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“I won’t even be five minutes,” Leorio says, grabbing the spare key from the console, “so you just sit tight, okay? Engine’s running, doors are locked, radio is all yours.”
And with that, Leorio is gone, shutting the car door with a thud that’s inexplicably deafening.
And the lock clicks behind him.
And then Alluka’s inside. Inside and alone.
And despite the music playing over the radio, the car somehow seems eerily silent. The air grows stuffy and stagnant, nearly choking her, and she grabs at her seatbelt, suddenly far too tight, pressing on her chest until she can hardly draw breath.
It’s fine, Alluka tells herself, but even though she isn’t speaking aloud, the words somehow still carry a near hysterical tremble. Leorio’s just picking up a book you put on hold at the library. Not even five minutes—that’s what he said, right? You’re safe.
But her reassurances sound hollow even to herself. All that matters is that Leorio left, shut the door, and locked it behind him. All that matters is that Alluka’s confined again.
For the most part, Alluka tries not to dwell on the years of her childhood that she spent locked away, alone, imprisoned in a windowless room for crimes she couldn’t even begin to understand. That was then, she tells herself, and this is now. Now, she has a brother who dotes on her incessantly, friends kinder and more loyal than she ever could’ve dreamed, and the ability to feel the warmth of the sun on her skin whenever she wishes.
It’s no use remembering the claustrophobia, or the boredom that crawled along her skin as an unbearable itch, or the loneliness that she was convinced would rot her from her guts out.
Why would she call to mind the nights that she used to spend clawing at the door until her fingernails were left nothing but bloody shreds, screaming and begging to be let out? Why, when she now has everything she’d ever hoped for and extra to grow on?
That was then, she repeats. This is now.
But for all her attempts at reassurance, cold sweat trickles drop by drop down the slope of her spine.
That was then. This is now.
And for all of her tugging at the seatbelt, she’s only grown shorter of breath, until she finds herself gasping for air.
Look! Look out the window—you can still see the sky, can’t you? It isn’t the same as back then.
And a weight is pressing ever heavier on her chest, making every heartbeat hit her sternum like a kick drum.
It’s fine. I’m fine! There’s nothing to fear.
But her reassurances are pointless now—her thoughts have been overtaken by an incessant buzzing in her skull, loud enough to drown out any attempt at reason, and the panic finally engulfs her fully, and before she realizes it, she’s screaming and begging and clawing at the seatbelt, desperate to be free.
“Help me! Please! Help me! Let me out! Help!”
Alluka screams the same words, over and over between her frantic hitching breaths. She’s lost any sense of time—she might’ve been in the car for seconds, or for weeks, and her vision has gone so dark and narrow that she can’t see much beyond the tip of her nose. She’s drowning, struggling to keep herself afloat as she’s pulled deeper and deeper underwater. She needs to get out. That’s the only thought that’s clear amid the haze of hysteria. She needs to get out.
It’s the unexpected rush of cold air that finally brings her back to herself.
It’s like a slap to the face, harsh but grounding, so cold it burns her throat on the way down. And as Alluka draws breath after breath of that sweet, frigid wind, the vice gripping her rib cage relaxes its hold, and she can begin to breathe again, a shaky gasp at a time. And as her vision starts to clear and her surroundings come back into focus, she finds herself face to face with Leorio, standing at the open passenger side door with a look of abject horror on his face.
“What’s wrong?” he demands. “Are you in pain?”
Alluka is still too breathless to speak.
“Where does it hurt? Whatever it is, I’ll handle it, okay? You’re going to be just fine.”
Leorio’s hands graze over her face and down her arms, as if searching for injuries, and he tilts her head this way and that, checking each of her eyes intently.
He doesn’t want her to be hurt. He doesn’t want her screaming. He’ll do anything to ensure she isn’t afraid.
And with that realization, Alluka can speak again.
“That was the first time anyone came.” Her voice is hoarse from screaming, but not as shaky as she’d expected.
Leorio tilts his head.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean before. Before Killua rescued me, when I was locked in that room. I’d scream and cry and beg for someone to come open the door and let me out. But of course no one ever did. But you came. This time, I called for help and you came.”
A look of equal parts realization and horror passes across Leorio’s face, and a moment later, he’s thrown his arms around Alluka in a crushing hug.
“I’m so sorry,” he murmurs, hands stroking protectively over her hair. “I didn’t think. It’s so obvious—of course you wouldn’t like being locked in anywhere, even if you could get out. It sounds ridiculous now, but I just didn’t want to make you walk across the parking lot in the cold, so I thought you’d like it better if you could wait in the warm car. But I should’ve used my head. I’m so sorry.”
Alluka presses a kiss to Leorio’s cheek.
“It’s okay,” she says, and finds that she means it entirely. “You didn’t know. I don’t think I even knew, really. But now I know something else. That you’ll be here when I need you. That I can call, and you’ll come. And that’s the part that matters.”
Leorio pulls her into another hug, even tighter this time.
“Always,” he murmurs. “If you need me, I’ll be there. Always.”