Chapter Text
The weather is more erratic tonight than last. Each alternating glance upwards brings clear sky then cloud. One thing for certain however, is that you’re more conscious of the cold even though the thermometer reads the same. Perhaps, the promise of the calmer haven of a person’s home as your destination permits you to be more conscious of your external sensations, even if the people you are seeking out are exactly the same pair of criminals as the night before.
Lost in this thought you glide past a fork in the path on your little bike, noticing the lights of town over the hill. You stop, placing your foot on the tarmac. From your pocket, you pull out the tightly folded note, squinting in the low light at the instructions written out for you.
As you thought, wrong turn. You need to go left at that crossroad.
Getting back on that bike and back on track, you switch on your bike’s headlamp. It was understandable back on the road away from your house, but this far away keeping it off for stealth’s sake is just paranoia. The others can’t find out you’re missing. Won’t find out.
The sight ahead is not promising. A vast, swirling mass of deep, evergreen woods. You really hope Sorbet and Gelato’s place isn’t in there, but unfortunately enough your instructions do prescribe a straight journey from here. Perhaps the house is on the other side of the woods. Perhaps there are other houses nearby. God, you really hope it isn’t all by itself.
As you enter the shade of the dark trees you start to regret not bringing your headphones. You can hear every little rustle of birds and bats up above, as well as whatever it is lurking in the bushes around you. You try to picture in your mind what this place might look like during day, peaceful and serene, but this isn’t day.
A street-light shines up ahead and you find yourself in brief relief, before you realise up ahead. The instructions were clear. First house you see.
Your concern is confirmed as you pull ahead of the large conifer blocking your view. Guarded by the streetlamp is a sizeable, two-floor cottage painted white, yellow light peeking through the gaps in the closed curtains. There is a silver car sheltered in the driveway, dare you say, a car reminiscent of quite a few sour memories looking over your back as you walked down the street.
Well, for better or worse, you’re here.
You wedge your bike between the low branches of the tree, out of view of the house. If tonight ends with you needing to run, it’s best they don’t know where your means of escape is.
You keep your wits about you as you walk over to the front door. First to your notice is the gate to the side of the garage, leading into the closed back garden. That probably means there’s a back door. Good to know. As for the front garden, it’s well kept enough to show it’s habitation, yet still dark and drab enough to give the unreasonable suggestion of an abandoned house. Maybe not abandoned. Haunted.
You step up to be standing directly in front of the door. It’s matte black, very stark against the rest of the house, and with a dramatic figurine of some mythical creature on the knocker that looks straight out of some gothic horror novel. You get the feeling it was installed by its current inhabitants and did not come with the house, the age of which is very much showing in its peeling paint. It looks like something they would choose at least.
A small camera, directly centred above the door looks down at you intrusively. You wonder if it’s always on or just a dud. No matter, it’s not like you’re sneaking in or anything… you need to stop procrastinating and just knock.
You raise your hand to the knocker.
The door swings over and you jolt a little in shock. You squint at the light flooding your eyes, not quite registering the man in front of you for a couple of seconds.
“’Evening sweetheart,” Gelato says to you. His voice is so smooth and tranquil you have to blink to make sure it isn’t actually Sorbet. Gelato, for certain, is wearing a silky white shirt clearly too big for him. You’re guessing he borrowed it from his husband, which is sweeter than you should probably admit.
“Hi-” you respond. Your attention is focused behind him, eager to gather as much as possible about the home you’re about to enter. Compared to the slightly-disrepaired state of the exterior, it’s beautifully kept, incredibly organised and sweetly decorated. The walls are painted a pale green, and there is an oak cabinet in the hallway topped with vases and plant pots. There’s an open door to the left with light and music coming from within, so you’d wager that’s where Sorbet is.
“What’s wrong? You’re shaking, dear,” Gelato observes. Your eyes snap back to him.
“Cold,” you excuse yourself. Gelato smiles and extends his hand.
“Come into the warm then, sweetheart.”
You step inside, without taking his hand. The door is shut behind you.
If nothing else, this house is warm. It smells nice too, something pleasing wafting in from what must be the kitchen ahead of you. Do Sorbet or Gelato cook? That’s an odd thought, far too domestic. But with a house this quaintly kept, you suppose it isn’t too far out the realm of possibility.
“Sorbet!” Gelato calls with a clap. “They’re here!”
The music in the next room stops, and Sorbet enters the hallway, carrying a book. He puts it down on the cabinet and smiles.
“Hello angel, did you get here alright?” he asks.
“Yeah, I don’t think they saw,” you answer.
“Good,” Sorbet responds, stepping subtly too close for comfort. You recoil back.
“Alright,” he remarks ambiguously, stepping away from you. Your nerves start to spike again, unsure what to make off his reaction. You shift anxiously on your feet.
“May we start? I brought the map you wanted,” you suggest, trying to get the interaction back in your control.
“Of course, and thank you,” Sorbet nods, taking it from your hands. “Follow us sweetheart.”
He opens a door at the end of the hall, a cold draft blowing in. He walks down a flight of stairs with Gelato right behind, who gives you a sly, suggestive glance as he disappears from view. Into the basement. You really don’t like where this is going.
Should you say something? Should you just go? Securing their help is important to you, but if this is a trick and you fall for it, it’s entirely on you. You look between the two doors, the basement and the exit, repeatedly.
“Earth to (Y/N)?” Gelato calls. “Are you coming?”
Deep breath. You walk over to the edge of the steep, wooden steps and look down on the couple smiling up at you from the bottom.
“I don’t want to,” you admit.
Gelato sighs theatrically, stepping up towards you with his arms open.
“Aww come on sweetie, surely you’re not gonna say you don’t trust us now?”
“Please tell me that’s a joke,” you say, looking away.
“You wound me darling,” he cajoles you. “But very well.” He clicks open his flip knife and before you have time to panic, hands it over to you.
“If it helps, you can look after this for me until we’re done.”
You look at the knife in your hand. It’s the real deal alright, and could certainly lend you a hand if in a pinch, but that doesn’t change the fact Sorbet is probably armed as well.
Fuck it, if this goes south it goes south.
You march ahead of Gelato down the stairs, hoping if you can at least see the basement, it won’t be as bad as you’re imagining.
It is.
The walls are lined tightly with rack after rack of weapon, some of which you’ve never even heard of before. In the corner of the room is a chair, the varnish chiselled away with what looks like rope marks, and absolutely spattered in blood.
The smell is, needless to say, less comforting than the rest of the house. You look back at them with worried confusion.
“Oh, that?” Sorbet asks, gesturing to the chair. “You can ignore that, my dear. Let’s just say we like to keep all our work-matters confined to one room,” he directs you, smiling uncontrollably as he admires the blood like he’s remembering something he’s proud of. “But what you need to concern yourself with, is this.”
He points to an unassuming table in the other corner, on top of which sits a rack of boiling tubes, one of which is filled with a bubbling liquid. “I hope you don’t mind, but we got ahead on planning for tomorrow’s big event.”
“No worries at all,” you stammer, tension falling at this apparently innocent explanation for bringing you down here. You’re also kind of glad they’re opting for poison to get rid of your abusers. It’s somehow easier on your conscience then more violent forms of death. “I have to say though,” you sigh. “I’m kinda surprised that assassins like you would opt for poison.”
“For the hit itself? No, no,” Gelato refutes you jovially. “This is just so they don’t cause trouble for the journey back here!”
Your stomach drops.
“...So you can leave less evidence?” you suggest hopefully.
“No you innocent thing,” Sorbet chuckles. “So we can have fun making them suffer,” he informs you.
“Does that surprise you?” Gelato asks, holding you from behind. “You know we can’t help our natures, and it’s not like we’re getting any other payment for this, is it?” he reminds you.
You breathe in sharply. It suddenly occurs to you how out of your control all of this is. You are silent as the pair step away from you towards the rack of weapons.
“Now my love,” Sorbet says to Gelato, “I think this is a matter where your creativity will come into use.”
You shut your mind quickly, not wanting to hear whatever horrors they have to discuss. It only half works, your insides twisting at every new mention of gore and viscera. All you wanted was your freedom, not for anyone to suffer. But all that’s out of your hands now, as is potentially, what happens to you…
No… you’re being dishonest to yourself. You don’t care if the people who wronged you are made to suffer. God knows you long passed that point of morality. What you care about is that the situation you’re in is at Sorbet and Gelato’s mercy. This is no longer your revenge.
Silently, you drift over to the table, sitting down besides the bubbling liquids. Your legs were starting to feel weak.
“Darling?” Gelato asks. It’s only after a moment you realise which darling he means. You look at him tiredly. “What do you think about all this? You came over for a reason after all.”
“I- I think you know what you’re doing better than me,” you digress.
“Suit yourself,” he shrugs.
“What’s the matter? You look faint.” Sorbet notes.
“Yeah I just… little sick…” you murmur.
“Want to go upstairs?” he offers.
Upstairs. Now that sounds nice. But your so deep in your spiral of thought you don’t actually feel like moving.
“If you aren’t feeling well, maybe we should drive you back to your place,” Gelato adds. Suddenly a wicked smile forms on his face. “Better yet, you could stay with us.”
“No,” you refute him firmly. Dark shapes are starting to form in your vision and your head feels cold. Every breath only makes it worse.
You fall forward, to the floor, vision failing.
Did they drug you?
You suppose after the idiot you’ve been.
It’s what you.
Deserve.
::::::::::::
“Stay with them in the back seat, let me know if they start choking.”
“They’re fine for now, but I’ll keep my eye out.”
“I’m such an idiot.”
…
“Are we here?”
“Think so.”
“Right, you lift their front. This is going to be difficult.”
“Should we just, you know, do it now? Everyone’s probably inside.”
“No, a deal’s a deal. Let’s not get violent unless we’re caught.”
“Hang on, I think they’re trying to open their eyes!”
“(Y/N)?”
“No, I don’t think they can hear us.”
…
“So this is where they sleep? Christ.”
“One day Baby, then we’re getting them out.”
“I don’t want to leave them here.”
“They’ll be fine, nobody noticed a thing.”
“But the drug…”
“They’re past the point of danger, they’ve been doing alright this far.”
“Please, just a little longer?”
…
“Sleep tight my love.”
::::::::::::
Christ, you don’t think you’ve ever had a headache this bad. What the hell were you even doing last night? … Oh fuck.
You blink rapidly, forcing yourself to take stock of your surroundings. The hell-scape you’ve woken up to is… your bed? They drugged you to take you back to your bed?
This… doesn’t feel right.
You throw off the covers and realise there’s something clutched in your hand. It’s a small note, damaged by your sweat but just about easily legible. You read it silently.
(Y/N),
Good news, the poison works!
It was not our intention to knock you out like that, but it was probably a mix of how close you were sitting to the vials and the fact you’re less used to it than us. Deepest apologies for not realising the risk sooner.
We made sure to get you back quickly without being seen, so you shouldn’t fear any punishment from your housemates. Look in the bottom drawer of your nightstand and we left you some painkillers.
We’ll be coming over tonight at 10pm. We would like to talk to you afterwards, so please don’t go anywhere. If possible, it’s probably safest for you to stay in your room until we find you.
One more day Sweetheart, then it will be over.
S + G
The message is adorned with three love hearts scribbled onto the bottom of the page. A touch from Gelato, probably. You open the drawer and find, as promised, a box of painkillers together with your favourite soft drink. You sink back into your sheets, listening to the sounds of your housemates as unaware as before of the fate that awaits them.
One more day.