Archive of Our Own

The backpack scraped against the underside of the trash can. It was just low enough that Jon had to duck and his full backpack took up a considerable amount of space. He didn't want to kneel, even if the ground was dry. Just a few more steps forward and his boots would step on wet pavement again. The rain got louder the closer Jon got to the end, as it drummed against the hard plastic. Soon he found himself looking out from under it.

A dip in the street storing trash cans and bikes. A street lamp illuminated the dark area dimly, just enough for Jon to see the hedge on the other side he would have to crawl under so he could travel through yet another garden. He hoped he would have peace from animals this time. For now he had to worry about being in the open, so against the pouring of the rain he listened for anything approaching, eyes towards the street. A strand from his hair fell across his shoulder and he brushed it back into his hood.

The rain was a distracting backdrop, but Jon didn’t hear anything besides it and concluded it would be safe to go. Ducking out from under the trash can, making sure his backpack didn't get caught, he stepped out into the rain. Jon didn't waste time, picking up speed in a jog, feeling his boots hit the ground as he sucked in the night’s cold air. Raindrops fell around him, one falling directly on his shoulder. The layers he wore saved him from any sort of stinging pain and out of the corner of his eye he could watch the droplet sit there, before the movement in his arms made the fabric shift and break the water tension, making it soak into his coat. Jon grimaced slightly at the cold dampness.

He could feel it before he saw it. Tremors that shook the ground all the way through his body and up to his neck, which turned to face the street. A human. His eyes went wide as he started sprinting. The wet ground under his soles threatened to have him slip, but Jon pressed on, seeing how close he was. He could make it, humans were always distracted. But before he could think about it, he made sure to check anyway. And they were not distracted. His hood covered most of his vision, but he had a clear view of their shoes, which had turned and pointed Jon's way. His neck twisted to the side, his legs running and terror creeping up, Jon stumbled over.

The fall was hard and painful. He was up on his feet and the next moment the ground came rushing towards his face as he skittered across the pavement. Jon had tripped over his own legs, making one of his ankles painfully twist the wrong direction. His arms were thrown in front of him, out of instinct, and took most of the damage. He was grateful for a moment, glad to have his head saved from trauma, until he felt his palms sting. He hissed as he pushed his torso up. Lying on the wet ground soaked most of his clothes immediately. A few raindrops hit his back.

Jon's heart was already pounding, but the ground was shaking harder beneath him. Immense booming footsteps came closer each time they hit the wet ground before they came to a halt. Jon started shivering, though he couldn't tell if it was out of chill or fright. Weirdly, in all his growing fear he could tell the rain had stopped, at least it stopped landing on him. He knew it would be a mistake, but he turned around on his back.

A horrible, gigantic looming figure bathed in shadows stood above him. Though he had to start with the shoes and crank his neck up and up and up, until his hood slid down, jaw dropped. Their body blocked the light and hid most of their face, yet he already knew they were staring down at him. He could feel his muscles tense as his eyes focused on theirs. They were wide open like Jon's, though hidden behind big glasses that seemed to glisten in the low light. Their mouth was agape in wonder and an umbrella sat over their head, shielding both of them from the rain. The human kneeled down, the thick fabric of their coat rustling as the soles of their huge shoes scraped against the concrete for proper balance and Jon flinched, sucking in a breath. The rain fell rhythmically against the umbrella.

He tried getting up, but winced as his palms stung, trying to push himself off the pavement. It only resulted in him lifting his torso up and falling down on his bag again. One of his feet proved useless to push himself along, so he crawled back on his elbows, using only one of his legs to drag himself across the ground. His breathing was fast and horribly uneven in panic. It was a fantasy, but maybe he could make it away, as long as the human wouldn't move.

Jon knew he jinxed it when he saw the human's arm stir into motion. A hand reached out and the sight made him feel like all of his muscles turned into hard stone. His dropped jaw quivered and his frozen body shivered as he watched it approach with wide eyes. Jon imagined the worst. Being squeezed to death, the fingers crushing his fragile body without hesitation. But they had other plans and simply nudged his leg. He still recoiled from the awful touch, crawling back with a yelp, but was surprised. The human was equally so, from whatever they were expecting, as the hand shot back a bit. Rain fell around them in a short moment of relative silence.

It withdrew and for a moment Jon felt relief, until he watched the handle of the umbrella switch hands. The other one went for the borrower again and this time didn't stop. He tried backing off as soon as he saw it get closer, but with its speed and Jon's injuries, it was a futile attempt. The fingers caught his leg, he didn't have enough time to try shoving them off before they took a hold of his sides and wrapped around his lower half. The hand, forming a fist around him, lifted him slightly above the ground.

The touch was horrible. His breathing sped up but he was frozen in fear as he saw his hips and legs disappear in the grasp. The skin had a warmth to it, that made for a rough contrast between it and the freezing dampness of his clothes. His legs twitched in the grip of the fingers and he shuddered how they twitched back. The hand couldn’t even do him the courtesy of being still as it slightly, but obviously, shook. Jon felt horribly overwhelmed by it and felt his vision going hazy in his state of panic. It only focused again, shooting up to the human’s face when they spoke up.

"You're cold." They stated. A calm voice that sounded surprised, but far too loud as Jon felt it echo inside his chest.

Jon was cold. He was shivering. But he wished it was only the cold, because being cold was something easy to deal with.

The human readjusted their umbrella, a movement that made him sway around in the iron grip. They were holding it by the neck now, so that both of their hands were free. Jon feared what was coming next, but even prepared, he felt his pulse rise higher and his heart drop as yet another hand approached. That's when he started struggling. He winced at his palms gripping the human's skin to shove himself out of the grip, then he gritted his teeth through the pain. To his surprise, the grip wasn't too strong and Jon could feel his hips becoming free as he squirmed and wiggled around. He wasn't too high off the ground now, he could survive the fall.

"Ah wait, let me.." Their voice casual, with a tinge of nervousness if he paid enough attention.

The second hand unveiled its plan as Jon felt a tug on his backpack and his eyes went wide in despair. He tried to hold onto the straps, but the human's fingers were far stronger and his wounded palms were making his eyes water as he gripped the fabric with them. Stolen from his own hands they quickly got them off his shoulders. Jon could only watch in sorrow as his belongings were ripped from him and indifferently stuffed in the human’s coat pocket. His eyes fixed on it and he hoped he wouldn't go in there next. Second hand, now free again went back to hold the umbrella, readjusting it.

The fist was suddenly raised higher which made his stomach drop and turn with the unnatural motion. He might have been up on human eye level now, but Jon’s gaze was still lingering on the pocket and how easy it had been for them to rip his possessions from him. He also didn't want to look his captor in the face. The grip loosened up for just a moment and Jon felt himself slipping. Getting out of the hand would be fine, but from this height he could hope for just a broken leg. Jon sucked in a breath in surprise and actually held onto the fingers in fear of the fall for a short moment before the grip around him was readjusted, stronger this time. It didn't hurt him, yet maybe, but it made it impossible to squeeze out. Jon was going to try anyway.

"There we go, much better." They let out a sigh and sounded relieved.

Better was a very strong word. In his new position Jon's body was almost entirely enveloped in their fist, abdomen and torso surrounded by the unrelenting flesh as well. His arms were free, though raised in an uncomfortable, awkward position by the fingers around him. Only his feet hung free at the bottom which he felt at least a bit grateful for, as it wasn't hurting his bruised ankle. His healthy one tried to kick as much as it could reach, but it barely scratched the skin. His palms still hurt, but he still held onto the hand, trying to shove as much as they could. His nails scraped against the thick skin, though it was too resilient to damage it. If he had the manoeuvrability, Jon didn't think he would be above trying to bite it. The fingers weren't hurting him as he would have expected, not squeezing the life out of him yet, but they made it last least feel impossible to breathe as his rib cage pushed against it and each inhale felt like a reminder of how helpless he was. He would feel each time the fingers twitched, likely absentmindedly, though for Jon it seemed like it was a cruel teaser of what’s to come. He felt the fist being moved, making him lean forward and back, probably to study him. His lungs sucked in the night's cool air rapidly and it stung against his dry throat. This was a nightmare.

"Aww, It's okay, it's okay. My hands are nice and warm, see?" They cooed and Jon grimaced when he thought he even saw them tilt their head to the side in the corner of his eyes, belittling him. He didn't want to look at their face directly either and confirm the smile he heard in the human's voice.

Of course they were warm, skin radiating overwhelming heat off of it, except it was anything but nice. All it felt like was ‘wrong’. Jon tried to move his legs, trying to pry the grip that pinned them together apart, but it wouldn’t budge. It would be hopeless, he knew, but maybe if he spoke up they could let him go. At least it would feel like he was trying more than useless squirming. He opened his mouth but not a word escaped, just a whimper. In all his focused struggles Jon had forgotten that the human had been kneeling, until they stood up.

His stomach flipped over and his breath knocked out of him as the air rushed past his head. The involuntary and vast movement made it feel like he couldn’t breathe and only after he stopped did he heave for air again. He felt sick, dizzy and most definitely not ready to speak up anymore, taking a moment to adjust before looking around. It was way too high up. Jon found himself leaning onto the fingers as he held on. His palms still stung, but he didn't want to be dropped. He was closer to the umbrella now and heard the rain loudly pounding against its fabric as the wind ran through his hair. He shivered.

Their voice, even held low, tremored through his shaking form. "Oh, you poor little thing, let me get you home."

Jon horrifyingly perked up at that. It was a grim reminder of how humans viewed borrowers. An annoying pest at worst that must be eliminated and at best a plaything for their entertainment. A thing. If he was being taken home, it might be the latter in his case. He flinched as the fist moved again, lowering him this time. When he saw he was moving towards the coat's pocket he started squirming again and shook his head with jaw shut tight. He almost felt relief when it abruptly stopped.

"Hmmm.."

Jon actually looked up at the humming to see the human staring down at him, even in the dark he could see the thoughtful, unsure expression across their big face. He defensively drew his shoulders up and shrank back under the gaze.

"Yea, maybe, let's, hmm..." They mumbled to themself anxiously. Then their noises changed to contempt humming as they moved to squeeze the umbrella's metal rod between their neck and shoulder.

The human started unbuttoning their coat with their free hand. They struggled doing it one handed. The wide eyes on Jon's face narrowed in confusion. Huh? He had always found humans perplexing, but this one was the most outstanding. Were they going to take the coat off, right now, in the cold rain? But it did not come off, instead it simply hung open as the human's attention went back on the borrower. The hand moved once more, higher again, but not the human's eye level. Even in the dark he could see the white collared shirt they were wearing and his confusion turned to fear once more when he saw the chest pocket. He was held next to it as the human hummed, comparing the two.

Jon’s breath hitched as the fist around him suddenly loosened. Thinking he might get dropped he clawed into the fingers for a hold. The huge digits however did as they pleased and readjusted their hold on Jon to the front and back of his torso. If he felt like he couldn’t breathe before, he did so even less. He couldn’t be sure if it was his imagination or the human’s effort that was squeezing his chest too tight. Before he could protest at the new position he looked down. The long drop he saw under his feet got quickly replaced by the pocket's opening, held open by the other hand.

The human’s breath washed over him as their loud voice erupted from above. "Don't worry, it'll be warm in there."

He did not want to be pocketed. Not picked up and stuffed in someone's pocket like a shining trinket found on the street. But the human’s strength far outweighed his own and though fighting it was pointless, he did not want to accept his fate. Jon minded his hurt ankle, only kicking with his healthy one against the human's chest, but it made no impact. Up to his hips he got lowered into the clothed opening before the fingers around him simply let go and dropped him.

At least it was not a far fall, nor a harsh landing. He might have screamed otherwise. Instead Jon let out a shaking yelp as he sled down the pocket's outer layer until he sat at the bottom. He cried out in pain for both his ankle, which he readjusted to not have any weight on it, and his palms which ran along the fabric, trying to get a hold. Jon hadn't gotten the chance to check their state and gasped. All scratched up from the fall it was no wonder they stung. The left one must have had a worse one, some blood was coating his palm. He gritted his teeth at the sight and the way his wounds hurt when he flexed his fingers. Jon’s attention was forced away from himself as the 'wall' he was against shifted. The human's breathing had been loud and clear before, but now Jon could feel it as the human sighed in satisfaction.

"There we go."

He was so uncomfortably close to their chest, the voice felt booming as it vibrated through his miniscule frame. It took him a moment to recognize that the tone was meant to be reassuring, maybe as a heartless joke, or to themself, like a pat on the back. The thick fabric around him rustled as the human moved and his world got dark. Did they close their coat?

Once more their voice was huge and heavy. "It's just a short walk, alright?"

His eyes adjusted in incredibly dim lighting as the human started moving. Jon's world swayed from side to side and he quickly found himself more laying down than sitting. Some parts of the wetness of his coat got soaked up by the pocket's fabric, making it feel damp under Jon. He could feel the human's deafening heartbeat as well, much slower and calmer than his.

Jon took a deep, shaky breath. He needed to get out. Putting his weight and balance on his good foot, his elbows, knees and back bracing against the walls of the pocket, he managed to stand up. Keeping his balance was harder and out of instinct he took a hold of the fabric, hissing out in pain as he probably gave the white shirt a red spot. That was the human's fault really, Jon's shoes weren't clean either. His feet kept slipping, finding it hard to get a balanced footing, but on his toes he could just about feel the opening. His fingers brushed against it and he tried to catch it, before something suddenly pressed against him, squishing him to the human's chest. Probably a hand.

"Hey it's okay, we'll be home soon."

He could feel the voice rumble through his entire frame, shaking all the way through to his bones and he started trembling again. In the tight trapped space his breathing picked up until he was hyperventilating, feeling as though he might get the air squeezed out of his lungs. Using his elbows he tried pushing them to either side, struggling for more space. He could vaguely make out muffled cooing from the human. Jon kicked his legs. Wrong move, as he hit his ankle against something and cried out in pain. The unrelenting hand didn't move. He stopped struggling to catch some air. Even if it felt like giving up, Jon was in no position to squirm around right now, he would only hurt himself. So, he stayed still, trying not to think how closely pressed he was to a human. He whimpered and thought he would break down any second to cry.

"There we go…" Their voice, much quieter than before, still made him feel horribly small in comparison.

Much to his surprise the hand was removed and Jon immediately fell to the bottom of the pocket again. Not wanting to repeat the same scene, he laid still, his arms crossed over his chest, almost like a self hug. His heartbeat was rapid and a horrible combination with his short and shallow breaths.

He closed his eyes. Trying to forget where he was, where he was going. But it was impossible with the human's chest moving against him as they breathed and the booming heartbeat that rang through his entire body. It was warm in here, too warm, the air was stuffy and Jon had to open his coat. He couldn't even put his palms over his ears to drown out the sounds of footsteps before the pocket would sway the other way.

It took an agonizingly long time, but when he felt the human stop and heard the clattering of keys, he felt relief. Not because of the destination, but because at least it would mean he could get out of here. There was the rustling of thick cloth. The coat must have been removed because light flooded Jon's vision from above which made him throw his hands in front of his face. He heard shuffling as his eyes adjusted and when they did he made eye contact. Through the opening of the pocket he could see them staring down at him, a smile on their face visible in the better light conditions. Jon's breathing sped up again. He shrank down on the spot. The huge eyes wandered down his body and their smile fell as they landed on his hands.

“You- You're hurt!” They exclaimed and the raised tone made the borrower flinch. The face went out of his vision, being replaced by the underside of their chin. “Wait, uhm..."

Frantic footsteps. More shuffling. Jon wanted to get up, take a look outside, but didn't have much time as the world above him dimmed and his head shot upward to see a hand reaching in, the fingers blocking out the light. He didn't even have time to react and struggle before the hand wrapped around his body once more, trapping him in a fist.

The time held was far shorter at least, which he was grateful for, and as soon as he was out in the open he was already set down on a table. He stood on his legs first, but trying to take a step back proved fatal and Jon fell down. Holding himself up with his hands still didn't work so he found himself on his back and elbows, pushing himself away with one leg, the other carefully held up.

"Aw no, your leg too?"

Jon looked up, for the first time seeing the human’s face illuminated in proper view. The eyebrows were furrowed in a concerned expression, mouth slightly agape. Their wavy hair covered their forehead and the coat they had on before was removed so only their white shirt remained. Jon glanced at the pocket. The human was leaning down, but they were still incredibly large, towering over him, which made Jon feel all the more smaller and helpless. He had been kidnapped and the human didn't even break a sweat. Their hands raised again and the borrower flinched, ready to get grabbed again, but they just gestured, holding up a finger. Jon pulled himself closer together.

"Okay, just wait here a moment. I'll be right back, okay?"

They nodded once and turned around to leave the room. His eyes followed them and as soon as they were out of sight Jon's head whipped around to take in his surroundings. He was on a table in what appeared to be the living room. Probably the dining table, judging by the sets of chairs around it. If he had his climbing gear he could get off it in no time, but his bag was long gone, probably thrown away. He carefully padded his sides down. He had to have something, something to help him. What was he hoping for? A weapon? Even if he had one, it wouldn't do much. Though it would at least make it feel like he hadn't given up, even in the midst of a hopeless situation.

Jon let out a long low breath as he looked down at his clothes. His coat was dirty, damp and stained by the dirt he had picked up on the street. His pants weren't in any better shape, but seeing the scratched fabric he was glad he didn't scrape a knee as well. Not that it made much of a difference. Three of his limbs were out of commission right now. With his hands wounded like they were he wasn't even sure he could climb, even if he had his gear. He wasn’t even sure if he could walk with how he’d messed up his ankle. Jon sat up with a grunt and opened his boot to check how bad it was. He flexed it experimentally and could move it at least partly, so it wasn't broken. Putting any weight on it wasn’t possible though, so his relief was minimal. Just like on the street he felt the humans footsteps before they came into full view.

"I'm back! I'm back.” They sounded like they’d been in a hurry, almost out of breath. “I wasn't sure what we were going to need so I just brought the whole box with me. I hope it's uh…"

They were carrying a green box in their arms which they sat down on the table, so they could take a hold of a chair. Their eyes wandered to Jon's boot and they blinked.

"Oh, okay. You already took it off.” Just a second later their eyes were locked with his again, the human able to search across his whole body with barely a flick of the eye. ”B-but we have to start with your hands, we don't want to risk anything."

The human sat down, chair’s legs scraping loud against the floorboards as they scooted closer while Jon moved back. He wanted to speak up, say something. He could plead to be let go, maybe they would even listen. So he opened his mouth and tried to press anything out of his throat. But nothing came out and Jon felt his fear rise, as if it was pushing against his words. He tried again, but he fell silent save for a quiet whimper. The human didn’t even notice his pathetic attempts, their hands searched through the box.

"There they are." They sounded proud and relieved, picking out and sitting down some blue packs onto the table. "Now, just give me your hand…"

Jon’s eyes immediately flung to a hand reaching out again. Like every single time, Jon tried to get away from it’s touch and out of reach, but was far too slow. Fingers grabbed his arm and Jon quailed at the sensation of digits larger than life holding his limb in place. He tried to pull it free. Meanwhile the human's free hand nonchalantly struggled to rip open a pack.

The human clicked their tongue at the paper’s resistance, yet their voice was calm. "It's okay, it will-"

For once the struggling was a success. Jon found his arm slipping inside the coat's arm and with a harsh tug he pulled his hand through. He almost smiled at his success. The human seemed surprised, but the borrower didn't waste a second to shed his coat and crawl backwards, pushing his body across the table surface with his undamaged foot. Jon's coat was held between the human's fingers, but quickly dropped so the hand could reach towards him once more.

"Hey, it's okay…" Their voice was trying to sound relaxing, but to Jon, who barely registered its words anyway, it sounded more infantilizing.

The fingers caught and grabbed his forearm, too tight to tug it out this time, though Jon still tried with all his might.

They tried their fake kindness once more. "It’s okay! It will only hurt a second, it will be over before you know it."

Jon watched a small cloth be removed from the pack and gripped with their free fingers. A pungent smell filled the air and made Jon wrinkle his nose. The borrower knew what disinfectant was, but didn't prepare for the stinging. He tensed and cried out in pain as the cool cloth was pressed against his palm. He kicked and thrashed. The pain wasn’t even too bad, he’s had far worse. But the vile touch keeping him in place being there as well felt entirely overwhelming. He desperately wanted out of their grip. His breathing was fast and painful against his dry throat as his fingers twitched. Jon turned his head and leaned it against his forcefully raised arm as the pain died down and he waited for his breathing to do the same. He was exhausted.

Out of nowhere something touched the top of his head and he let out a whimper. Too afraid it would hurt him, he kept his head down, his whole body frozen, tense and on edge. Then the thing on top of his head moved, back and forth, mangling his hair up.

"There you go, little one…" The human audibly smiled.

It must have been a finger, it felt warm as it continued its movement. Manhandled, kidnapped and now he was being pet. His jaw quivered and if he hadn't been ready before to cry, he was now. It was all way too much for him and he let out a single sob before he felt a tear run down his cheek. Something inside him had snapped and he heard sound escape his mouth before he realised he was speaking.

"Let…"

The human's breathing hitched, petting stopped, and he could hear them lean in closer, like they were straining to listen. Jon tried to speak louder.

"Let-" He tugged on his arm. "Let me go."

Jon shut his jaw tight, hearing no reaction nor answer. His teary eyes made his vision blurry, but his tears weren’t flowing down. Against his better judgement he slowly lifted his head, cringing at the fingertip that remained on his head. He moved out of the way of it. Looking into their eyes proved very difficult so he barely held the contact. They were wide in wonder behind their glasses. Then, keeping the eye contact he hopelessly added:

"Please."

They stared at each other. The human seemed shocked and let out a long breath.

"You talk, you-" They blinked and stated blandly. "You can talk."

The staring continued and Jon drew his shoulders up, feeling very vulnerable under the giant curious gaze. It didn’t leave him so he took matters into his own hands and lowered his head. The fingers on his arm were still there, holding him in place, as the human seemed too shocked to have listened to his request. Or maybe they just didn’t care. He eyed the fingers, twitching against him.

He tried again. "Can you..." Jon tugged at his arm again as a sign.

The human sucked in a quick breath and immediately let go of him. "R-right, of course, just be careful." They sounded bashful.

Jon wasted no second backing off, careful to not touch anything though, more for his own good than the human’s request. His breathing was deep as he looked up again, trying to find a hint of what the human might plan on doing to him in their wide staring eyes, but they looked surprisingly worried. He brushed the thought off to instead eye the hands. They were slowly being pulled back to the human, a very welcome sight. Seeing as he was out of immediate threats Jon took a look at his disinfected palm. It was badly scratched up, but the bleeding seemed to have calmed down at least. Jon had some bandages, though not in his pockets, they were between his books and clothing in his bag, which was likely gone. He still took the risk to ask, preparing for the worst.

"Is uh- Do you still have my bag?" He forced his voice louder than he felt really brave enough to.

The human’s eyebrows knitted before shooting up. "Yes! I do! I'll go get it, hang on."

They lifted their hands, which made Jon flinch, along with their raised voice, though they only gestured for him to stay. The ground shook under Jon as they left the room, giving him some peace. Jon used the time to crawl back a bit further, grateful for any bit of distance he can bring between himself and them. Peace kept short, he looked up when the ground shook again and the human reemerged in the doorway. There was something in their hands, but only when they came closer did he recognise his bag. They leaned over Jon who forced himself to sit still and kept his eyes glued to his belongings. He couldn’t help but flinch again when the hands came close enough to sit the backpack down next to him.

"Here you go, little thing…"

He was just one person and could only carry so much when he moved. Jon sewed it large enough to hold the essentials, it was everything he owned now. The borrower pulled the bag over into his lap. Jon allowed himself to ignore the giant presence above him and hugged his bag tight for a moment, feeling great comfort in the familiarity of it. He held it close and taut, afraid the human might take it away again any moment. It would barely be any effort to them. Their words almost didn’t sink in, but when they did he bit his lip and swallowed down the pained feeling in his gut.

Jon looked up, taking a deep breath before raising his voice “I’m not a thing.” He was barely able to hide his resentment.

“Oh, of course, you’re not! Sorry...” They kept their voice low and sounded almost as pained as their facial expression looked. “Sorry.”

The human took a seat again and Jon stared at them for a moment longer and was not only perplexed when they were the person to break the eye contact first, but when he realised they just apologised to him. Jon decided he had better things to focus on. It was finicky to open his bag with damaged hands, but even harder to search through everything. Just where he remembered it sat he found his bandages and a shy, relieved smile crept on his lips when he saw everything else was still there.

But there was no time for niceties. Jon pulled the bandages out and carefully lifted his bag out of the way. He planned to sit it down next to him, but hiding it behind him suddenly felt much safer. He navigated through his wounded palms first to expertly wrap the one that got it worse, awkwardly working with his fingertips and then teeth to pull the gauze tight. Jon hadn’t always been the one to prepare for the worst and get more supplies than he needed to borrow, but he was glad he did for this one. A lot of access hung off so he turned around to his bag, eying the silver metal that gleamed back at him. Pulling out a knife with just fingers was hard and holding it was even harder. It slipped out of his fingers and fell next to his legs. It didn’t feel great either to reveal his weapon to the human, but he needed to cut the bandages some way.

Said human had been sitting there and watching in silence, save for hitches in their breath or the rustling in their clothes as they shifted. He hadn’t been looking up, but he was sure the weight on him came from their uncomfortable gaze. When they spoke up again Jon flinched hard, head shooting upwards.

“Do you ah- need any help?” They asked. A smile was painted on their lips, before they pressed into a thin line with a pained expression.

Jon opened his mouth, but decided that he could simply just shake his head. He sent them a weary expression as well to get the message across.

“O-okay, alright.” They sounded disappointed, worried perhaps, and avoided Jon’s eyes. “I’ll just- I’ll be here if you change your mind.”

He didn’t nod, just stared at them for a moment. The human had their hands out of Jon’s vision under the table by now. They leaned back with a heavy sigh, eyes pointing towards the floor. Jon furrowed his brows and shut his jaw tight, then got back to his hands. It was very awkward and dangerous to handle the blade, but he would much rather accidentally cut himself than hand it over to human fingers. Finally getting through the bandage and tucking it in, the same job was done to his other hand.

Jon’s fingers were free and he flexed them. His palms still stung at the movement, but with the added padding he could at least sort of touch things again. He rested his hands on his thighs for a moment, letting out a sigh as his eyes travelled down to his ankle. There should at least be enough gauze left for it. Now able to brace against and grip with his palms, stinging pain dulled by his wrapping, he leaned forward and pulled his leg up, so that it rested against his thigh and he had free access to his bruised ankle. He gently pulled the sock off and wanted to stuff it in his shoe when he remembered he’d left it, not bothering to drag it with him when he’d crawled backwards. Jon eyed it, a good distance away, and closer to the human. His eyes went further up and he tensed up more when they locked eyes and he realised they must have been staring at him the whole time. He wanted to tell them off, to tear their gaze away, but didn’t feel right to risk annoying or angering them. The human, oblivious to his thoughts, expectantly raised their eyebrows slightly.

He tore his eyes away, trying to ignore them. Even if it was an impossible task when everything about them was so huge, overwhelming and vital to be cautious off. Still, his ankle needed treatment. Grabbing the last bit of bandage it looked like it would barely be enough at first when he started around the foot, but by the end it was a bit much. It wasn’t enough to cut it off so he just wrapped it around his ankle a few more times before fastening it, leaving him with a slightly thicker wrap than he needed, though he supposed the extra padding wouldn’t hurt. He tested it out, bracing his foot against the ground and pressing down, but it only made him wince.

“Oh, be careful! You should avoid putting weight on it.” They quickly exclaimed.

Jon flinched at the sudden words and when he looked up his eyes went wide at a pair of hands. They were just hovering in front of them, gesturing, but the sight with the knowledge of what it felt like to be touched and trapped by them made him tremble. He looked upwards to their face, trying to catch a scheming plan hidden in their eyes perhaps. The hands lowered, resting at the edge of the table. The fingers drummed against the surface as the human cleared their throat and Jon cringed at the feeling of it under him, shaking through the wood.

“You know what I uhm, I haven’t had dinner yet and maybe you haven’t either? Or you’re just hungry in general.” Their hands picked up from the wooden surface as they rambled on and over their own words, once more just gesturing but Jon’s eyes tried to follow both anyway. Just in case. “But I uh, have some creme soup leftovers from yesterday. So if that’s something you want… or eat in general, I guess, I could heat that up for us? If you wanted.”

Finally the hands decided to take a rest, disappearing under the table again and Jon allowed himself to look away. While he hadn’t had dinner yet, he felt comfortable to skip or postpone it, feeling too tense and anxious in the presence of a human to have a bite. But he did realise, more than just retrieving a single item, warming up food would take a longer amount of time. Precious time he could use to get away. He shifted and felt his bag against his back, where his climbing gear was inside. It might be his only chance.

He fidgeted with his bandages as he looked upwards and raised his voice. “Y-yes, I uh, soup would be fine.”

“Alright, great!” They beamed, a sentiment Jon couldn’t share back and got up too quickly to their feet, the movement startling the borrower. “So uh… I will just take you with me?”

Jon’s blood ran cold. Of course they needed to take him with them. Of course they wouldn’t let him out of their sight. One of the hands was braced against the table and his breathing sped up as he imagined it reaching for him again. The horrible grip, the uncomfortable warmth and the incredible feeling of helplessness. He looked up towards them, unable to hide his quivering jaw. Maybe he could argue with them? Plead? They did let his arm go earlier, maybe they could listen again. Then his breath hitched when he saw the hand reaching for him. He backed off, minding his bandages, and held up a hand to signal them to stop.

“Wait! M-may I stay here? Please?” He pleaded and tried to calm his breath.

Their hand stopped immediately. They stared for a moment before they pulled it back. “Oh. Yea. Of course. Yes, uhm, sorry. I’ll get… I’ll just go.”

Like earlier they gestured behind them, as if there was any other way out of the room. They gave him a sort of pained expression after an awfully forced smile and turned heels. Didn’t take them too long to sound cheery again, because after they went outside to the hallway the ‘Be right back!’ they called out sounded brighter. Though they didn’t need to raise their voice, he could have heard their normal volume just as well.

Jon waited just a moment longer, for when the footsteps sounded distant enough and he swore he heard the creak of a cabinet’s hinge. He spun around quickly to pull his rope and hook out, stashed at the very top in his bag. Normally he would take the time to knot himself a safety harness, but he had to make haste. Jon ignored the protest of his stinging palms as he put his rope across his arm and shut the bag to sling it over his shoulders. He had to get up slowly, kneeling first until he could get up on his feet. His ankle still hurt and he gritted his teeth and swallowed down a groan. He tested it out hastily anyway and found that stepping on his heel hurt the least, so he limped on that. Jon made a detour to grab his boot and stashed it in his bag first before he went to the edge of the table. Just as he expected, it was a long way down, but with a stop on the chair before the floor he should make it just fine.

Quickly he took the metal hook, buried it in a grease of the wood and pushed it in. He limped close to the edge and gave the rope a tight pull. Jon had to bite his lip to muffle a cry of pain. He took a few breaths and briefly looked up to the doorway. There were sounds from the kitchen, he still had time. Perhaps he could grit his teeth through the pain? He gripped the rope again and shut his jaw tight. He moved his hands along the rope, like he would on a descent and this time couldn’t silence his whimper. Jon looked back, down to the chair and then to the rope in his hands. Who was he kidding, he couldn’t climb in this state. He could barely hold his balance on his healthy foot. The best he could hope for was a harsh landing on the chair and he really couldn’t afford any more injuries. With a long defeated sigh he looked down and dropped the rope.

Jon kneeled down and pulled his hook out from the wood, eying the mark it left for a moment and then collected his rope into a neat ring. He looked up again, but it didn’t seem like the human was coming back just yet. He realised looking like he was about to leave might be a bad idea. They might pick him up again, stuff him back into the pocket so he was stuck. Shuddering at the idea he hobbled back to where he was sitting before and slumped down, shrugging the bag off his shoulders and setting his rope aside. He pulled his leg close, the one he didn’t mess up, and hugged it to himself. There wasn’t anything to do besides wait so he took in the room again, studying the walls. It was hard to judge from a distance, but maybe he could carve a hole into them and disappear in their darkness. Maybe some borrowers already lived here. It was wishful thinking but if anybody did live here maybe they could help him. Help him escape so he could warn them and they could all leave and no one had to experience what he did.

He was pulled out of his daydreaming with a jolt, the sudden approaching footsteps having surprised him. Just like that his chance of escape was gone when the human appeared around the corner with a smile and full hands. Once again the footsteps shook the ground under Jon who tensed more with each tremor.

“So,” They began, letting out a sigh and putting the contents they held on the table before taking a seat. “I couldn’t find a bowl your size so I thought I could try a bottle cap, but then realised a plastic one would be too big and if I took a metal one you might cut yourself on that.”

They had to take a breath between their ramblings. Jon swore their food would get cold before they would stop talking.

“But then I searched through my stuff and I found this thimble!” They pointed to it. “Which should be a better size? I washed of course, multiple times, so no worries on that front. Oh! And I also brought you a towel. So you don’t have to sit on the table like that, can’t imagine that it would be too comfortable. So… yea!”

The human was smiling and looked incredibly proud of their ideas and improvisation. Jon held back an eye roll. His annoyance had to wait when he watched their fingers wrap around the thimble before they moved it towards him. Jon thought he would have gotten out of their reach, but of course he didn’t. They just had to lean over the table a little. He held his breath and flinched away as they placed the metal way closer than necessary. The towel followed immediately after, placed on his other side. At least the hands left immediately afterwards, not lingering around for any additional touching which made Jon take a deep breath again. He eyed the towel for a moment. It was getting uncomfortable against the wood so he appreciated that the human was at least somewhat concerned about his comfort, even if they weren’t before. Unless they thought a stuffy pocket made for a comfortable seat. Then he leaned towards the smell of food and looked at the contents of the thimble. It was filled to the brim with some kind of cream soup, like the human had said. He couldn’t begin to guess what was in it, its beige colour didn’t hint at anything either.

A scraping sound made Jon flinch and look up to see the human had pulled their own bowl closer before they picked up their spoon. They didn’t give him his own, but he luckily had a pair taken with him. He was about to turn back to grab one of them, but they spoke up again so he froze. It somehow didn’t feel right to acknowledge his bag under their direct attention.

“Oh, I also realised I never got your name, do you have one? I’m Martin.”

The question took him by surprise and he blinked, staring for a moment. Should he tell them? He wasn’t keen on letting a human know anything about him, but he couldn’t see how they would twist this knowledge to their advantage. Once he noticed that he was still staring he cleared his throat.

“Yes. J-Jon, it’s Jon.” He answered.

Martin beamed from ear to ear, so bright it shouldn’t feel this genuine. “Nice to meet you then, Jon!”

It felt weird to hear his name spoken by human lips. They shouldn’t know about him at all, much less make introductions over dinner. He pushed the feeling of wrongness and unease down and wanted to go for his spoon. He still didn’t feel much like eating, but he could use the energy. This evening had been exhausting. Still the human couldn’t stop talking. It was getting a bit annoying, couldn’t they at least extend the smallest bit of civility and leave him in peace for a moment?

“Oh, was that in your bag? Is that how you get around?” Martin leaned over the table and closer. They pointed at his rope and hook and were already reaching out. “Can I look at it?”

Jon’s eyes widened. Were they going to take it away from him, his only means of transportation? He immediately picked up his gear and protectively hugged it to his chest. “N-no, please don’t touch it.”

“Oh.” Their hand stilled and pulled back. “Ah...Sorry. Okay. I won’t.”

He held it close and watched Martin’s movements, who was looking down at their bowl. They picked up their spoon again and started eating, carefully blowing on the soup to cool it. The sight of watching a human eat made Jon grimace so he turned away. Catching only a very quick glance to make sure they weren’t staring at him so he finally could get to his bag. He hid the rope in it and searched through for his silverware. The spoon had been around for a while, ever since he still lived with his grandma, but was still in great condition. He used his fingers to clean off any lint it might have picked up from his clothing. Normally he would give it a wash but he didn’t exactly have access to running water at the moment.

Another cautious glance at Martin and then one at the towel. He quickly weighed pros and cons and decided he might as well sit there instead of the wood. Jon kneeled and dragged his bag to the edge of it first, then went to grab the thimble. All the while doing little glimpses at the human, just to be sure. Their eyes met for a moment and both of them quickly looked the other way. With a little push Jon sat on the edge of the towel, making sure his bag was right next to him. It touched his leg which felt comforting. Looking down himself he realised his coat was probably making the towel dirty under him. Just like the pocket. When he looked up at it he shuddered at the memory. He bit his lip, willing to ignore his unease at least slightly and pulled the thimble into his lap. It was very warm, almost too warm when his bare fingertips touched it, so he felt somewhat grateful his bandages could act as oven mitts. Jon stared down at the soup. It still didn’t give anything away, not even when he put his spoon in it and stirred around. It must have been blended if it didn’t have any bits in it. Which made him frown a little, he liked those.

Still, at least Martin wasn’t going to make him starve, which was at least a vague improvement over the image of humans Jon had made in his head. He thought of looking up, checking to see if they were staring him down again with their huge eyes, but the way their spoon scraped at the bowl and the way he heard overflowing soup drip down from it into the bowl was enough evidence that they should be busy. He also didn’t need to see them shovel food in their mouth. Jon took a deep breath and picked up his own spoonful, much smaller in comparison and appropriate in size. He gave it a sniff, but he couldn’t place it onto anything besides general vegetables. Carefully he mimicked Martin and blew on it before hesitantly putting it in his mouth.

He wasn’t sure what he expected, but this was pleasantly surprising. Anxiety and unease were still there, after all Martin was right here, but with one spoon he suddenly felt a bit more open to the idea of food. He ate more, swirling the soup in his mouth to try and guess at the taste. There was definitely some potato on it. Jon got brought out of his guessing games when Martin let out a sigh and pushed the bowl away, the loud sound and tremors of it startling him. They looked over to him and smiled, but Jon just felt nervous under their gaze.

“How is it? Do you like it?” Martin asked.

The borrower eyed the huge bowl for a moment. Did they eat all of that already? Then they went upwards again to the huge eyes and he nodded shyly. He would have lied if he didn’t anyway, as not to upset them.

Their smile grew. “Oh, I’m glad then.”

Jon averted his gaze and suddenly it felt too hard to eat again. But if he just stopped eating now it would look like he’d been lying so he forced himself to have a few more spoons, trying to swallow the feeling of sickness down. Comparing the full thimble to what he held now he did have more than he planned to eat so he felt fair to stop eating, putting it off his legs and next to him. He almost expected it to be taken away immediately, but when he looked up they were even looking the other way. Quickly he took the time to lick the spoon clean and put it away. Their hand was resting against the table and Jon cringed when they started drumming against it again. Luckily the towel saved him from feeling the blund of those tremors, making them more dull. He still tensed up either way.

“Right so… Sorry, but I am a little bit curious, so… what are you exactly?” They asked, sounding a bit nervous.

Jon’s eyes widened, because of course they wouldn’t just stop at his name. They would press for more answers until they were satisfied. And he couldn’t guess at how many were needed to quench the curiousness in their big eyes. He was staying silent and the longer he did the more they frowned. Anxiety rose up in him as he shrank back. Would they force him to answer if he didn’t do it willingly?

They adjusted their glasses and looked away. “Ah, sorry, if-if this is a touchy subject for you, I-... you don’t have to answer, if you don’t want to.”

He stared at them and when they looked back he held eye contact, searching for the evidence of a lie in their face. It seemed devoid of it, though. With a deep breath, bracing for the worst, he looked away again.

“I uh, I don’t.” Jon was barely able to keep his voice at a reasonable volume. He noticed his heart rate had picked up speed.

“Alright, that’s cool. Sorry again for asking.” Martin sounded fine and cheerful as before and painfully genuine in their words. Could humans lie this well? “Can I ask what you were doing out in the rain, then?”

It seemed their questions weren’t going to stop. He didn’t really want to upset them by refusing to answer more of them. Jon supposed this one should be fine if he didn’t give details.

“I was moving.” He answered eventually.

“Oh, like in general? I mean i saw that, but-”

Jon bit down an annoyed groan and interrupted them. “Places. I was moving places.”

“Oh, oh yeah that makes more sense.” Martin nodded to themself, then raised an eyebrow. “Only with that backpack, though?” They were looking past him, at the bag.

He felt a tightness grow in his chest at the attention focused on it and pulled it just a little bit closer, afraid they might take it again. “Y-yes?” He swallowed hard.

Their curious gaze dropped and he almost pointed their new expression to sadness, but it was pity. Pressing their lips together they nodded again. Jon couldn’t help but stare, confused what would give them such a reaction.

Martin sighed and a slow and careful smile crept on their lips again. “Sorry, sorry, I’m just boring you with questions here.” The smile grew, but there was still some pain behind it. “You can ask some back if you want?”

That was a surprising suggestion and made Jon halt for a moment. At least they didn’t want to keep the conversation one-sided, even if Jon could have done without it in the first place. Still if they were more interested in talking he supposed it was far far better than being picked up. He couldn’t deny how much less his fear was present when he wasn’t being touched, with the constant threat and horror of what their fingers could do to him. As for questions, he didn’t have much to ask. Didn’t care about their person or home because as soon as he could he would run away and never see it again. Yet there was the burning question on his mind of what they would do with him next. They had taken him with them for some reason. He feared for the answer, but felt the right to know.

Jon sucked in a very shaky breath. “Wh-what are you going to do to me?”

“What?” They asked in confused surprise.

His eyes narrowed in resentment. Were they this keen to toy with him and play dumb? Slowly growing bitterness rose up in his throat and suppressed his fear temporarily, making his words clear.

“You kidnapped me, why?”

Jon expected anger, humour or annoyance even, but Martin looked completely taken aback. Their mouth hung open and their eyes slowly widened in shock. He had apparently knocked the breath out of them as well. Shock faded and their expression turned to one of sorrow.

“Oh god. I didn’t- I didn’t realise, I- I’m so sorry.” They had their eyes glued to him. “You looked like you were cold, so I thought I… I am so sorry.”

Martin’s shoulders fell slack in his apology and with the sadness in their eyes it all looked painfully genuine. He felt his jaw quiver and shut it tight, turning his head away. His arms went to wrap around himself tightly. If they were so sorry, why would they have done it in the first place? Were they really stupid enough to make such a ‘mistake’? A tightness in his chest grew as he got more tense. But then Martin surprised him.

“I can take you back. If you want.”

The suggestion stunned him. As if someone cut a string, he felt his tense muscles slack. His head whipped up and stared at Martin’s eyes intensely, trying to search for the glister of their ulterior motives. But there was nothing and in the tone of their voice it sounded true. Or was it all a joke? Perhaps they were lying to him, for their own cruel fun. Jon noticed his lingering gaze and open mouth, so he closed it and swallowed.

“Really?” He asked carefully, a tint of hope behind his words “R-right now?”

“Yes.” They said without hesitation.

Once more Jon was lost for words. Somehow he really didn’t think they were lying anymore. Still he sat in silence for a moment, seeing if they wouldn’t change their mind. But they didn’t. He slowly let his head drop, until he was looking at the wood by his feet. Conflicted feelings rose up in him of anger and fear and bitterness and ire and he couldn’t manage one to focus on. Their apology, while surprising, didn’t change the fact of what they had done. The awful manhandling that would burn a memory into his skull that would keep him awake for many nights to come. But the fact that they sounded properly sorry about it didn’t sit right.

Humans were awful. Borderline monsters that posed an even greater threat to borrowers than a storm or housepet. Or at least they had to be, right? Of course he had no comparison, being usually extremely careful to stay hidden, but he’d heard enough stories that described them. Horrendous ones. Were those fake? Or was Martin just strange? Jon let out a long deep sigh dropping his arms into his lap. He felt exhausted, physically and now mentally, from the rollercoaster ride the human was sending his emotions on.

When he briefly glanced up Martin was leaning back against their chair, waiting for an answer. Instead Jon pressed his lips thin, kept silent for longer and turned his gaze towards the window. It was still raining, an occasional gust of wind blowing raindrops against the glass, meaning it had picked up. He’d been paying attention towards Martin so much he was only now noticing the stronger wind outside. Rain was one thing and in the streets he would always find enough covers to hide under, but wind was a bigger problem. If it swept him off his feet, it could seriously injure him.

He looked down at his bandages. Even if barely, he could still at least limp, he could still move forward, but if he got knocked over or blown into something and his other leg got hurt he might be done for. Jon wanted to groan at the thought. He didn’t want to admit it, but going outside now would be a death wish, which he was not very keen on. Martin didn’t seem to want him dead at the moment and he could hope they would keep their feelings that way. Jon let out a long sigh, deciding his answer.

“I uh,” He began, another sigh. “I think it might be better to wait out the rain.”

But he obviously couldn’t let the proposition slip entirely. Being held was horrible, but if it was his only way to freedom, he thought he might be able to endure it.

They were about to speak up again so he quickly interrupted. “But, a-after that?”

They let out a long breath, sounding a bit relieved. “Of course, yea.”

Martin’s shoulders dropped and their brows furrowed as they eyed the growing storm outside. “Waiting out for the rain is probably the smartest idea, you’re right. Especially since you travel by foot.”

If Jon didn’t feel so tense and tired he might have snapped back. There wasn’t exactly any other way for him. Were they expecting him to catch a ride in a car? Or even more humorous: drive one himself?

They smirked, but there was more pity underneath. “You don’t even have an umbrella.”

That one made him raise an eyebrow. They really were expecting him to have human luxuries. “I have a jacket.” He stated bluntly.

“Oh, true, true… though that’s not really the same thing.”

“It serves its purpose well.” Jon defended it, a hint of bite behind his voice.

Martin hummed in response, eyeing his jacket with a small smile. He did as well, though less amused, looking down, and remembered the state it was in. It didn’t look the part at the moment but it was pretty and extremely functional. Without it he would have surely frozen to death long ago. Though he wasn't cold at the moment. It was still open from when he needed to cool down inside the stifling air of the pocket and he looked at this warm green sweater underneath. Human places had the comfort of heating and with the warm soup from before he couldn’t lie that it was getting a bit warm. He almost started shrugging it off before he stopped himself.

No. The idea felt wrong. Like he was getting comfortable. Like he was just meeting up with a friend and hanging it up so they could chat. Now that he paid attention to it, his anxiety did feel more dim. But he was still in the same room as a human, right under their gaze as well, he couldn’t let his guard down. Jon stared their way for a moment, focusing on the hands and recalling what they felt like when they wrapped around him. His chest tightened, feeling an increasing weight on it as his muscles stiffened up. He couldn’t be calm, he had to stay alert.

His growing resentment for the human was getting more obvious. And he’d always had issues about having the last word. Along with the pressure of anxiety on his chest was the arising need to say something that he couldn’t hold down.

“Besides, umbrellas aren’t easy to manufacture.” Jon argued.

Martin hummed again, nodding. “I guess so… I mean, I bought mine, I couldn’t make one myself either. And I guess they don’t really make them your size.”

Jon gave them a look, searching for an argument back, but the conversation felt finished. So he just gave them a small unsatisfied ‘Hm.’ and looked down. Why was he arguing with a human again?

Before he could think more about it, excited ‘Oh!'s interrupted and startled him.

“You could use a leaf!” They exclaimed, an eager smile on their face.

At that Jon scoffed and crossed his arms, an amused smile only suppressed by his annoyance at human ignorance. “A leaf? No, too heavy and impractical.”

Martin let out a sad agreeing noise and looked down. They put their elbow on the table so they could rest their chin in their hand. As always Jon startled at their motion, the thought of such a giant being moving so quickly not sitting right with him.

“I guess…”

That one felt more like a win, seeing them defeated, and a small part of him felt proud. But noticing how his proudness was making him more calm he pushed it down.

He waited for a moment, as if the conversation would pick up again, but it didn’t. It was a tiny relief, he shouldn’t be speaking to them at all anyway. But there was something about feeling like he’d beaten them. Their gaze wandered away, lost in thought as they stared at the window. He didn’t follow them, instead turning away to eye the room again. It was still just a normal living room, furniture where Jon had come to expect it from human homes. The wooden floor looked old, cracks and crevases barely hidden. He stared at it, as if it could help him get out of here, as if he could just think about it and he would suddenly be down there instead of trapped on this table.

Which the human didn’t care about, of course. It was likely their plan anyway. Jon wasn’t sure if he wanted to check if they were staring at him again, but before he got a chance to choose, a huge movement made his head snap towards them. Martin was just readjusting, taking the arm down and hiding it under the table again. He wondered if they knew how obnoxious and unnecessary their movement was for Jon, who was getting sick of tensing up each time.

He looked around, noting the decoration and accumulating messes, which was normally a pleased sight to a borrower. A messy human would notice missing things less.

In another world Jon could have imagined living here, where he’d never gotten caught and moved here on his own. Not be transported in a pocket. Against his judgement he glanced at it and he was reminded of being dangled above it and carelessly dropped inside. How his dirty soles had slipped on the fabric and his bloody palm gave it colour.

“You uh, might want to give the pocket a wash.” He stated.

“Hm?” Martin raised their eyebrows, confused, then looked down. They took a hold of the fabric with two fingers and winced at the sight inside. “Oh. Oh! Yes, hah, I wouldn't want my colleagues to ask why I have tiny footprints in there. Right.”

They gave the pocket two paps and looked the other way. “Sorry.”