#ethodubs

He wasn’t supposed to do that.

Oh.

Bdubs’s body hit the ground with a thud that echoed louder in his skull than it could have in the quiet street. The world seemed to pause with him, like the night itself was holding its breath. Etho stared at his own hand, fingers curled, knuckles aching from the blow.

He hadn’t planned this, not tonight. Not like this. But Bdubs had laughed, bright and tipsy after the reunion party, and said those words so easily: “It’s dangerous at night! I’ll walk you home!”

And that was all it took.

Etho looked down. Bdubs was crumpled on the pavement, cheek pressed against the cold concrete, breath shallow but steady. Not dead. Not broken. Just still. Just his.

He stood motionless, heart hammering, until the panic rose sharp and dizzy in his throat. He crouched and pressed trembling fingers to Bdubs’s neck. There, that pulse, steady and alive. He sagged forward, chest shaking with something like laughter, like sobbing, muffled by his mask. Relief so deep it felt like hunger.

Alive. Still his.

- “Oh, buddy,” he whispered, his voice trembling with affection and something darker. “Look what you made me do.”

It wasn’t anger. No, he wasn’t angry. He couldn’t be angry at Bdubs. He was the one who asked for this without knowing. Who else was reckless enough to offer themselves up like that? Who else trusted him so blindly?

Bdubs shouldn’t have trusted him.

Etho let his hand linger at Bdubs’s throat longer than he needed to, feeling the beat under his skin, warm and fragile. He could take it away so easily. He could snuff out that trust forever. But no, that wasn’t what this was. That wasn’t why he’d done it.

This wasn’t killing. This was keeping.

He straightened, breath coming heavy through his mask, and glanced at his house just a few steps away. The windows were dark, the curtains drawn. The doors already locked. He told himself it was habit, preparation for nothing. But standing here now, with Bdubs unconscious at his feet, it felt like the house had been waiting for this moment too.

A sanctuary. A nest. A place meant to keep something precious safe.

Because that’s what Bdubs was, wasn’t he? Precious. Too loud, too careless, too trusting. Out here he could be hurt, taken, destroyed by someone who didn’t care about him the way Etho did. Someone random. Some stranger. That would be real kidnapping.

This? This was protection.

Etho bent down, sliding his arms beneath Bdubs’s limp body. He lifted him with a grunt, surprised at how light he was, how easily he fit against his chest. Bdubs’s head lolled against his shoulder, hair brushing his jaw. He was warm, pliant, even curling faintly into the contact without meaning to. Instinct. Trust written into his bones.

Etho’s throat went tight. His eyes stung hot. He clutched him closer, tighter, as though someone might rip him away right there in the empty street.

He started walking toward the house, boots crunching on gravel, every step deliberate. Bdubs’s breath fluttered soft and warm against his neck. Etho almost closed his eyes just to feel it.

The door opened with a soft groan. He nudged it shut with his heel, and the lock clicked. That sound, the lock turning, sank into him like a lullaby. Final. Secure.

Here. Safe. His.

He didn’t take him upstairs. Didn’t take him to the couch. Those were places someone could leave from. Bdubs might wake up confused, try to go home, try to slip away. He couldn’t allow that. Not when the thought of letting him back out there made Etho’s chest seize like it was collapsing.

No, Bdubs needed to be somewhere safe. Somewhere he couldn’t be hurt. Somewhere only Etho could reach him.

The basement door was already ajar, waiting.

Etho carried him down the steps, the wood groaning faintly under their weight. The air down there was cool, still, private. The concrete floor was swept clean, the small bed in the corner made with folded blankets, neat and ready. Etho told himself it wasn’t preparation, just habit. Just neatness. But even he couldn’t swallow that lie anymore.

He laid Bdubs on the bed with care, adjusting his head so he wouldn’t ache when he woke, pulling the blanket over his body. Bdubs murmured faintly, eyes flickering under his lids, but didn’t wake.

Etho sat on the edge of the bed, staring down at him. His gloved hands trembled as he brushed a lock of hair from Bdubs’s forehead. His chest ached with something sharp, unbearable.

- “I’ll take care of you,” he whispered. “I’ll keep you safe. You don’t have to worry about anyone else anymore.”

And it was true, wasn’t it? Out there, Bdubs was careless, reckless, always laughing too loud and trusting too easily. Someone else could hurt him. Someone else could take him.

Better here. Better with him.

Etho leaned down, close enough to hear Bdubs’s breath, steady and slow. His own mask fogged with it, hot against his face. He shut his eyes, dizzy with the intimacy of it, the enormity of what he’d done.

It wasn’t wrong. It couldn’t be wrong. Not if it was him.

Because he wasn’t just anyone. He wasn’t a stranger. He was Etho. His best friend. The one who knew Bdubs better than anyone else ever could.

And now, the only one who ever would.

Bdubs woke up heavy.

His skull throbbed, dull and uneven, like his brain was sloshing against the inside of his head. His mouth was dry, tongue thick. He remembered the reunion, the drinks, laughing with Etho in the cool night air. Then… nothing.

A ceiling he didn’t recognize hung over him now. Plain, pale. Too clean. He squinted, forcing his eyes to focus. The room was simple: bed, table, four walls that looked too close together. A faint hum of air through a vent. No windows.

Where was he?

He pushed himself up onto his elbows, groaning when the world tilted sideways.

- “Etho?” His voice came out raw, uncertain.

The sound of footsteps answered. Steady, measured, coming closer. Relief eased through him like warm water, though the knot in his head stayed tight.

Etho stepped into view, masked as always, his posture calm.

- “Hey, you’re awake,” he said softly, like he’d been waiting.

Bdubs blinked at him, trying to gather thoughts that wouldn’t stick.

- “What… what happened? Where are we?”

- “You passed out,” Etho said smoothly. He crouched by the bed, hands resting loosely on his knees. “Too much to drink. I didn’t want you hurting yourself, so I brought you here.”

Here. Bdubs glanced around again, sluggish. Not a bedroom. Not a guest room. The air was cool, the floor concrete. He frowned, trying to push through the haze.

- “This… doesn’t look like your place.”

- “It’s the basement,” Etho corrected gently. “Quieter down here. Safer. You were thrashing a bit. I didn’t want you falling and hitting your head.”

His hand drifted up to the back of his skull, wincing at the sore lump he found there.

- “Felt like I already did.”

Etho tilted his head, eyes flicking over him.

- “Yeah. You stumbled outside. Hit the pavement. Lucky it wasn’t worse.”

Bdubs groaned, half-believing him. It did feel like he’d fallen. The memory was slippery, half-formed. He’d been dizzy. Laughing too much. It could’ve happened that way.

Still, his gaze wandered to the door at the top of the stairs. Multiple locks gleamed in the dim light. Too many for a basement door. His brows furrowed.

- “You really don’t want anyone breaking in, huh?”

Etho’s voice was easy, unshaken.

- “Old house. Locks break, I replace them. You know how it is.”

- “Mm.” Bdubs sank back into the bed, head spinning. That made sense. Probably. Everything still felt blurry, wrong. He tried to laugh it off. “Gotta say, though… feels a little like I’m in a dungeon or somethin’.”

- “Not a dungeon,” Etho said. His tone softened, almost affectionate. “A safe room. Just for you.”

That didn’t sit right, but Bdubs’s thoughts slipped too easily through his fingers to hold onto the unease. He closed his eyes, let out a slow breath. It was Etho. His best friend. If Etho said he was safe, he probably was. Right?

- “Can I go upstairs, then?” he mumbled, already half expecting the answer.

A pause.

- “Not yet.”

His eyes opened again. The heaviness in his chest pressed harder.

- “…Why not?”

- “You’re still dizzy,” Etho said. “If you fall again, there’s no one to catch you. Down here, I can watch you. Keep you steady.”

It was reasonable. It made sense. Didn’t it?

- “Yeah,” Bdubs muttered, turning his face toward the wall. “Yeah, okay. Just for a little while.”

Etho didn’t move away. He stayed crouched by the bed, steady, watchful. Like a guard. Like a shadow that would not leave.

And Bdubs, drunk on exhaustion and confusion, told himself that was fine. That this was still his friend. That there had to be a logical reason for everything, even if his aching head couldn’t find it.

But under it all, deep down, a sliver of fear twisted in his chest. Fear of the locks. Fear of the softness in Etho’s voice. Fear of how safe he was supposed to feel, and didn’t.

The second day blurred into the first, though the fog in his skull had thinned.

The room was warm, quiet, almost cozy. Too cozy. Etho made sure of it. There was food at every meal, hot, plated neatly, nothing from a takeout box. Bdubs’s favorite, even, down to the little things he’d never mentioned out loud, like extra butter on toast. A blanket tucked around him whenever he dozed off. Etho never left him alone for more than a few minutes.

And yet… something in his chest wouldn’t settle.

The back of his head still ached, not just sore, but wrong. Like a bruise that had bloomed deep inside his skull. He pressed a hand against it sometimes, trying to make sense of the memory gap. He remembered leaving the party. He remembered Etho’s hand on his arm, steadying him as they walked. He remembered laughing about something stupid-

Then nothing.

When he asked for his phone that morning, Etho had smiled faintly, voice too calm. “Battery died. I’ll charge it.” But the phone never came back.

That night, with the blanket still over his lap and Etho sitting across the room with a book, Bdubs couldn’t take it anymore.

- “Etho,” he started, voice catching on his dry throat.

Etho looked up instantly, attentive in that unnerving way.

- “Hm?”

- “I gotta ask you somethin’.” Bdubs rubbed the back of his skull, wincing. “You said I fell. Hit my head on the pavement.” His mouth felt clumsy. “But… I don’t remember fallin’. Not at all. I remember walkin’ with you, and then just—nothin’.”

For a moment, the only sound was the faint rustle of the book closing. Etho didn’t look surprised. If anything, he looked patient.

- “Alcohol does that,” he said, quiet and certain. “Memory gaps. You trust me, right?”

- “…Of course I trust you,” Bdubs blurted. Too fast. Too sharp. He felt his chest tighten as the words hung there, desperate, like a lifeline he had to grab onto. “You’re my best friend. But—my head. It feels like more than just a fall.”

Etho tilted his head. His eyes lingered too long, then softened.

- “Maybe,” he admitted. “Maybe I helped it along.”

Bdubs blinked.

- “…Helped what along?”

- “I couldn’t risk you wandering into traffic, or collapsing somewhere unsafe.” Etho’s tone was even, measured, not defensive at all. “I needed you to stay still. So… I made sure of it.”

The words didn’t hit right away. They sank in slow, like stones into water, pulling his stomach down with them. Bdubs let out a weak laugh, though it cracked halfway through.

- “You’re jokin’. You gotta be jokin’.”

Etho’s gaze didn’t shift. Calm. Steady.

- “Do I look like I’m joking?”

The laugh died in his throat. Bdubs’s breath stuttered, and suddenly he was aware of the locked door behind him, the grey walls, the too-perfect meals.

- “…Etho, that— that ain’t normal. You don’t just… you don’t just knock people out to keep ‘em safe.”

- “You’re alive, aren’t you?”

The bluntness hit like a slap. Bdubs stammered.

- “…Yeah, but—”

- “And you’re safe here,” Etho cut in, still calm, still gentle, as if explaining something simple. “Nothing’s going to hurt you. Not on my watch.”

Safe. Bdubs’s chest twisted. The word should’ve soothed him, it always had, coming from Etho. But here, now, with locks on the door and no way out, it felt like a chain tightening around his ribs.

He swallowed hard. His voice came out smaller than he meant.

- “When can I go home?”

The question seemed to hang in the air.

Etho closed the book carefully, laying it on the table. Then he leaned forward, forearms resting on his knees, his gaze sharp and unblinking.

- “When you finally understand,” he said.

Bdubs’s breath hitched.

- “…Understand what?”

- “That you don’t need to leave.”

The room pressed in on him. The walls seemed closer than before, the air thicker. Bdubs searched Etho’s eyes for some flicker of humor, some sign this was another one of his strange deadpan jokes. He wanted to laugh it off, wanted to believe this was just tipsy paranoia.

But there was no humor. Only quiet certainty.

- “…Etho…” His voice cracked. “This ain’t you. You wouldn’t—you wouldn’t keep me here.”

Etho tilted his head, the mask pulling slightly as he smiled beneath it.

- “Wouldn’t I?”

The chill that ran down Bdubs’s spine made him shiver under the blanket. He clenched the fabric in his fists, heart hammering in his ears. He wanted to shout, demand answers, but his throat was dry and tight, and Etho’s steady gaze pinned him in place.

So instead he whispered,

- “I’m scared.”

And Etho’s response came too fast, too smooth:

- “Good. Fear keeps you close. And close is safe.”

He didn’t know how many days it had been. Three? Four? The basement had no windows and the lights were always on or always off, depending on Etho’s mood.

At first, Bdubs had told himself it was temporary. A bad misunderstanding. Etho would calm down. He’d laugh about it. They’d laugh about it.

But the laughter never came.

The first time he tried the door, it rattled in its frame, locked from the outside.

The second time, he tried harder, shouldering it, slamming it with his hip. Nothing.

“HELP! SOMEBODY HELP ME!”

The third time, he tried screaming.

His voice shredded itself against the concrete walls. He screamed until his throat burned, until he was coughing and gagging on the taste of metal. He waited for footsteps from above, a knock, a shout. Something. Anything.

Etho came instead. Calm, at first. Always calm.

He opened the door just enough to lean against the frame, his silhouette cutting a shape into the dim light.

- “In here,” he said, his voice as flat as a blade, “nothing and no one will be able to hear you scream.”

Bdubs’s throat tightened.

- “You’re lying.”

- “Am I?” Etho’s head tilted slightly, mask shifting with his breath. “Did anyone come?”

Bdubs stared at him, trembling.

Etho stepped inside, closing the door with a soft click.

- “You’re only hurting yourself, Bdubs. Save your voice. You’ll need it later.”

He’d left after that, as quietly as he’d come.

He’d left the tray untouched, the smell of food turning his stomach. He thought, no, he hoped, Etho would notice. That he’d panic, take him to a hospital. That he wouldn’t let him die.

On the fourth day, Bdubs tried something else.

He stopped eating.

By the third day without food, Bdubs’s hands shook as he tried to stand. His head swam. His lips cracked and bled. He’d curl up on the floor, imagining the hospital room waiting for him, the nurses, the police, freedom-

But nothing happened the first day.

Or the second.

But every time he surfaced from a half-dream, Etho was still there, sitting in the chair across the room, mask pulled low, eyes fixed on him.

- “You think starving yourself will change anything?” Etho’s voice was quieter now, but colder. “I’m not going to let you die, Bdubs. I’ve kept you alive longer than anyone else ever could.”

Bdubs tried to speak, but his tongue felt thick, his voice just a rasp.

- “I… I can’t stay here…”

Etho stood. For the first time, his patience cracked. His hands twitched at his sides.

- “You will stay here,” he said, low and dangerous. “Until you stop fighting.”

Bdubs flinched, pressing himself back against the wall. He couldn’t remember the last time Etho had sounded like that, not teasing, not calm, but something sharp and hot under the words.

- “I’m not your enemy,” Etho continued, taking a step closer. “Stop making me one.”

Bdubs’s breath hitched. He wanted to cry, but the tears wouldn’t come. His body was too dry, too weak.

- “Why…” His voice cracked. “Why are you doing this?”

- “Because I’m the only one who can keep you safe,” Etho snapped, then inhaled sharply, as if pulling the anger back into himself. When he spoke again, his voice was softer, but it rang hollow. “You don’t see it yet. But you will.”

He set the food tray closer this time, crouching low, eyes glinting in the dim light.

- “Eat,” he murmured. “Or I’ll make you.”

The threat was quiet, but it landed heavier than any shout. Bdubs’s stomach twisted. He turned his face away, but the smell of food filled his nose, warm and nauseating.

When Etho left, the lock clicked again, louder than before.

Bdubs curled into himself on the floor, clutching his aching stomach, the room spinning around him. His options were thinning, dissolving like smoke. No one had heard his screams. Etho hadn’t taken him to a hospital. The walls weren’t going to open up.

He pressed his forehead to the cold concrete, trying to steady his breathing. His best friend’s voice still echoed in his head:

I’m not your enemy. Stop making me one.

And yet, even as terror pulsed in his chest, a treacherous whisper crept up the back of his mind:

If Etho wasn’t his enemy, then maybe he was right.

Maybe there really was nowhere else to go.

He started eating again on the fifth day? At least he thinks it was the fifth day.

Not because he wanted to. Not because he trusted Etho’s food, or because his fear had faded. But because the hunger gnawed too deep, the room spun too hard, and his body betrayed him. His hands shook as he pulled the tray closer, his stomach cramping at the first bite, but he forced himself through it.

Etho didn’t gloat. He didn’t tease. He just sat across the room, eyes steady, watching as if the act of eating was proof enough. Proof that Bdubs was still his.

That silence burned worse than words.

By the time the tray was empty, Bdubs felt sick with more than food. He slumped against the wall, clutching his aching stomach, eyes unfocused. He hated himself for giving in. Hated the way it must’ve looked to Etho, compliant, dependent. Exactly what he wanted.

And yet… he couldn’t ignore the warmth creeping in at the edge of the fear. Food. Water. Safety. Etho hadn’t let him die.

That thought unsettled him more than hunger ever could.

The words slipped out before he could stop them.

- “Etho.”

Etho set his book down, attentive as ever.

- “Yes, dear?”

Bdubs licked his cracked lips, trying to steady his breath.

- “I been… thinkin’. About before. Y’know… before all this.”

- “Before?” Etho tilted his head slightly, patient.

- “Yeah. Before you—” Bdubs stopped himself, swallowing. He couldn’t say kidnapped me. Not out loud. Not with Etho’s eyes fixed on him like that. “Before you brought me here.”

Etho didn’t correct him. Just waited.

- “I… I remember some stuff, Etho. Weird stuff.” His fingers twisted in the blanket, knuckles white. “Back then, when my friend—when they went missin’. You remember?”

Etho’s eyes softened.

- “Of course I do.”

Bdubs’s chest tightened.

- “You said… you said you helped. That they were takin’ advantage of me.”

- “They were.” The answer came without hesitation.

- “But—how’d you help, Etho?” Bdubs’s voice cracked. “You broke into my house. You told me that, didn’t you?”

A pause. Etho leaned back in his chair, folding his arms loosely.

- “Did I?”

- “Yes! You did. You said—” His head spun, memory slipping like sand through his fingers. “You said you got them out. That you helped them. That it was… better that way.”

Etho shrugged.

- “It was.”

The casual tone made Bdubs’s stomach lurch. He pressed on, words tumbling out too fast.

- “So the broken locks… that was you. All that time, that was you.”

Etho’s gaze flickered, just for a moment. Then he smiled faintly under the mask.

- “Funny coincidence, isn’t it?”

Bdubs’s breath caught. His throat felt tight.

- “Stop jokin’ with me, Etho! I’m bein’ serious!”

- “I’m serious too.”

- “No, you’re not! You—you can’t be.” Bdubs shoved the tray away, shaking his head. “Where are they, huh? My friend? Where’d they go?”

For a heartbeat, silence. Then Etho leaned forward, voice low, deliberate.

- “The cabin,” he said. “The one in the woods. You remember? I promised to take you there someday.”

Bdubs’s stomach flipped.

- “The cabin…?”

- “Mm.” Etho’s gaze didn’t waver. “That’s where I kept them. Safe. Away from people who’d hurt you.”

His hands shook so bad the blanket slipped to the floor.

- “Kept them… safe? They’re gone, Etho! They’re missin’!”

- “People tend to disappear when they’re surrounded by nature,” Etho replied evenly. “It’s peaceful. Disconnecting. Don’t you think?”

Bdubs stared, heart hammering so hard it hurt.

- “Where are they?” His voice cracked, rising to a shout. “Tell me the truth!”

Etho tilted his head.

- “…On the trees.”

- “…On the… trees?” Bdubs repeated.

- “Hanging,” Etho murmured, eyes glinting. “Out with the birds.”

Bdubs’s breath stopped. His chest seized, a cold wave flooding him.

- “…You didn’t.”

Etho leaned back, exhaled softly through the mask.

- “Yes, I didn’t. I was joking.”

- “Joking?” Bdubs’s voice broke. “For—Etho, take me seriously!”

- “I’ve never been more serious about anyone,” Etho replied calmly.

The room spun. Bdubs pressed his palms into his eyes, hot tears finally breaking loose, though they burned more than they soothed. He couldn’t think straight. He didn’t know what was real, what was a lie, what was meant to twist the knife.

When he lowered his hands, Etho was still watching him, unshaken.

- “Eat more tomorrow,” Etho said softly. “It’ll make the answers easier to understand.”

And then he left him there, locked in the dark with nothing but the echo of his own breaking voice.

Bdubs didn’t know what day it was anymore. Or night. Or anything in between. Time had stopped somewhere outside this basement, leaving only walls, shadows, and the soft, constant hum of silence. Sometimes Etho was near, reading, adjusting blankets, bringing food. Sometimes he disappeared for what felt like forever, and Bdubs could only sit and stare at the concrete walls, trying to anchor himself in a world that no longer made sense.

The first few times Etho left him alone, panic had eaten him alive. His stomach twisted, his throat dried, and every tiny creak of the house made his heart jump. He pressed himself to the wall, hugged his knees, and imagined everything that could go wrong, monsters in the corners, strangers breaking in, the floor opening beneath him. He counted nothing, measured nothing. Hours, minutes, seconds, they had all melted into one long, unending stretch of cold, quiet fear.

Then he remembered Etho’s words: You’re safe. Nothing will hurt you.

It sounded almost like a lie at first, but he found himself believing it in tiny moments. He began eating the food Etho had left behind, though his hands shook with hesitation. Every bite was an act of surrender. Maybe it was poisoned. Maybe Etho had put something in it. But nothing happened. He ate again. And again. Slowly, a strange warmth spread through him. His thoughts, once frantic and sharp, softened. The tight knot of panic in his chest loosened a little, then a little more.

He leaned back against the wall, letting the tray rest in his lap, and for the first time in hours, maybe days, he felt… calm.

Maybe he’s right, Bdubs thought. Maybe I really am safe.

It was dangerous how easily the thought took root. Hours passed, though he couldn’t have told you how many, and the calm deepened. He began to remember how Etho had been careful, how he hadn’t let him die when he stopped eating, how he always returned after being gone. Each small comfort piled onto the last, slowly replacing the fear that had driven him to the floor.

He tried to convince himself that the fear wasn’t real, that it wasn’t as sharp as he remembered. But it lurked at the edges of his mind, making the room feel smaller, the walls closer. Each creak of the old house made him flinch, each shadow shift made him clutch the blanket tighter. Still, he ate, because his body demanded it, and in that act he felt a fleeting sense of control, the illusion of agency that vanished the moment Etho returned.

When Etho finally did return after hours away, Bdubs felt a wave of relief so strong it made his knees weak. His stomach unclenched, his muscles relaxed, and he even smiled a little, ashamed of how foolish it felt.

-“Did you miss me?” Etho asked quietly, settling beside him.

- “A… little,” Bdubs admitted, voice low.

- “You’ll always be safe,” Etho said, calm and certain. “I’m here. I’m the one helping you. You don’t need to be afraid. Not anymore.”

Bdubs nodded slowly. The words settled over him, warm and soft, and for a moment, he believed them entirely. His body sagged against the wall in relief, his mind grasping at the fragile sense of security like a lifeline.

But the moment Etho left again, the walls crept closer. The silence pressed in, sharp as a blade. Panic returned, gnawing at the edges of his mind. He tried to tell himself he could endure it, that he could survive alone. He pressed his back against the wall, knees drawn up, heart hammering. He counted nothing, measured nothing, there was only the slow, maddening crawl of time and the emptiness around him.

Yet each time Etho returned, bringing warmth, food, and his steady, unshakable gaze, the fear ebbed once more. Bdubs’s small world contracted around the one constant: Etho. Day by day, hour by hour, Bdubs began to forget how to trust anyone else. Slowly, imperceptibly, he leaned more and more on Etho. Not because he wanted to. Not because he had a choice. But because here, in this basement, with nothing else in the world to cling to, Etho was all that remained.

Bdubs’s thoughts grew muddled. The distinction between fear and safety blurred. The lines of right and wrong wavered. When he ate, he felt grateful. When he didn’t, he felt guilty. When Etho left, his mind spiraled, searching for the faintest indication that someone, somewhere, could hear him, could help him, but there was no one. There was only Etho, and then Etho was gone, and then he returned, and the cycle continued.

And Bdubs realized, with a small, guilty pang in his chest, that maybe he didn’t want it to be any other way.

Sometimes, when he closed his eyes, he whispered to himself: I’m safe. Etho knows best. Etho helps me.

And slowly, almost without noticing, he began to believe it.

Bdubs felt strange. Everything felt strange. His thoughts were soft and thick, like they were tangled in cotton, slow and sticky, blurring together until nothing felt real. Every movement made his head spin a little. The walls seemed to breathe in and out, shadows twisting at the edges of his vision. He pressed his palms to his face, tried to think, tried to focus, but the fuzziness wouldn’t let him.

Etho hadn’t been there for what felt like forever. Hours? Days? Bdubs didn’t know. Time had lost all meaning in the basement. There were no windows, no clocks, nothing to mark the hours. Only silence, pressing in from all sides. Only the cold concrete floor under his hands and knees.

Panic rose slowly at first, curling in his stomach like a living thing. Then it tightened, sharper and hotter, climbing up to his throat. Where is he? Bdubs whispered the words aloud, voice trembling, though the sound felt strange in the emptiness. What if he’s gone? What if I’m alone? What if… I’m stuck here?

He tried to eat, tried to calm himself with the food Etho had left. But every bite felt heavy, like chewing through fog. The warmth in his stomach barely touched the cold, hollow feeling curling through his chest. He pushed the tray away and hugged his knees again, rocking slightly.

Hours stretched like weeks. Shadows moved as if alive, stretching and shrinking with no explanation. Every tiny sound, a drip of water, a distant creak of the house, made him jump. His chest tightened. He whispered to himself, over and over: I’m safe. I’m safe. I’m safe. The words tasted empty, hollow, meaningless, but he clung to them anyway.

Then he started to imagine voices, Etho’s voice, saying he was okay, that he was safe. The images blurred and faded as quickly as they came. He pressed his palms to his temples, trying to force them out of his head, but the panic only grew, the spinning in his head only worse. His thoughts were a tangle, gnawing at themselves, running in circles that led nowhere.

He tried to stand, tried to pace, tried to convince himself he could survive here alone. The concrete floor under his bare feet felt cold, grounding but not comforting. He pressed his hands against the walls, hoping for some signal, some reminder that he wasn’t invisible, some proof that the world still existed beyond the basement. Nothing came. Only silence. Only emptiness.

Hours, days, he couldn’t tell anymore. His stomach growled. He tried to eat again. The warmth made his head swim. His thoughts slowed, heavy and lethargic. Maybe he’s right, he whispered. Maybe I’m safe. Maybe… maybe he knows best. The words sounded foreign, like someone else was speaking. Still, he clung to them, because there was nothing else.

Then the panic returned. The walls felt like they were closing in. His chest ached. His arms and legs trembled. He whispered into the emptiness: Come back. Come back. Please come back. His voice sounded small, weak, barely even there, swallowed by the vast emptiness.

And then, finally, the lock clicked. The sound made his chest lurch, relief and fear colliding into a hot, heavy ball inside him. He scrambled to his feet, hands shaking, voice cracking as he called,

- “Etho?!”

Etho stepped into the basement. Calm. Steady. Eyes watching him, quiet and patient. Bdubs felt his body sag in relief, the trembling hands gripping at nothing, at the air, at the hope. When Etho knelt beside him, pulled down his mask, and pressed soft, deliberate kisses to his temples, warmth flooded through him like sunlight breaking through fog.

Bdubs clung. Clung like he’d never hold onto anything again. His tears burned hot against his cheeks.

- “You’re… you’re here,” he whispered, voice trembling. “I… I thought… I thought you left me…”

- “I’m here,” Etho murmured, holding him close. “I didn’t leave. You’re safe.”

Bdubs pressed into him, shivering, letting the panic, the confusion, the fear spill out. He didn’t know how long he stayed like that, clinging, crying softly, trembling in Etho’s arms. The warmth, the presence, the certainty, it was overwhelming. It was everything he had been craving and fearing at the same time.

And even now, as he calmed slightly, he felt the remnants of the spiral still inside him, soft and insidious. The fuzzy confusion, the guilt, the fear, they hadn’t gone. They had just softened, coiled quietly in the back of his mind, waiting for the next absence, the next long stretch of silence when he would feel it again, and only Etho’s return would soothe it.

He buried his face in Etho’s chest again, shivering lightly, letting himself be small, letting himself be fragile. He didn’t know what tomorrow would bring. He didn’t know if he could survive the hours alone. But right now, with Etho here, holding him, pressing his lips to his temples, whispering soft reassurances, he could almost, almost, forget the basement, the walls, the emptiness. Almost forget everything except the warmth, the presence, the quiet certainty that for at least this moment, he was safe.

The next few days,  or maybe they were hours, passed in a strange blur. Bdubs didn’t know anymore. He didn’t know what the outside world was like. He didn’t know what day it was, or even if it mattered. All that mattered was the basement, the food Etho left behind, and the empty, echoing silence that pressed on him whenever Etho was gone.

When Etho left, even for short periods, Bdubs’s chest tightened, his thoughts spun, and the warm, fuzzy feeling the food brought only partially calmed the growing, gnawing panic. He found himself wandering the basement, touching the walls, whispering small prayers to a friend who wasn’t there.

- “Where are you?” he murmured. “Will you be back soon?”

At first, it was just words. Then, slowly, almost imperceptibly, he began lingering near the stairwell, waiting, listening for the familiar click of the lock, the subtle creak of the steps. Sometimes he paced in circles, hands clenching at his sides, counting shadows and breaths, wishing Etho would just appear.

He started to speak to him even when he wasn’t there.

- “Etho…” he whispered one time, soft and unsure, like testing the sound. “I… I need… I don’t know… could you…?” The words stumbled over themselves. No answer came. But saying them gave him a faint sense of relief, a small tether to a reality he could almost remember.

The food helped a little. It made him dizzy, fuzzy, almost warm. His thoughts slowed, softened, and he found himself imagining Etho returning to hand him another plate, smiling, calm, unflinching. He could feel the imaginary presence of Etho in the room and lean against it for a moment, inhaling the warm, reassuring rhythm of it.

When Etho finally returned, quietly, without warning, Bdubs froze. Relief, shame, longing, and fear all tangled together inside him. He lingered just a step behind, following Etho’s movements, watching. He didn’t touch him, not yet. But he lingered. He watched Etho fold blankets, adjust the small lights, handle food. His gaze followed every motion, every small gesture, as though trying to memorize the details in case Etho left again.

- “Do… do you want help?” he asked tentatively, voice small, fragile.

Etho glanced down, calm and patient, and nodded once.

- “If you want.”

Bdubs hesitated, then moved closer. Slowly. Tentatively. His hand hovered near Etho’s arm. He didn’t touch. He just lingered. And when Etho turned fully toward him, just once, and said softly,

- “You’re here,”

Bdubs’s legs weakened and he sank to his knees, letting himself be near. Not fully embracing. Not yet. Just… present.

The warmth of Etho’s proximity, the steady certainty, began to anchor him. The panic didn’t vanish completely, far from it, but it softened, hidden beneath the soft weight of presence. Bdubs realized he wanted it, sought it, clung to it in little ways: staying in the same room, following quietly when Etho moved, lingering nearby when he spoke, even if only to watch him silently.

At night, when he sat alone in the basement, the shadows no longer terrified him in the same way. The hunger, the fatigue, the fuzziness in his head, they all made him ache for Etho’s return. He whispered into the darkness, sometimes asking questions, sometimes just murmuring,

-“Please come back… please…”

And when Etho returned, Bdubs moved closer. He leaned a little more. He pressed a little closer. Just enough to feel the warmth. Just enough to feel the safe rhythm of the other’s presence. Each small movement, each lingering gaze, each soft word, built a fragile tether. Bdubs didn’t recognize it as dependency yet. He only knew that he needed Etho, that the basement felt too big, too cold, too empty without him.

And Etho knew.

Bdubs sat cross-legged on the basement floor, the worn blanket wrapped around his shoulders, the faint hum of the fridge the only sound in the quiet space. He had grown calmer now. Calm, but aware. He knew the routines. He knew the safe corners, the shadows, the little imperfections of the basement walls. He knew he was alone, truly, utterly alone, except for Etho.

When Etho came down the stairs, the familiar creak of each step made Bdubs’s chest lift. The sound was a heartbeat in the silent room, a signal that everything was okay. Etho carried a small box, careful and deliberate, and Bdubs felt his pulse quicken, though not with fear. Excitement. Warmth. Relief.

- “Bdubs,” Etho said softly, kneeling beside him. “Look what I got.”

Bdubs’s eyes widened as he saw the cake, his favorite, candles already lit. He smiled, a bright, unrestrained smile, lighting up his face like the first sunlight in a long, grey winter.

He didn’t care about the cake. He didn’t care about the sweets or the icing or the little decoration on top. What mattered was that Etho was there. That Etho was real. That Etho was present. That Etho was safe.

- “You… you made this for me?” Bdubs whispered, voice trembling in happiness.

Etho’s lips curved in a quiet smile.

- “It’s been a year, Bdubs,” he said softly. “A year since you’ve been safe. A year since you’ve been here… with me. And I think… you understand now.”

Bdubs nodded, swallowing hard. Safe. He was safe. With Etho. That was all he needed. He didn’t need the outside world. He didn’t need anyone else. He didn’t need anything but this, the basement, Etho, the quiet, the warmth.

Etho’s hand brushed over his shoulder.

- “I could take you upstairs, Bdubs. To my house. To… our house.”

Bdubs froze, eyes wide, body stiffening. Upstairs? Outside? His chest constricted. What if something happened? What if danger came? What if Etho wasn’t there to help? The thought alone made him tremble.

- “I… I can’t… I… I can’t go without you…”

Etho knelt closer, tilting Bdubs’s chin gently.

- “You don’t have to. The upstairs, my house… your house… it’s our house now. All of it. Love. You’re safe with me.”

Love. The word swirled in Bdubs’s head like a warm current, and his pulse fluttered. Love. He… yes. Etho cared. Etho had always cared. Always. And now, all that mattered was that he was here. That Etho was here.

Etho stood, guiding him slowly toward the stairs. The darkness of the night pressed against the windows, unfamiliar and cold. Bdubs felt unease crawling under his skin, prickling at his arms. The basement was safe. The basement was calm. Outside… outside was unknown.

But Etho’s hand was warm in his. Steady. Certain. And Bdubs followed, trusting, leaning against the presence that kept him whole.

They reached the kitchen. Etho set the cake carefully on the counter.

- “I got you a gift too,” he said softly, voice low and deliberate. “Wait here.”

Bdubs nodded, eyes wide with curiosity. He watched Etho walk to the front door. The door clicked open, letting in a breeze of night air. His chest tightened. The night stretched out before him, unfamiliar, unguarded. Etho’s figure disappeared into the darkness.

Bdubs’s heart thundered. He could run. He could leave. He could escape. The neighborhood beyond the door looked calm, ordinary, safe in a way that was alien. He could scream, shout, tell someone what had happened, find help…

He stepped forward, hand brushing against the door. The fresh night air washed over him, cold and sharp. His pulse raced. The quiet street, the still houses, the indifferent stars above, it all whispered freedom, possibility.

His mind spun, dizzy and fuzzy. Panic coiled like a living thing in his stomach. What if… what if something happens? What if I’m alone? What if he… he’s not here to protect me?

The temptation pressed at him, heavy and urgent. He nudged the door, cracking it wider. His fingers grazed the handle, ready. He could leave. Etho wasn’t there. He could be gone for hours, maybe longer. He could run, he could escape, he could…

And then he thought of Etho. Of the cake. Of the gift. Of the warmth that waited in their house, the safety, the presence. Of the calm voice that always said, You’re safe. I’m here.

He froze, chest tight, and slowly, trembling, shivering, torn, he closed the door. His hands rested against the wood. He took a shuddering breath.

He didn’t need to go outside. He didn’t need to risk it. Etho was here. Etho was real. Etho kept him safe. He would wait. He could wait. He had to wait.

Bdubs sank back into the kitchen, knees drawn up, staring at the counter where the cake gleamed under the dim light. The room smelled of warmth, sweetness, Etho. Every fiber of his body hummed with relief, anxiety, and a fragile, desperate hope.

He whispered softly, almost to himself, voice shaking:

- “Please… come back… I need you…”

And in the quiet of the kitchen, alone with the cake and the promise of a gift and the memory of Etho’s hand on his shoulder, Bdubs waited.

He waited. And he would wait.

Because he had no one else. And he only needed Etho.

Bdubs let out a small, shaky breath and pulled his knees closer to his chest. The night pressed against him from the open window, threatening and tempting, but he felt the warmth of the basement, the familiar hum of the pipes, the lingering traces of Etho’s presence. He was safe here. He had always been safe here. And even if Etho was out there, even if the door could open, he knew Etho would return.

Minutes stretched into an eternity. Every faint sound, the rustling of leaves, the distant hum of a car, the creak of the house settling, made his heart jump. He whispered to himself, quiet and trembling,

- “He’ll come back… he’ll come back… he always comes back…” The words were a fragile tether, but it was all he had.

Then, finally, the faint click of the lock. His chest convulsed, and he scrambled to his feet, shaking from head to toe. The front door swung inward, and Etho stepped through, calm and deliberate, carrying himself as if nothing had changed, as if he had never been gone at all.

Bdubs froze for a heartbeat, then staggered forward, tears welling in his eyes. Relief, longing, and the soft bloom of happiness collided inside him. The cake didn’t matter. The gift didn’t matter. Nothing mattered except the steady, certain presence of Etho.

Etho’s eyes softened as he stepped closer.

- “Bdubs,” he said, voice low, smooth, grounding. He knelt slowly, removing the mask from his face. “I’m here. I told you I’d come back. Did you wait for me?”

Bdubs’s trembling hands clutched at Etho’s arms. He didn’t even realize he was sobbing until the sound escaped, raw and unfiltered.

- “I… I thought… I thought you’d left me,” he whispered, voice cracking. “I didn’t… I didn’t know what to do…”

Etho’s hands moved to cradle Bdubs’s head, pressing him close. He pressed soft kisses to his temples, lingering, warm, certain. Bdubs melted against him, shivering into the familiar weight, the familiar rhythm, the familiar reassurance. The warmth spread through him, a slow tide of comfort and belonging that had nothing to do with anything else in the world.

- “You’re safe,” Etho murmured. “You’ve always been safe with me. No one can hurt you. Not now, not ever.”

Bdubs sobbed quietly into Etho’s chest, clinging like he had never clung before. His mind spun with the dizzying relief, the confusion, the lingering threads of panic that Etho’s presence slowly unraveled. He pressed his face into the warmth, inhaling deeply, letting the smell, the heartbeat, the soft press of Etho’s chest against his own anchor him to the world again.

- “I… I didn’t want… I couldn’t… I…” Bdubs’s words stumbled and fell apart, but Etho held him without judgment, without a word, just pressing soft kisses to his temples, murmuring reassurances.

Bdubs’s small hands grasped at Etho’s shirt, fingers digging lightly, clinging desperately.

- “I… I don’t need… I don’t need anything else… just… you…” he whispered, voice trembling, fragile. “Please… don’t leave me again…”

Etho’s hand rested against the back of his head, fingers threading through hair gently.

- “I’m not going anywhere,” he said softly. “I’m here. We’re together now. Always. Upstairs, downstairs, wherever — our house. Our space. You’re safe, you’re mine, and I’ll never let anything happen to you.”

Bdubs shivered, the words washing over him like sunlight through fog. Warmth pooled in his chest, a slow, steady certainty that this was right, that this was where he belonged. The basement, the night, the house beyond the open door, it all faded into the background. All that mattered was Etho, Etho’s presence, Etho’s warmth.

He finally allowed himself to relax fully, to let his body melt into the embrace, tears streaking down his face, trembling subsiding, panic ebbing slowly into a soft, sticky knot in his stomach. The fear, the uncertainty, the thoughts of running, escaping, leaving, they all lingered at the edges of his mind, but for the first time in a long time, he didn’t need to act on them. He only needed to wait, to be here, to feel Etho.

Bdubs pressed his face further into Etho’s chest, wrapping his arms around him weakly, and whispered, voice small, fragile, but filled with a new kind of trust,

- “I… I’m happy… you’re here.”

And Etho, gentle and steady, held him close, brushing soft fingers through his hair, pressing light kisses to his temples, murmuring,

- “I’m here. I’m always here. You’re safe. You’ll never be alone again.”

The basement, the open door, the night outside, it all faded. Bdubs let himself stay in the warmth, in the safety, in the steady heartbeat of the one person who had always kept him alive, kept him safe, and now, finally, kept him at peace.

He didn’t move. He didn’t need to. All that mattered was Etho. All that mattered was the quiet certainty, the small, bright warmth of being here, being held, being understood.