't care about another person's compliance. He'd been shaped this way, and he'd shattered his positive shell. He was to blame, not Jack.

   He didn't know what hurt more.

   So he closed his eyes, and he focused on his heartbeat as thin fingers caressed his hair.

    He supposed... he deserved it.

     After all, he broke him. 

The entire room was devoured by the dark shadows of the night, not a single light turned on, the starlight the only light to chase away the shade in order to make certain parts of the room visible; he knew where to step, fortunately, despite them having been in this hotel for not all too long. He didn’t remember all that much of the previous ordeals, but he did know that Jack had for some reason lost his mind-- his anger taking over, in an explosion of emotions having convinced him jumping him and pinning him down on the floor harshly was a good idea, while all it had done was knock him out and leave him a wound on his head. And now, he was gone. Not without a trace, of course, but it might still be a chore to find him.

Fingers curled around the wooden edge of the door slightly, pushing it open with a single move, it causing the hallway in which he stood to be illuminated by the open window in the bedroom. The bright lights from outside made it more difficult to identify items in the room, the extreme contrast plainly disturbing his sight, so he attempted to focus more on his hearing. Distant sounds of cars and groups of people partying were obvious, it distracting him. God, where was he? He started to get anxious, walking to every wall he could reach to check for clues. If he was in the house still, there would be no real issue finding him. But if he’d ran off, he might not see him again for a really long time. And that was frightening to think about. “Jack!”, he called for him again, something much alike a faint echo sounding in the same space. No answer.

He really dealt with this in the way he never wanted to. Running off to the balcony, he held onto the rails that would separate him from a casual stroll outside and a painful fall onto the pavement beneath. Glancing over the edge, he could see nobody even resembling the boy he was looking for. A feeling of panic dawned upon him, an urge to call out like a desperate Mother raising in his chest, the faint headache that had formed after the painful blow not even noticeable anymore with the overwhelming feelings that rushed through him. Where was he, and why did he go there? What if something horrible had happened to him? What if he hated him? What if he’d returned home and locked himself up? He never knew how he’d respond to something this extreme. Atlas bit his lower lip, trying to hold back tears and fear for the worst. In his mind there was nothing but chaos, him whimpering to restrain himself, hands trembling as they finally let go of the cold rails.

“Please, Jack..” Nearly a cry of desperation and fear, the coldness of this night wrapping itself around his skin, leaving him with a sour, empty feeling in his chest; it burned, but it wasn’t a fiery burn It was an icy burn, one that stung. He felt guilty. He felt oh so guilty. For letting him go. For angering him. Even if it was indirectly, his heart ached. He lost him, didn’t he? He was a bad person, a worse lover, and perhaps even had cursed himself as well as Jack for this. He wasn’t going to forgive himself. Not for this.

Trembling fingers moved to cover his face, a silent sob coming from the younger boy, he’d severely upset himself and even though he’d tried to be so tough the phobia of being alone and having people leave him overtook his senses. He loathed this, himself, having given up about trying to conceal his emotions for the sake of the mission. In that moment he was too busy to notice two arms sliding around his waist with great care, taking ahold of him and pressing him into the other person's chest. The fabric was soft and the hug comforting, leading to silence Atlas--- he had the urge to sleep whenever comfortable and calm enough, a real sign one knew how to help him.

  "It's okay," a hushed voice said in an utterly lovingly way, "--- I'm here."

   It was Jack.

   "Jack--- ! Where wer---" Before the young Irishman could finish his sentence, a single finger was pressed against his lips, immediately causing him to stop talking. "It-- it doesn't matter anymore, alright? I'm here. That's all that matters." It sounded as if he were out of breath, as if he'd performed heavy labour or had to run. Atlas usually would've questioned him further, but he was too relieved to inquire about the previous events again, instead pressing himself entirely against Jack's being.

   "I'm glad y' ain't hurt."

   Jack didn't answer or confirm it, only squeezed the smaller boy in his arms. Soft fingers curled into the wool fabric of Jack's shirt, them standing together in utter silence. It was comforting in a way.

   "Please don't leave like that again."

    Jack stopped for a moment, freezing as if he were a mere statue. He.. couldn't say anything without lying--- after all, he carried a secret with him. A secret that could change Atlas' view on him forever, and not necessarily in the best of ways. And if there was anything he'd rather prevent, it was having him hate him. No, if that happened, he'd never forgive himself. So he had to cover it up, even if sometimes he needed to flee, to let out that anger boiling up within his being, that ate him alive; quite literally. Otherwise.. he might hurt him.

  He smiled, digging a single hand through the smaller boy's hair, receiving an instant positive response. Taking a deep, quiet breath, he finally gained courage to attempt a promise---

   Usually he crawled onto uncomfortable matresses without expecting to be warm at all, there being no sheets left that didn’t get snitched from him if he used them—- his followers may be loyal, but they were also greedy, especially when they hadn’t had a good night’s sleep in over a week. Harsh punishment of course was in place, but that did not seem to actually stop them.

   This time however, he had risked using a thin, worn-out sheet he found earlier, it not being the best or exactly most pleasant of all, but he had little choice. He wasn’t sure how long it’d been since he’d fallen asleep, but it felt like a pretty damn long time when he woke up. Opening his eyes slightly, he couldn’t help but feel an odd sense of change, the silhouettes around him still too vague for him to properly process. Dragging his hands over his face slowly, he finally took a genuine look around, him only then noticing someone had crawled on the matress alongside with him.

   It was Jack.

   At first he wasn’t sure what to think. The poor boy must’ve felt lonely or cold or something alike and he definitely couldn’t punish him for that. Besides.. he was sort of cute when he laid there so calmly. But, if anyone else had done this there’d be major issues and him showcasing how wrong he was by doing this. By stepping over the line of what he deemed acceptable. But with Jack? How could he do such a thing to him?

   Sighing deeply, he moved to wrap his arms around the boy’s waist, pulling him closer. Nuzzling the fabric of his sweater a bit, he closed his eyes once again. This was calming him— and his exhaustion surfaced once again, causing him to have trouble with preventing himself from falling asleep. He liked company, especially in bed. In places like these. So, of course, he wouldn’t let go until the other demanded it, wrapping himself up almost entirely against the other’s being. He just loved feeling protected a little bit too much, but the doubt about that being alright wasn’t going to stop him.

æ - Random fact about the mun?