Work Text:
“Hello.”
For being the first thing to pierce the freezing silence that had been creeping into him for the past few hours, Evbo’s voice was strangely giddy. There were notes of confidence, too, notes of intent, but his grin was audible.
Infume scowled. He was cold. And uncomfortable. And in a slightly bad mood, but not enough not to sigh softly.
“…hi.”
“How we doing?”
He couldn’t really see, in the darkened room, but Evbo seemed to come closer to him. Infume could feel his warmth. It made him shiver again, fingers pressing into bare arms, bitterly missing the layers of his costume that kept him warm.
“Cold.”
He sounded whiny. He sounded pissed, and he was, but that was dangerous right now.
Infume would like to be clear. He didn’t normally get kidnapped by his mentees. He didn’t take them on too often at all, and Evbo was making him think this would be his last for a while.
Presuming he survived this. Infume was remaining hopeful. Maybe that was whatever Evbo had drugged him with, after their last training session, still lingering in his system after however long he’d been out, or maybe it was the isolation in here getting to him.
But Evbo wouldn’t hurt him.
“Baby, that’s not an emotion.” Evbo sighed, and Infume could feel that, a faint warmth ghosting past his cheeks. “How are you?”
“I… I’m alright.” Infume shifted, hugging his knees from a slightly different angle, taking refuge in the wall pressed against his back. “Tired.”
“You can sleep.”
Infume nodded, slightly, and tried not to shiver. He was sure Evbo didn’t even have cameras, in this room. He could do whatever. But it was hard to sleep, on wooden floor with ice seeping through the air.
“I brought food.” Evbo softened, petting his hair fondly, and Infume heard a small gasp from himself at the warmth. “Oh, that- was adorable. Can you do that again? Please?”
Evbo was mocking him. Infume could feel it, and humiliation would have been burning in his cheeks, if there had been enough warmth left in his blood. He was normally in charge. Sort of. Evbo might be older, and more sociable, and more commanding, but Infume had been meant to be the mentor between them.
Whatever Evbo had decided they were now was scaring him.
The back of his mentee hero’s fingers brushed against his cheek, and Infume whined, his dignity almost giving out like wet cardboard and driving him to nuzzle into Evbo’s hand. Almost. He was still more scared than he was desperate.
“Adorable.” Evbo giggled, and set something down, crouching in the dim light, before straightening entirely. “So you know, I’ll be back soon. Don’t miss me too much.”
Somehow, Infume held his tongue as Evbo crossed the room, and slipped through the door again. It was no fancy setup. He just opened the door, which must have been unlocked this whole time, and the thud of a bolt back into place felt like another chisel through his chest turning to ice.
Infume should have run. The realisation came like meltwater, running down his spine as he hunched forwards, breathing out crystals into the gloomy air. Tears stung at his eyes, feeling like they froze on the spot. He wished he could have run. But he was so cold, and so tired, and so scared, of all of this, which he should never have let happen.
Maybe it was his fault, that he’d let this happen at all. There must have been signs. He should have noticed. Or maybe he had noticed, and ignored them, because he liked Evbo, liked his company and his pushiness and his adoration and jealousy and sharp tongue.
Infume liked Evbo.
Evbo had liked him too much.
Now, he’d let this happen. He was a useless hero, if he couldn’t even save himself. From his own mind, if nothing else, the creeping chill of his own thoughts freezing in place, trapping him in the idea that this wasn’t worth escaping, because Evbo was still here, and he was kind, and Infume had basically asked for something like this.
He was sure Evbo had even said. Given warning, maybe, in his own way. It had all been moving fast, before he’d slipped too far on the ice and ended up here, too fast for him to notice Evbo’s escalating comments, his laughter turning harsher, his eyes never leaving Infume even as they worked. He’d said, that he wanted to keep Infume forever. That he was a good mentor, and a better friend, and that had made Infume so lightheaded on the ever-dizzying high of being wanted that he’d forgotten to take the things they said to each other seriously.
He wasn’t sure Evbo took it seriously, either. It was some kind of game, to him. A story he could play out, where the plot excused all, and Infume was his adored sidekick.
Burying his face in his knees, Infume breathed out shakily, trying to get some warmth back under his skin. He was never going to be able to sleep like this. And he wasn’t eating, not if Evbo wanted him to. It felt wrong, not to push back a little. Even if it hurt, not to play along with his mentee’s games.
Evbo had to give this up. Whatever his plan was, Infume felt like he was breaking too quickly for it to even matter.
He was meant to be the strong one. He wasn’t meant to let Evbo make mistakes like this.
But Evbo had always been so certain he knew what he wanted, and Infume wasn’t sure he’d ever have been able to resist.
——————
It had taken Evbo a day or so, to realise he wasn’t eating.
Long enough for Infume to get colder, and start passing out. Long enough to get through the stage where hunger had given him an edge, and he’d mapped out every inch of the room with his vision blurry and hands shaking, and found nothing he could work with without even his gear. He missed his gear.
It had been long enough without it for his energy to run dry, to the point where he could feel himself burning calories the longer he sat here shivering. It was a terrible resistance. He was upsetting himself, and now Evbo was upset too, somewhere beside him, figuring out he hadn’t touched a single plate of food.
It wasn’t the worst feeling. Infume didn’t like to eat much, anyway. It helped being a hero, and his own budget, if he went light on everything. He’d been hungry before. Sometimes he let Evbo buy him food, if they’d had a good day. He’d always been too scared to offer to pay it back.
“Infy…”
The absurd nickname stuck in Infume’s throat, which was stupid, because Evbo had been the one to say it. But the way he sighed, the way he sounded so calmly frustrated, the way it bordered on loving. It stuck to him like honey.
“You kidnapped me.”
“And you were meant to be eating.” Evbo stood up, not angry, exactly, but something, and Infume felt even colder than the maximum he’d thought he’d reached hours ago. “Why aren’t you eating?”
It didn’t fit his story. Infume felt guilty, which was ridiculous, but Evbo sounded so genuinely worried for him. He managed a small shrug, still curled against the same wall. He didn’t really have the energy to move. Or talk.
“Are you sick? Hurt? Please tell me if you’re hurt, I’m not… trying to hurt you, it’s okay.”
Infume’s vision turned to static, for a moment, as his thoughts cut out. Every time something in him shifted, even just a few shades towards a dizzying emotion he couldn’t quite muster, everything else seemed to black out.
Evbo caught him, as he must have started to fall, holding him carefully in place as Infume went rigid with the warmth so close to his skin.
“Was this to get at me?” Evbo was getting harsher, now, which was strange, because Infume was doing exactly nothing to provoke him. “It’s worked. Were you hoping I’d let you go?”
A small shake of his head, and Infume would have said anything, to keep Evbo’s burning hands on his face. It felt like pressing a block of ice against his tongue, feeling the startling temperature differential bond together in a way that was painful to remove.
And besides, he’d known it wouldn’t work. He’d just wanted to. Out of spite, or misery, of self-hatred.
“Was it to hurt yourself?”
That earned a shrug, and Evbo’s fingertips were digging into his cheeks. Infume whined, slightly, blinking up through the darkness and finding nothing beyond the fuzz in his own vision.
“Ok. Can’t believe I’m giving you choices, baby, but I am. If you want to carry on with whatever this is, then fine, you can stay here and be miserable. I will not let you hurt yourself.”
That sounded fine. Bearable. The other option was going to be torture, or some rhetoric about Evbo leaving him to die. He wouldn’t.
“Or you can come with me.” Evbo dropped his voice, feigning his offhand, cheerful offering to buy them sandwiches at the end of a day. “And we can be okay together. Is that ok?”
That… wasn’t torture.
That didn’t sound like torture at all.
It sounded like getting to spend time with Evbo, and Infume would give the world for that, after so long in paralysingly lonely cold and dark and silence. His desperation must have shown in his body, pressing into Evbo’s touch in an instant, trying to summon the energy to nod.
Evbo wouldn’t really hurt him. This was just a silly game, and Infume trusted his mentee to call the shots. Always, forever, because he’d be happy if he just got to hear Evbo laugh at something he’d said for the rest of his life.
He nodded like a needy puppy into Evbo’s hand, shivering and whining and starving for something that went past his bones, went all the way down to the centre of him where there was just an emptiness and he was so, so cold.
“…ok. I was… going to do this anyway, baby, it’s okay. I’m not- that angry.”
Infume keened, as Evbo pulled his hand away, but sat back in defeat, the lump in his throat threatening to choke him.
Then, Evbo was so close to him, so warm, burning hot, really, compared to how frozen Infume felt all the way down, and he didn’t even know where the heat was until he was being lifted to his feet, so carefully, and Evbo was supporting all of his weight somehow and still rambling in his ear.
“Relax, Infume, come on. I won’t drop you, you’re… it’s okay. You’re, uh- you’re okay, I’ll get you something to eat, and we can get warmed up and…”
Evbo trailed off. Or maybe Infume was passing out, coming and going in waves as his head spun places it shouldn’t be. Evbo didn’t seem concerned, with what standing up was doing to him, after endless hours hunched into a ball.
Infume figured he must be passing out, when his sense of touch started to go to, joining his sight and hearing.
——————
“Hey. You with me?”
No. He was not. He was shivering. And so fucking hungry it hurt.
Infume tried to rub his face, tried to sort out his blood trying to be in every place at once, but his wrists caught. He whined, tugging harder, and his wrists burned, skin oversensitive like he’d brought all his nerves to the surface with a magnet.
“Calm down.” Evbo laughed, just softly enough to quiet Infume too, and pressed his hands back down gently. “You’ll hurt yourself.”
Blinking up at him, Infume squinted, for a long time, feeling as bleary as a baby opening its eyes for the first time. Evbo looked normal. Casual normal. Hoodie, jeans, headband, smiling, everything must be fine.
But he was absurdly hungry, to the point where his thoughts seemed to be cannibalising themselves, and his hands were tied, and this must be Evbo’s apartment, and Infume narrowed his eyes more, lips twisting down as he sorted through it all.
“…f- fuck…”
His voice cracked, and Infume dropped his head. Everything was sore. This was the worst he’d ever felt, exhausted and shivering like a thousand tiny tremors injected millimetres below his skin, half-starved and miserable and without use of his hands.
“Hey, head up. You need to drink something.” Evbo’s fingers cradled his chin, forcing him to look back up, even if Infume was thoroughly done with having his eyes open. “Work with me, baby, come on…”
Infume wouldn’t dream of doing anything but. He was willing, for Evbo’s thumb to tug down on his chin, opening his mouth enough to get a glass between his lips, and pouring water slowly enough to give a chance for him to swallow.
For a moment, all Infume could hear was his own throat working, thirst growing as his body remembered everything it needed to function. There was so much he needed to do. He was starving, thirsty, freezing, exhausted and nauseous, and the only thing he could possible do was sit still and drink the water Evbo was giving him.
Eventually, Evbo decided they were done. Evbo. Evbo chose, setting aside the glass and wiping Infume’s face with his sleeve, almost but not quite meeting his wide, worried eyes, wondering if he was going to have to pay this back. It was so nice, just to sit here. It wasn’t what a hero should do.
“You’re okay.” Evbo spoke barely above a murmur, reaching for something else on the table Infume realised they were both sitting at. “I’ve got food, too. You look adorable.”
Infume frowned. He felt terrible. He tugged at his arms again, finding more slack than he’d expect. He glanced down, swallowing again around the strange sensation of hydration, and found short lengths of rope tethering his hands to wooden armrests. There was rope around his stomach, too, just loosely holding him in place. Not even enough for him to be aware of, unless he really tried to shift around, but more than enough to catch him if he tried to run.
That was it, though. Evbo hadn’t done anything else. Just tied him up, after bringing him to what looked like a normal kitchen, with warm lights and warm air and all the warmth Infume could ever want again to bask in, closing his eyes once more with a soft hum.
“You’re happy?” Laughing, Evbo ruffled his hair, and Infume felt some kind of sappy grin on his lips. “See, I knew you’d like this. Keep your mouth open for me.”
There was a joke, in there, but Infume was busy being warm and happy and playing along without a single thought, eyes still shut as Evbo fed him a small bite of pasta. With a small nudge from his mentee’s fingertips, Infume closed his mouth, letting Evbo pull the fork out before tapping his cheek to tell him to chew.
It tasted good. In an effort to communicate as much, Infume hummed incoherently, nodding in hopes it would convert what his voicebox wasn’t working with him on. It was nice pasta. Creamy, with some kind of herb, and shreds of chicken.
“It’s nothing weird.” Evbo petted Infume’s cheek as he spoke, making sure he swallowed right. “Boring things, how you like it.”
That got a protesting grumble, as Infume’s filters were rapidly dropping, lured away by warmth and food and warmth, in more ways than he could define. He ate exciting things. Sometimes. Not often.
“Shut up and eat your pasta.”
Giggling, Evbo pushed another forkful into his mouth, ignoring Infume’s slight resistance. He’d stopped chewing, but he didn’t normally eat this fast. He normally ate with his phone, which Evbo had taken, or interspersed with wandering his apartment, which he wasn’t in right now. He needed some time to adjust.
Not that he got it, as he was pulled into a new routine another way, by carefully gentle metal prongs sliding back out past his lips, and chewing on command, going to far as to let Evbo touch his throat as he swallowed.
“…Good.” Evbo’s fingers rode over Infume’s windpipe, and he sounded so strangely calm, by his standards. “I mean it. You’re doing so well, Infume.”
Infume would take that. After a brief hesitation, he dropped all protests, and let Evbo feed him at his own pace, his fingers exploring everything he could reach in his small radius. He could just about touch the table. Nowhere near the bowl Evbo was feeding him from, one elbow propped under his mentee’s chin and a fond look in his eyes as he moved his other hand lazily back and forth.
It felt so good, to actually eat something. Infume could feel himself relaxing, all his warning systems dialling down as he had this need, at least, fulfilled. And he’d been given water, and he was so warm now, and everything was ok, really.
“Don’t fall asleep on me.” It was lighthearted, as Evbo wiped his mouth again, from where he must have been tuning out. “I… knew you worked too hard.”
Infume hummed noncommittally. He worked as hard as he was able. That was just more than most other people, and he should live up to those capabilities.
Besides, it was just because he’d been starving himself for a day or two. That was the only reason he was so compliant right now, feeling like his head was full of fluff, because he’d been cold and lonely and desperate.
Maybe there were a lot of things wrong with him. Infume was happy in his own choices of what to blame.
There wasn’t much else he was having to think about, right now.
Evbo didn’t make any other comments, either concentrating on the simple motions, or just enjoying Infume’s obedience, and the way he shifted every few bites to keep himself moving. The slack around his wrists was strange. Far from unappreciated, but Infume felt more tethered than actually restrained.
He felt halfway to actually alive again, by the time Evbo brushed over his face again, and pushed the bowl away. Infume stared at him, half asking to be babied for a while longer, half plain confusion about why Evbo was even doing this for him.
“Evbo…” His voice was soft and whiny, and Infume might have pawed at Evbo’s arm, if he’d had that much use of his hands. “Why… why are you doing this?”
It felt like a stupid question, and Infume stared stupidly at Evbo for a long moment, who didn’t betray the slightest surprise or concern. He just shrugged, setting the fork back in the bowl, and met Infume’s eyes.
“Because you helped me, and you’re special, and I… I want to take care of you.” Evbo smiled, just a little shyly, and shrugged. “You’re mine, anyway.”
Infume’s lips twitched. Humming, he nodded, letting his faintly sleepy smile show. That seemed reasonable.
It wasn’t like he didn’t trust Evbo, even now.