Chapter Text
You were one of the eleven survivors in this hellhole, and you were the newest. It was a repeating cycle of dodging, repairing generators, and dying, and at this moment, death felt very near.
Your heartbeat echoed in your head as the footsteps behind you grew closer. You didn't want to risk looking back; one wrong move could mean a machete in your chest, and avoiding mistakes was becoming harder as you kept running. The adrenaline from the initial chase had faded, and your steps were increasingly sloppy.
Your eyes darted around searching for an escape, a side room, or anything to get you out of your unfortunate predicament. You hated the hotel. It was too open for comfort, and the rooms were confusing—the playroom, the kitchen… Your eyes landed on exactly that to your left. Sending a silent prayer, you tried to sprint faster. You braced yourself and quickly jerked to the side. Too quickly. A sharp pain shot through your ankle and up your leg, causing you to topple over.
A gasp escapes your lips as you hit the floor hard. You flipped around to face the person hunting you. He stood over you, lifting his machete. Even if you can’t see his eyes, you could feel his cold gaze on you. There's nothing you can do now but sit and wait. Your ankle isn't in great condition, and your legs have practically given up, so there was no more running for you. You closed your eyes and hoped it was at least gonna be quick and painless.
There was a sound of the blade slicing the air before it abruptly cut off. You were lifted. Thrown off balance, you grabbed and pulled yourself towards the nearest surface. Cloth met your grasp as you held on.
You looked up and was met with the face a very stressed-looking Guest. He was faced ahead and mumbling curses under his breath, as he carried you bridal style. Despite this, he practically flew across the kitchen and into the playroom. His brows slightly furrowed as he paid full attention in front of him. You'd never seen him so focused before. Coming back to your senses fully, you realized you were practically squishing yourself against him.
“Sorry,” you apologized quickly before pulling away slightly. At least, as much as you could, you couldn't really go anywhere. There was an awkward silence for a bit before he finally spoke. You and Guest hadn't really talked before. The most you had done was exchange glances during rounds, though you've caught him staring a few times in the cabin as you waited for the next round.
“You okay?” He finally asked, breaking the silence. You felt his eyes on you, scanning you for injuries. You looked back up and noticed the slight pink tint on his face. However, it faded when he spotted the swollen ankle and various cuts on your arm and shoulder, which you hadn't noticed until now.
He turned the corner and gently placed you on the floor; you winced slightly as your foot hit the ground softly.
“Sorry, sorry.” Guest tensed slightly. He kneeled for a moment and looked towards the entrance of the hallway, listening for the sound of footsteps. Before turning back to you and assessing your wounds.
“Just a few cuts…twisted ankle…” he mumbled, then let out a sigh of relief. He unlatched the medkit from his belt and grabbed the gauze and wrap, then got to work.
“I'm going to lift your leg, okay?” You grit your teeth and nod. Pain shot from your ankle, and he propped it up on a nearby box.
“Good.” He delicately wrapped your ankle. Ever so careful not to hurt you more. He threw the center roll of the now-used bandages to the side. “How does that feel? Good? Does it hurt still?” He went on, his face showing nothing; only his eyes showed his worry.
“It's fine, it's fine. Thank you,” you responded. “I'll be okay.” You didn't want to be a burden, plus, there's bound to be other people he can help… hopefully.
“Your arm’s still bleeding,” Guest stated. “I'm helping.”
Why was he so stubborn, and why did he want to help you so bad? Does he have nothing else to do?
He moved closer and grabbed your hand. Though his palms calloused and rough, his touch gentle. With his free hand, he shuffled through the medkit. “Sh-t, I forgot how badly these medkits were stocked.” He sat thinking for a moment before reaching into his pocket and pulling out a flask. You tilted your head slightly, wondering how that could help. He popped off the lid.
“This is gonna sting for a moment,” He warned. It made more sense now; alcohol disinfects wounds.
“Ready?” He asked, his grip on your hand slightly tightened. Waiting for your approval. You nodded in response. He poured some on your shoulder, then some on your arm. The stinging brought tears to your eyes, and you squeezed his hand as the alcohol rinsed the wounds.
He screwed the lid back on the flask and let go of your hand—which disappointed you a little—and then started taking off his vest and combat shirt to reveal a black tank top underneath. You watched curiously. Your eyes locked onto the well-defined muscles of his chest and arms, flame-like scars coating up from his hands to his neck. He seemed to have noticed because his face returned to that slight shade of pink. Your eyes darted away, realizing you were staring.
Another awkward silence formed as he wrapped the combat shirt tightly over the cuts, securing it as a makeshift bandage. The proximity between you two not helping the tension-thick air. Once he finished, he sat down and leaned against the wall next to you, appearing deep in thought.
Finally breaking the silence. “How did you get here?” You asked.
“Huh?” He snapped back to reality, “Oh, uh. Explosion,” He looked at his hands, at the scars that coated them. “In the fight against the bacon empire.” He then chuckled softly, “l really went out with a bang.”
“Being all noble and stuff, huh?” You laughed a bit, and he smiled and rolled his eyes.
“What about you?” He asked, turning his head to face you.
You thought hard, trying to recall anything before this, and yet, nothing. “I… don't know, ” You confessed, “I can't remember…”
Guest gave a sympathetic look.
“I had a pretty average life, nothing exciting really,” You shrugged. “Even if I could remember how, I doubt it'd be anything as cool as the way you got here.” You turned to look at him, but he didn't meet your gaze. “Something on your mind?” You asked
“Sometimes I wonder what my life could have been like if I hadn't done what I did.” He stared at nothing, “I hope I did the right thing and it wasn't for nothing.” He sighed, placing his hands next to him.
Building up the courage, you placed your hand on his. You could feel his gaze on you as you spoke. “Everything happens for a reason. You did what you could in the moment, and that's enough.” You looked at him with a gentle smile. He faced forward, contemplating what you said.
“Guess I owe one to fate then—it tripped me up so I could land in your arms. “ Guest smiled and looked at you, clearly content with the thought that meeting you was the reason he ended up here. You laughed, a slight blush creeping on your face. You nudged him playfully, and he chuckled.
You saw that he had intertwined your fingers. You tried to remain calm and not seem to enthusiastic about this situation.
“Do you think we’re ever going to get out of here?” You asked, dreading the answer.
“I'm not sure,” he sighed. “We can't lose hope; It's the only thing we have.” He turned to you, his grip on your hand tightened. “Be strong, always be strong.” He waited for you to respond, to promise.
“I will,” you replied, nodding.
“Guest!” Someone called from the other room, “We could use you here!”
“Damn it,” Guest stood up, “I'll be back, promise.” He kissed your hand and let go. Before bolting off to the room he was called.
You watched him as he left. You were definitely going to get questioned once this round ended.