#mnmnmnmnmn

“No!” Declan flinched violently. The last thing he needed was further harassment of his recent trauma.

“I’ll leave it right next to you, but you’ve got to tell me that’s what you want, darling.”

“Please, I’ll drink it myself,” he groaned, watching the water bottle touch the ground before Hasan retreated.

He painstakingly propped himself up on his elbow as the bastard flopped effortlessly into an armchair a few feet away. Each shift agitated the welts on his back. A shaking hand brought the bottle to his mouth, a sweet, cold stream of water pouring as steadily as he could. 

Declan closed his mouth, breathing in what air he could from his nose, and swallowed. His throat was beyond sore, and he felt a shiver rush down his spine, but it was good. His body begged for it, even as intuition only remembered suffering.

A few more sips would have to satiate him, because his arms refused to hold him up any longer. 

He kept eyes on Hasan, scrolling through their phone. Short snippets of songs and voice clips came through the speaker, but soon one came that made their face light up.

“Oh, would you look at that!” They glanced at Declan, then turned around the screen so he could see. “That’s McQuinn!”

A quiff of generic brown hair stood out on the screen, but a particular pair of red sunglasses sparked the recognition in Declan’s mind.

“...isn’t that the guy who cosplays Lightning McQueen?” What a strangely familiar face to see in a place like this.

“He was!”

“Damn, why’d he stop? I haven’t seen him on my for you page in a bit…” He allowed himself to reminisce, like his TikTok for you page was something he’d be able to see any time soon.

“Well… do you remember the man I picked up for my friend?” Hasan grinned.

The faint smile over his face dropped and Declan’s eyes went wide. Shot right back down to reality.

“No…”

“Hell yeah! He’s in Adela’s basement as we speak!” Hasan exclaimed, swiping through their phone and turning it back around to show the same man, frightened, bound, and gagged in a wooden crate.

“Oh my god. Oh my god.”

“It’s not-”

“You’re a freak!” Declan shouted. There was no reasoning or excuse that could make this okay.

“Do we really need to go over that again? This can’t possibly come as a surprise to you.”

He sighed into the carpet, already starting to smell of iron. Or maybe that was his nose. Soft twitches of his face kept disturbing it.

“Ooh, but speaking of captives’ social media…” Hasan leaned back, and Declan already knew what he was searching up. “Out of three Declan Labelles on Instagram—I looked at your ID—only one of them has a trans flag in his bio, fifty-one followers, and of course, those iconic blue bangs. But there’s only one problem! Some silly thing decided to keep his account private~!”

“Fuck off- hey!” They grabbed his hand and pressed his thumb to the scanner of a phone they’d just whipped out of their pocket. Hasan fist pumped when it unlocked, and Declan only realized it was his phone when it was in Hasan’s hands. 

“There we go... I already stripped all communication, location, or cellular capabilities so we don’t have to worry about anyone finding you, but I’m keeping it active on my internet for situations like this! Now, if you don’t mind, I’ll enter my fingerprint in here.”

Declan was already lost in his head as they did that, because if they found his Instagram they could see his linktree, and if they could see his linktree they found-

“But that’s not the main attraction, of course. You didn’t tell me you’re a streamer!”

“You didn’t fucking ask,” he grunted. 

“Beside the point. I’ve refrained from snooping around too awful much, but I’ve gathered you’re a video game speedrunner?” Hasan asked.

“Surprised you know what that means.”

“They’re nice background noise sometimes. Not that I could ever perform those glitches myself.”

“Cool.” Great. Something else for his captor to ruin.

He heard his own voice coming from the speaker, laughing and wheezing over a corrupted file. It cut out and was replaced by the celebration of his most recent personal best, only a week ago. Hearing his own laugh, so unaware of what was to come, made his breath catch in his throat.

“Turn that off,” he pleaded weakly.

“Come on, I’d like to get to know you!”

“I’m right here. Talk to me.” Declan rolled his eyes.

“We both know this isn’t the real you. You’re angry and hurt, and some may call that one’s true colors, but Declan isn’t this miserable thing at his core,” Hasan said, giving him the grossest pitying look.

“Stop torturing me and I might let you have a glimpse.”

“Goodness, isn’t somebody extreme!” They put a hand over their chest and pulled back.

“Asking to not be torn apart is a reasonable request, I think!”

“Here, here’s an archive video on your YouTube. Listen to this.” His own voice came through the speaker once again, over a music track.

“...and we’re live…? Woo, we’re live! Alright, uh, hey all, I’m Cy or Cybermen, my pronouns are he/him, and today I’m gonna show off a run of Donkey Kong Barrel Blast!” The audio paused, and Hasan turned back to him.

“See what I mean? So much brighter, more alive. Though, playing a game that uses a pair of bongos as controllers.”

“Like I said, you could have that for the low, low price of-”

“-not hurting you, and letting you go home, reimbursing you for this inconvenience, and disappearing off the face of the earth, of course, of course. Because you’re only here so I can experience your joy,”

“Shut up, you fucking sadist!” Declan grit his teeth to keep something more desperate from coming out.

“Mmmh, no, thank you. Just sit down and listen for a while.”

They hit play on the video again, watching along as Declan started the game, commentating on exploits and difficulties of individual levels. Listening to something so separated from his current self was a very strange experience. He tried to find comfort in the familiarity and success. That had been a particularly good run, especially considering how nervous he’d been about performing it in front of a large audience.

Declan had settled into the situation when a ding interrupted the video, and Hasan clicked on it.

“Oh my, looks like Lee had plenty to say about that video!” they smiled, opening the message instead. “Lee’s my boyfriend, by the way.” 

Yes. He’d gathered that from the context. Hasan adopted a slightly more American accent and read it off.

“Babe you know I never questioned you for a second, but he’s perfect. Those noises, mmmmm and he took it well for a first timer. Nice even lines down his back too. If I didn’t know you, I might think you’re more experienced.

“I’m so proud of how you handled that little escape attempt. You’re doing such a good job already and I can’t wait to be with you again.

“Please keep a proper eye on him though. I’d truly hate for any punishment to come to you, be it at my hands or the law’s.”

Oh, gross. That was gross. Hearing himself talked about like he wasn’t even there, which he didn’t have to be if Hasan didn’t read that out… and talked about like that. Like he was there to look good for them, like Hasan was the person in the right here, like any of this nightmare was reason to praise the instigator.

Declan didn’t say anything.

“I must say, I have to agree,” Hasan said.

“Good, because I wasn’t entirely sure if you were a creep yet.” Delcan sighed, knowing the insult wasn’t worth shit. He glanced up and the bastard was visibly blushing. They really were deprived.

“Mmhmm,” Hasan nodded absentmindedly, ticked out a text back, paused, and held the phone up. “Say cheese.”

“I’m lactose intolerant,” he muttered to the carpet.

“Close enough. You look cute by the way.”

“No wonder my last relationship didn’t work out. I wasn’t covered in blood.”

“Which means this one will inevitably last now that we understand the issue,” they finished, effortlessly, and Declan didn’t want to muster up the energy or effort to do more than roll his eyes. “Hey, Adela sent a heart of approval! The rest of the chat seems very excited as well.”

“I thought that was just for Lee.”

“Eh, spread the wealth and all that,” they waved him off, unpausing the speedrun video.

And it was right back to listening to game sounds and commentary. Like that wasn’t incredibly violating and invasive. Goddd and it was probably his fault too for saying how much it bothered him. Idiot!

Eventually, Hasan paused it once again.

“Alright. What do you say about cleaning that carpet now?”

“I say I feel like I’m gonna pass out,” Declan groaned.

“And if I offer you two granola bars in return for doing it?”

“You’re a dick.”

Hasan pretended to think for a moment.

“I can bump it up to three.” It sounded like a game show offer.

“You’re gonna make me do it anyway.”

“But I’m being so generous!” Yep, just as generous as those scammy hosts.

“Help me up.”

“That’ll cost you a granola bar.” Declan desperately wished he could switch the channel of his life.

“And if I ask you to do it without hurting me?” He was too tired to care that his question was a stupid one. Not too tired not to internally acknowledge it, though.

“Two.”

“Hurt me, then.” He kept his expression carefully flat, but Hasan lit up.

“Wow, those are certainly not words I expected to hear from you today!”

“Splendid. Brilliant. Get off your ass.”

“Goodness, not if you’re going to keep pretending these are commands for you to give. Ask me, and I’ll see how I want to answer.”

“Hey Hasan, do you wanna help me get up?” he asked flatly.

“Aww sure, Dec, I’d be glad to!”

They stood and approached him, sneering at the bloody carpet before straddling the small of Declan’s back.

“Ow, fuck-!”

“You signed up for this. No complaints.” Hands slid under his shoulders and pulled him up. They came together, shifting all of the welts across them, and Declan cried out.

“I didn’t- aaaagh! I didn’t say I’d take it well!”

“Just scream then. That’s more than enough for me. Now put your elbows under you before I drop your torso to the ground.”

Declan did, and once they’d gotten up, he tried to pull his knees under him too. Hasan helped. They lifted his hips. 

“Alright, that’s enough. You’ve done your granola bar’s worth of work,” he shooed them away.

“That I have. Are you sure you’ll be able to get this done?”

“You’re the one who beat me up and then told me I had to.”

“Sue me for caring,” Hasan held up their hands, but they couldn’t commit to the act.

“You’re concerned about your precious carpet. Not me.”

“And you’re the one taking care of it.” They didn’t deny his statement.

“Am I done after this?” 

“If I say yes, will you get on with it?”

“I reserve the right to wonder why I bothered asking,” Declan groaned.

“If you’re craving motivation, I can offer to step on you in the next five seconds if you don’t grab the stain remover.”

“Consider it done.” Declan waved a hand whimsically and reached over to the spray bottle. He sat on his heels to read the instructions on the back. “Spray on the area enough to soak it through. Rub in, and wait five minutes. Then, blot dry with a towel until the stain is no longer visible.”

“Read like someone who has never cleaned anything before.” They gave him a sarcastic thumbs up.

“That’s literally just the instructions.”

“Exactly. You don’t read the instructions.”

“Well. I do,” he grumbled. “Shut up unless you want your carpet ruined.”

“Don’t tell me what to do unless you want your mouth ruined.”

He shut up. He’d brushed against enough limits already.

Foamy spray soaked into the carpet below Declan, and he crawled across the floor, only as far as he needed to cover all the bloodstains. 

He took a rag and worked it in, regretting not doing so on the first pass. He had to sit up a few times to ensure that he wasn’t about to pass out, continuing at Hasan’s insistence. If they wanted the stain to come out completely they should’ve been helping. Having the sickly torture victim clean their floor wasn’t going to end in a job well done, which was brushed off every time Declan brought it up.

It was a slight relief to see rusty red and brown soaking into that same rag just minutes later, but he had to dig into the carpet to reach the lowest fibers. Declan put all of his weight on his trembling arms, and eventually switched to his knees. This was not worth two granola bars in the slightest, but they surely beat laying here for hours more, being stared at and forced to listen to his own voice, presumably until he finished. 

But now he was finally there, he sighed to himself, soaking up the last traces of the cleaner. 

Declan didn’t even wait for Hasan to survey his job before collapsing to the ground and greying out.

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