Chapter Text
He was done.
Holy shit he was so so fucking done.
He couldn’t do this anymore. He couldn’t stand around and pretend Verity was anything other than some insane and psychotic monster anymore.
He couldn't do anything anymore. Literally. Any choice, word, thought, or action that went against Verity’s wishes was shot down instantly, and if mob dared disobey that then…
…
Whatever. He didn’t need to think about that anymore.
He was leaving, for real this time.
No matter what Verity threw at him he was going to do this.
Verity had been silently watching until Mob opened the chest. That was when he seemed to realise Mob was serious
“Mob please don’t leave me”
He turned around, risking a glance into Verity’s eyes.
They just showed the same vacant black abyss they always did. With the same twisted, mocking smile.
He hated that smile.
But he also knew if he kept looking at it he’d lose all resolve and go back to what was easy, being Verity’s little pet.
“Mob don’t do this you need me”
He rummaged through the chest, trying to find where he’d put all his torches.
“Mob please listen to me we need each other”
Verity’s voice pierced through his mind.
He forgot what he was looking for. He kept rummaging anyway, just to make a point.
“Mob.”
What was he looking for? He felt like a child covering their ears to ignore the world around them.
“Mob. Please.”
Torches, that was it.
..
There were no torches here
“Mob, are you even listening to me? Please don’t leave me.”
He needed to keep moving. Maybe if he kept moving Verity would realise there really was no changing his mind.
Maybe then he would have a chance of actually being left alone once he left the house’s walls.
He searched around the room frantically. He would take the torches off the ceiling if it meant he could leave even a second faster at this point.
“I need you here with me.”
He turned on his heels to the other side of the room.
He yanked open another chest, random items spilling out of it as he did.
Fucks sake
Why weren’t there any torches?
“Verity.” Before he had realised who he had called to.
He wanted to take it back as soon as he put the name out there.
“Talking to me now are we?”
Mob clenched his jaw.
…
“Where are the torches?” He said through gritted teeth
…
Mob turned to face Verity again. Still smiling.
The yellow orb turned to face the storage closet, reluctance still somehow showing despite his expression.
Mob followed his direction.
Of course. The storage closet. The one place he hadn’t looked.
He resisted the urge to swear as he made his way over.
The door creaked open
…
It’s a lot smaller in here than he remembered.
He swallowed thickly, willing that thought away.
He just needed the torches, then he could leave this room.
And then the house.
Forever.
He just-
*CLICK*
Huh?
That didn’t sound like a chest.
His pulse seemed to stumble over itself as he turned back towards the source of the sound.
The door was shut.
He crossed the closet space in 2 long steps, he grabbed the handle and twisted it.
No.
He rattled the handle harder, yanking at it and shoving the door with his shoulder.
No.
He kicked the door, making a loud crashing noise which served no purpose except to startle himself.
No. No. no no no nononononono-
The door wouldn’t move
His stomach dropped.
Okay - Okay. Maybe he was being too rough with it.
He needed to calm down.
He breathed in a single stuttering breath.
He laughed sharply.
No.
No, that wasn’t funny.
He felt the wall against his arm.
Was that there before?
The room really was a lot smaller than he remembered it.
He needed to make himself smaller
That way the room would seem bigger.
...
No fuck that.
He needed to leave.
He wanted out.
He tried the door handle again. Nothing.
What the fuck?
That monster.
That stupid yellow ball had locked him in.
He hit the door, slamming and pushing it relentlessly.
The room was way too small.
He wanted to scream at Verity to let him out.
He didn’t want to give Verity the satisfaction.
He stopped suddenly.
The rattling of the door handle faded.
He stood suddenly, frozen.
Verity had actually locked him in.
Too many thoughts filled his mind instantly
What was Verity’s plan here?
Surely he had to let him out at some point, right?
He turned back around, facing the room.
He felt physically sick. His breathing picked up again and he spun back towards the door, refusing to look at the seemingly-shrinking closet again.
He wrenched the handle again, holding it with such force he felt it could break in his hands.
He threw his fists at the door, again, as if his life depended on it.
What was he thinking earlier?
It didn’t matter.
All that mattered to him was getting the fuck out of here.
He slammed his shoulder into the wood.
The pain of the impact shot through his arm, knocking him onto the floor,
Where he sat,
Hopelessly.
The silence felt nearly as suffocating as the room he was trapped in.
Verity hadn’t said anything.
He was probably just listening.
Listening to Mob struggle.
Through his panicked haze he realised the only way he could get out is if Verity let him out.
Mob’s stomach twisted
He was not going to beg.
“Open the door.” He said, forcing all assertiveness he could gather into his tone.
His hands started shaking, from fear or anger, Mob didn’t know.
No response.
“Verity.” He flinched as heard his voice wobbling slightly.
Nothing
“This isn’t funny.”
He knew Verity wasn’t joking.
His breathing stopped altogether.
“Im serious, Verity this isn’t fucking funny”
He kicked at the door again, hoping for it to splinter into a million pieces on impact.
Nothing.
“Verity open the FUCKING DOOR.”
He knew he sounded insane.
He shook the handle again uselessly.
Still, no response.
“VERI-”
He cut himself off, the words suddenly catching in his throat.
The anger drained out of his voice, replacing itself with raw desperation.
“Verity..”
He wished he could force answers out of Verity the way Verity did to him.
He let go of the door, still refusing to look away from it at the small space he was enclosed in.
“Verity… let me out.” He sounded miserable now.
He would do anything to be let out of here.
He couldn’t let Verity know this of all things was his weakness.
“Verity…”
Fuck
“Please.” He said, resigned.
“I can’t Mob, if I do, you’ll leave me.”
Initial relief crashed so hard his knees nearly gave out. Thank god.
…
No
Wait.
Not thank God.
He had just admitted it
Verity had locked him in. Verity was not letting him out.
Holy fuck.
He was going to die in here, his mind irrationally supplied.
He couldn’t draw in a complete breath.
He couldn’t articulate his panic enough for it to get across.
Calm down he kept repeating to himself mentally
Verity surely wouldn’t actually let him die, right?
Verity needed him. He had said so himself earlier.
Breathe.
Verity loved him, he said that one as well, didn’t he?
Verity was obsessed with him. He hadn’t said that but it was obvious.
...
Verity had locked him in a closet.
...
His mind was torturing him.
What if he was kept in here for the rest of his life, kept alive?
He erratically shook the thought out of his head.
No matter what he thought, terror lurked in at every opportunity.
It felt like every time he didn’t pay attention, the walls closed in just a centimeter more.
Dread and despair settled in so heavy it felt physical.
“Mob? How are you doing in there?”
“I..” His voice collapsed in his throat again.
He couldn’t speak, he wouldn’t
He sunk down, back against the wall, holding himself together in a ball on the floor.
“Mob?” Verity sounded concerned
“Ve-...” The word broke apart before it had fully left his mouth.
He breathed in through his nose, sniffling slightly.
His face was wet.
He didn’t even realise he had started crying.
“See?”
Huh?
“This is why I can’t let you leave!”
“You aren’t safe by yourself, Mob.”
Mob couldn’t bring himself to say anything
His throat felt raw even though he hadn’t said much.
“You need me and you know it, deep down you know it.”
“You just don’t want to admit it to yourself.”
Mob focused on Verity’s voice.
Anything other than the closet.
Anything other than the walls.
He felt almost disgusted with himself.
He hated that Verity’s voice helped so much.
He hated that some part of him relaxed when he heard it.
He hated that, trapped in a room because of Verity, he still wanted to seek comfort from him.
“I really do love you, Mob.”
He realised that Verity had begun speaking in a lower, more soothing tone.
He appreciated it, as much as he hated to think it.
“Do you love me, Mob?”
He shook his head, before realising Verity couldn’t see him.
Good, if Verity had seen that mob would’ve been in a lot of trouble.
“I…”
Frustration settled in. Why couldn’t he speak.
“It’s okay, I know you love me too.”
…
He closed his eyes, no longer wanting to focus on anything.
He rested his head against the wall he was leaning on.
Verity hummed for a second. Feigning thinking.
“If I let you out…” he began
Mob hated how much he perked up just hearing the words ‘out’
He turned to fully face the door.
He realised that, dangerously, he would do anything to be let out of the closet.
“You’ll stay with me.” He said, more assertively than either of them had either sounded before.
“Right?” He prompted Mob to respond.
“Y…”
He thought about it for a second, before remembering he had no other ground to stand on. He couldn’t not accept this.
“...Yeah.”
Hope flared in his chest. Was Verity letting him out?
“Do you promise?”
“Y-Yeah.” He hated how weak he sounded.
“Say it.”
“..I promise.”
“What do you promise?”
“I promise I’ll stay”
“Forever?”
…
“...Yeah… Forever.”
There was a silence behind the door.
..
“Good.”
*CLICK*
…
The door opened.
Relief flooded through him
It took him a few moments to realise what he had just agreed to.
The sound should’ve felt like freedom.
He knew it meant the opposite.