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eternal-sunflowers · 2 days ago

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Fireside

Eddie’s elbow deep in the plant beds out back of the Byers-Hopper house, pulling out weeds and turning over the dirt and mulch, getting them prepped for Joyce’s next batch of plant seeds. He’s prepped the beds so many times at this point, he thinks he could do it in his sleep.

“Come on, you little shit.” Eddie grumbles, wrapping his fist around a particular stubborn weed. He digs down with his free hand, tries to dislodge more of the packed dirt lower down, before giving it a good pull. The weed pops free, and he tosses it on the debris pile before leaning back on his calves. “Finally.”

He takes off his gloves and tosses them down, pulls up his raggedy homemade tank top to wipe the sweat off his face. If he had to guess, it’s about a billion degrees out, and they’ve been working since, like, 7 AM, and all he fucking wants is a cigarette and about 4 glasses of water. And a shot of whiskey. And a joint. And a shower.

Maybe not in that order.

Basically, Eddie wants to be washed free of the detritus of Joyce’s garden, laying on the patio loungers, getting high or drunk for the rest of the night.

But, before he can even dream about that, they have to clear out all the debris. Planting is for another day, at least, thank fucking hell.

“Eddie, honey, are you done with that one?” Joyce calls across the yard from her own plant bed, head tilted as she looks over at him.

“Yes, ma’am. It’s all ready for your plantin’.” He smiles over at her, before slowly pulling himself up to standing, groaning as his muscles protest the movement, a few pops echoing through his body. He throws his arms up above him in a stretch. “Gonna clear up my space. Need any help with yours?”

She smiles back at him, throwing her hands in a shooing manner. “Oh, no, honey, you’ve done enough already. Go get cleaned up. Hop’ll have the grill up and cookin’ dinner by the time you’re out, hopefully, so you can just rest.”

Eddie leans down and starts throwing all the debris in the wheelbarrow propped up next to him. “You sure, Joyce? I don’t mind helpin’ finish up today so you’ll have an easier go of it when you start your plantin’.”

“I know, but you’ve already done plenty. Hell, you cleared most of the beds yourself.” She chuckles.

“I just wanna make sure they’re all ready to grow up some good shi– I mean, good stuff for the season. Nothin’ beats what your garden makes.” Eddie locks eyes with her, gives her a face-splitting grin. “Purely selfish intentions, I promise.”

She rolls her eyes. “Oh, I’m sure. Leave everything in the wheelbarrow. I’ll get Hop to dump it when I’m done loading mine.” She waves him off toward the house. “Now, go. Go shower and change so you can rest properly.”

Eddie ignores her, rolls the wheelbarrow over to her bed anyway and starts loading up her debris, but then she’s standing and physically pushing him toward the door. “Edward Munson, you are banned from my garden for the next 30 minutes.”

“Wha��not the full name, Joyce. I thought we were friends, how could you?” Eddie stumbles, caught off guard by just how strong she is. Fucking hell, no wonder this woman fought the end of the world and won, like, a billion times.

Hopper opens the door then, takes a step back when Eddie stumbles to a stop in front of him. He looks between Eddie and his wife, one eyebrow raised. “Any reason you’re delivering a sweaty Munson up to the door like this, Joyce?”

“He’s banned from the garden for a half hour, Hop. He’s been working all day and wouldn’t take a real break, so I’m forcing him to go get cleaned up so he can rest.” Eddie turns briefly to see Joyce glaring at Hopper.

Hopper just sighs. “Yeah, alright. Come on, Munson, you heard my wife.” He reaches out and grabs Eddie by the shoulder, pulling him into the house, only stopping long enough for Eddie to flimsily kick his shoes off before he’s, actually somewhat gently, pulling Eddie down the hall and pushing him into the bathroom. “You know where everything is. Don’t let me see you at the back door until,” Hopper turns, looks at the clock in the hallway, “at least 4:30, alright?”

Eddie stands there, a bit dumbfounded. “Yeah– yeah, alright, okay. Loud and clear, Hop.”

Hopper nods, goes to move away, before Eddie’s reaching out, grabbing him by the arm, much to both of their surprise, because what the fuck Eddie, that is the chief of police’s arm you are willingly grabbing, even if he is your pseudo-friend-thing now, what is wrong with you???

They both look down to where Eddie’s hand is still resting. Hopper breaks the silence first. “You gonna tell me why you’re touchin’ me, kid?”

Eddie snaps out of it then, releases Hopper’s arm. “Yeah, shit, sorry. Just, Joyce has also been workin’ long as I have out there today, and we both know she won’t admit this, and she’ll probably kill me if she finds out I told you, but she didn’t take any real breaks today either.”

Hopper raises his eyebrows at that, a bit of anger to his gaze. “You’re tellin’ me you let my wife work the last 9 hours in the sun without a break?”

Eddie’s own eyes widen, and he puts his hands up in front of him placatingly. “No, no, no. No, I kept tellin’ her to take a break, and she kept snapping at me about the beds needing to get done. I know Jonathan and Steve had to cancel on helping out today, and I tried to get her to reschedule, but she was hellbent on it.” He swallows, his eyes pleading earnestly. “I didn’t take a real break because she wouldn’t, and like hell was I about to let her do all that shit alone. I snuck in a few times and brought out some drinks and snacks, reminded her to go to the bathroom a few times, gave her some sunscreen and a cool towel, that kind of thing. Tried my damndest to get as many of the beds done myself as I could so she wouldn’t have to do ‘em.”

Eddie folds his arms across his chest and shrugs. “Just, I appreciate her lookin’ out for me and all, but I just wanna make sure she’s looked after too, and you’re the best person for that, man – sir, Hopper.”

Hopper just stares back at him for about 10 seconds. Eddie watches as Hopper’s expression changes from anger towards Eddie to frustration to what he’s hearing to sadness and to understanding.

“She ate anything today?” Hopper whispers.

“Yeah, brought her a couple sandwiches ‘round midday, some fruit and crackers and stuff a couple other times.”

Hopper grunts. “Right. Well, thanks, kid– Eddie. Thanks for lookin’ out for her. She’s, uh, not so great at doing it for herself, too busy lookin’ out for all of us idiots.”

Eddie laughs a little. “Don’t I know it. Best mom in town, probably in the whole damn world at this point.”

That earns him a smile and a nod from Hopper. “Yeah, she really is.”

They stand there for a second, a moment of quiet understanding passing between them. An appreciation for one strong as hell woman who’s fought too hard for too long, who they both know deserves some rest but won’t take it if isn’t forced upon her lovingly.

Hopper claps his hands, breaks the spell. “Right, well. You get cleaned up and meet us out back in half an hour, alright?”

“Will do. Thanks Hop.” Eddie nods, and Hopper walks off.

—-----------------------

Eddie’s leaned back in a lounger in the Byers-Hopper backyard, the sound of one of Hopper’s records carrying through the conversations happening around him. He’s got a cigarette perched between his lips, taking a beautiful drag when it’s ripped from him. “Hey! The hell?”

He cranes his neck up just in time to be met with the sight of his beautiful, gorgeous, too perfect for this world boyfriend taking a drag from the stolen cigarette. Steve smirks down at him. “Hi, babe.”

Eddie grumbles. “Could’ve just asked for one and I’d’ve given it to you.”

“This is more fun, though.” Steve takes another drag and leans down, eyebrow raised in a challenge.

Eddie rolls his eyes and leans up, meets Steve’s lips as he exhales directly into Eddie’s mouth. Eddie greedily inhales as he connects their lips in a burning kiss, humming out his approval.

Steve’s the first to pull away, a lazy smile on his face as he watches Eddie exhale their shared smoke.

Eddie matches his boyfriend’s smile, opens his mouth to speak before he’s pelted in the head with a packet of seeds. “Fuckin’ – who?” He turns as he hears the telltale laughter of one Jonathan Byers who’s slumping down in the chair beside him. “I’m wounded, Byers. If you wanted my attention, all you had to do was ask.”

“Not the kind of attention I want from you, Munson, believe me. I’m perfectly happy with my own.” He nods his head behind him to where Argyle is talking to Will and El about god-knows-what, but they seem very invested. “Yeah, that’s been happening for at least 10 minutes. I gave up paying attention and came to bother you two.”

“Ah, so we’re your second choice. Running theme there, Jonny.” Steve smirks, sits on the end of Eddie’s chair and stubs out the dwindled cigarette, before scooting up and leaning back against him so they’re curled up together.

“Oh, fuck off, Harrington.” Jonathan laughs, a full belly thing, but there’s no malice to it, just an easy sort of banter between friends.

Thank fucking hell, Eddie thinks. He’s beyond thrilled they’ve hashed out all their shit and are on better terms. All it took was the world trying to end a couple times, some intense fights, and a lot of fucking weed and talking. You’d never be able to tell they weren’t always best friends, now.

“So what can we do you for, Jonny boy?” Eddie asks, settling his arms around Steve, placing a kiss on his temple.

Jonathan pulls a couple joints from his pocket, holds them out between them. “Figured we could smoke a few, courtesy of Argyle. Shoot the shit while we wait for Hop to finish cooking.”

“Don’t gotta tell me twice.” Eddie pulls his arms back, pats Steve’s shoulder. “C’mon babe, let’s go smoke.”

Steve whines. “I literally just sat down.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. Were you the one out here all day working on the beds?” Eddie cocks his head, squints at Steve’s face. “No? Right, that was me.”

“I had to work too!” Steve throws his arms out in exasperation.

“And I had to prep a billion beds for planting so Jonny’s mom over here didn’t work herself to the bone. And now, he has so graciously brought over Argyle’s weed in what I’m assuming is a peace offering since he, too, ditched today.” Eddie turns his squinted glare on Jonathan.

“Wait, you didn’t show up either, man? You literally live here.” Steve stands up out of the chair, throws Jonathan a questioning look.

Jonathan sighs, a sheepish smile taking over his face. “Yeah, got called to a shoot in Indy and mom wouldn’t let me turn them down.” He turns to look into Eddie’s glaring eyes. “I tried to tell her to reschedule, but she wouldn’t, said you two would try to get half of it done today, and we’d all kill the rest of it tomorrow. I didn’t think she’d really try to do it all today. I’m sorry, man.”

“Yeah, well, she’s too stubborn for her own good.” Eddie drops his glare as he stands. “I did most of the beds, anyway. She only had to do a couple. But, my body is fucking wrecked, and I’ve been looking forward to getting high since about the third bed I worked on, so–” He holds his hand out to help Jonathan up.

Jonathan takes it and stands, throws his arm around Eddie’s shoulder. “I gotcha, man.”

“So, what is this delightful treat Argyle has brought us today?”

“Pineapple Haze.”

Eddie laughs. “Of-fucking-course it is.”

—-------

Twenty minutes and two joints later, they’re all leaned back against one of the logs around the fire pit they’ve got set up lower down on the property, far enough away from the house that the weed smell doesn’t bother the kids, and close enough that they can all still see each other if needed. A little Upside Down trauma makes people skittish, he supposes.

They lit the fire, knowing they’d all end up here after dinner, and that the fire smell is just strong enough to make Hopper and Joyce not say anything about their kids obviously smoking pot. A pretty normal ritual at this point, to gather around the fire and talk, or drink, or play music. Eddie often sets up with his guitar and takes requests, or just plays to fill in the background noise of everyone’s conversations. It’s nice, having this kind of routine.

Eddie’s currently leaning into Steve’s side, revelling in the warmth of his boyfriend’s arm curled around his aching shoulders. Steve and Jonathan are engaged in some conversation about Jonathan’s shoot today. Eddie knows he should be listening, but he’s honestly really, really fucking exhausted, and it’s really starting to set in now. A bone deep exhaustion brought on by too-long hours of manual labor, dulled with the sweet blanket of warmth that only weed brings. He knows he’s going to be goddamn sore tomorrow, but he’s trying not to think about that, instead focusing on the feeling of Steve’s hand rubbing soothing patterns into his arm.

“Eddie.”

Eddie jolts. “What?”

He hears Steve laugh and looks up at his boyfriend with his best wounded look. Steve just rolls his eyes. “Oh, drop it. We’ve been trying to get your attention for, like, a few minutes.”

“Oh?” Eddie’s gaze turns sheepish then as he looks between them. “Shit, sorry, you guys. Guess I zoned out there.”

Steve squeezes his shoulder. “You’re fine, babe. Just wanna make sure you’re okay.”

“Yeah, ‘m just fuckin’ exhausted, honestly. Sorry I’m not better company.”

“Dude, you’re fine. You did a fuckin’ lot today from what I saw.” Jonathan says, knocks his knee against Eddie’s. “No apologies needed. Just tryna check in like Steve said, make sure it’s nothin’ else.”

Eddie rubs his eyes. “Yeah, no, just plain old manual labor induced exhaustion.” He pauses. “Well, that, and your boyfriend’s weed. That pineapple is hazing over me real good.”

Jonathan laughs. “Yeah, alright, you’re fine.”

“Why don’t you just shut your eyes for a bit? We’ll wake you up when the food’s done.” Steve pulls Eddie tighter to his chest.

“You sure?”

“‘Course.” Steve kisses his temple.

“Yeah, man, if anyone deserves a nap today, it’s you.” Jonathan offers a lazy smile thrown his way.

Eddie offers his own smile back, finds himself drifting off to the sounds of the fire and the calming voices of two of the most important people in his life.

—-----

“So, how was the shoot today, Jonathan?” Joyce asks while they’re seated around the fire, picking off the last bits of their dinners.

“Oh, it was cool, I guess.” Jonathan murmurs, ducks his head a bit.

Steve pushes his arm. “C’mon, man.”

“It’s really nothin’. Just another shoot.”

“He’s lying.”

“Steve!” Jonathan pushes the arm draped around Eddie, causing Steve and Eddie both to tip a little to the side.

Eddie groans. “Hey, don’t catch me in your crossfire. I’m an innocent bystander.”

“You’d be calling him out too if you heard what happened at the shoot today, babe.”

Eddie quirks a brow, turns his attention to Jonathan. “What’d you do, Jonny? Piss off a business owner?”

“Jesus.” Jonathan wrings his hand across his face, falling into Argyle’s shoulder. “It’s nothing.”

“Aw, come on, Jon. They just wanna hear you talk about how your swanky photography landed you a full time gig at an agency out there.” Argyle brags, dopey grin across his face.

“You what?” Will and El both scream, jumping up in excitement, before running over to jump on their brother in a tangled hug.

“Ow! Jesus, you’re both all bony limbs, get off.” Jonathan laughs, gently shoving his younger siblings off of him. They plop down on the ground around him, faces beaming back at him.

“Jonathan? Is–did you get offered a job?” Joyce’s voice is hopeful, eyes glossy in the firelight.

Jonathan turns to his mom, expression mirroring her own. “Yeah, I guess.”

Steve pelts him with a slice of cucumber.

“Ow! Alright, geez, yes, I got offered a full time job up in Indy. It’s not a traditional 9-5, but it’s full time, and really good pay, and I’d get to work with a lot of really great people and businesses and stuff.” Jonathan crosses his arms. “I, uh, I really impressed them with my portfolio and my work today. They said they’d like me to start soon as possible. I just – I didn’t want to uproot everything, and didn’t expect to bring it up tonight.”

“Oh, sweetheart. I’m so proud of you.” Joyce wipes a few tears away before moving over to hug her son.

“Well, that sounds like a means for celebration to me. What’s the masses think?” Hopper grunts out as he stands up. Will and El scramble up, eyes wide in anticipation. Hopper points at them. “Don’t get any ideas.” He walks off to the house, the two younger kids trailing after him, giggling to each other.

Joyce is asking Jonathan questions about the shoot today, and he’s seemed to loosen up a bit now that the whole fireside isn’t listening to him. She squeezes his shoulder and stands to go follow Hopper up to the house.

Eddie leans over, pushes Jonathan’s shoulder. “Hey, man. Sick offer. That’s amazing. Don’t let them undersell you, or else they’ve got a whole apocalypse squad to answer to.”

Jonathan laughs. “Thanks, dude. It’s a pretty good offer, I guess. I don’t really have much to compare it to, but the numbers are way more than anything I’ve ever seen in my life, so. I’m not really planning to complain too much.”

“Ah, but that’s how they get you in the creative business.” Eddie pulls himself off of Steve’s shoulder, turns a bit to face his friends. “Seriously, I’ve looked into it a bunch with all the music stuff. They try real hard to capture young talent and swindle them. I don’t know how it goes with photographers to a full extent, but I’ve shot the shit with and worked with enough gig photographers that I’ve got a decent idea of how it goes there.”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah, man. You’d be surprised what people will talk about in those spaces. Numbers are fully out on the table when you get a bunch of artists of any kind together. The contract writers aren’t looking out for us, so we gotta do it ourselves.”

Jonathan nods. “Yeah, shit, I didn’t even think about that. Would you, uh – would you be up to helping me with that?”

Eddie smiles. “Of course. What kind of friend would I be if I left you to the sharks? Plus, I owe you for all the great photos you’ve taken of me and the band.”

Jonathan waves his hand. “No, you don’t. No owing between friends, man. We’re all on the level here. Just take care of each other, look after each other like you said.”

“Fair enough, Byers, fair enough.”

“You be willing to ride up to Indy with me to look over the contracts later this week?”

“Fuck yeah. Just give me a day, I’ll be there.”

“Thanks, man. I really fucking appreciate this.” Jonathan fidgets with the hem of his shirt. “I’m good at, like, the budgeting part of money and stuff, but know fuck all about contracts, so anything you know would be a massive help.”

Eddie hums, closes his eyes for a moment as he thinks. He finds it helps him focus if he cuts off a few senses like that. Helps him hear his own thoughts a bit better, untangle them from each other. It’s gotten a lot harder to do so since the spring break from hell, but he’s come to terms with it a bit, and everyone gives him space to work through his thoughts, avoids pressing him to answer anything, just lets him come back to them when he can.

Eddie blinks, catches Jonathan’s eye. “Alright, so, I’ve got a few photographer friends here in town and then out in Indy. Some more out in Chicago and stuff, though I don’t think we’ve got enough time for that. I’ll make some phone calls tomorrow morning and get us in to meet them before you go back and meet to discuss contracts. How’s that?”

“Shit, dude.” Jonathan stammers, a wide grin stretching across his face. “Yeah, that’d be fucking amazing, seriously. Thanks, man.”

“Anytime, Jonny boy.” Eddie leans back against Steve. “We’ll get you a good deal.”

Just then, Joyce and Hopper and the kids returns, several glasses and a handle of whiskey between them. The kids hand out glasses to everyone, even themselves, Eddie notices with a shock. Hopper goes around and gives everyone a pour, only give El and Will a splash each, much to their annoyance. “Hey, you’re lucky you’re getting this.” He grumbles at them.

Hopper stands, holds his glass high in a toast. Jonathan slinks down against Argyle’s chest, tries to hide his face, but Argyle laughs and softly grabs his chin, holds his face so as to watch Hopper’s toast.

“Jonathan, I’m proud as hell of ya, son. You’ve worked your ass off for this. I don’t always get art and stuff, but, uh, your stuff is good.” Hopper scratches his chin, brows furrowed as he looks over at Jonathan. “You deserve this job, and you’ll get much better ones after it too. You’ve got potential, son. And I’ll support you every damn step of the way until you’re one of them world-renowned photographers or something.” Eddie swears he sees tears in Hopper’s eyes as he continues. “I’m real proud of you, son.”

Jonathan stumbles up, runs into Hopper’s arms, wraps him in a hug. Hopper stumbles briefly, then returns the hug, lays his head on top of Jonathan’s. It doesn’t take long for Will and El to join the hug, Joyce following shortly behind as she waves to the three non-Byers-Hopper’s to join. Argyle laughs and bounds over, wrapping around his boyfriend’s back.

Eddie smiles, watches the family celebrate their son’s accomplishment. He knows Jonathan deserves this, and he’s happy as hell for him. Even happier that he can offer support and help in his own way by trying to keep Jonathan from getting screwed over as best he can. He feels a bit soft watching them hug each other and laugh together. Thinks about how this is basically his family now, his little band of misfits all pressed together under the weight of many apocalypses.

Steve squeezes his shoulder. “Wanna give our congratulations and head up to bed?”

Eddie looks up at him. “You wanna sleep here tonight?” “Yeah, I’ve got a feeling Joyce’ll want an early start tomorrow with the garden. Plus, it’s already late, and I’m still a pretty high, and you’re exhausted. Joyce gave us a room for a reason.”

Eddie sighs. “Thank fuck for that. I don’t know if I could make it to the car, ‘m so fuckin’ tired, Stevie.”

“I know, babe. Let’s go get you to bed.” Steve stands, holds out his hand to pull Eddie up against him. They make their way over to the disbanding hug, pull Jonathan into a hug of their own, offer up their congratulations again.

Steve pulls them over to where Joyce and Hopper are talking. “Hey, Joyce. Cool if we crash here tonight?”

“Of course, sweetie. You don’t have to ask to stay in your room.”

Eddie’s heart warms a bit at that, knowing he has a room in someone else’s house. It honestly makes him want to cry. “‘Preciate it, Joyce. You’re the best.”

Joyce smiles at them. “Of course. You still good for the garden, same time tomorrow morning?”

“Wouldn’t miss the planting for the world, Joyce. Got the whole day off just for you.” Steve smiles, pulls her into a hug. “Already ready for what we’re able to grow this time.”

Joyce laughs, squeezes his shoulders tight before pulling back. “You sound just like your boyfriend.”

Eddie smiles, looks at the people around the fire pit, hanging out and chatting away, celebrating Jonathan’s new job offer. Thinks about how he’s managed to grow his own little family in spite of it all.

Thinks about his boyfriend, a fucking godsend of a man, constantly there to love him through all his good and bad days.

He reaches out for Steve’s hand, starts pulling him up to the house, to the room that’s their own in a place filled only with love and kindness and laughter. He yanks Steve down into the bed with him, both still fully clothed, rolls into his boyfriend’s side and starts peppering his laughing face with kisses.

Yeah, Eddie’s pretty happy with where his life has taken him.

tags (open): @sunshine-daydreams0809

divider credit: @saradika-graphics

just let me know if you'd like to be added to my permanent taglist :) thank you for reading <3

#eddie munson #steve harrington #steddie #steddie fic #steddiebingospring #jonathan byers #joyce byers #argyle #jim hopper #jargyle #platonic stonathan #eddie and jonathan are besties #will and el are there too as background characters #sun writes

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an-annyeoing-writer · 2 days ago

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yandere!THE8 x Reader: sleeping pills.

Part 2 of 2

Date of release: 03.05.2025

Word count: 3 374

Tags: yandere, angst, hurt & comfort (but I'm afraid the hurt might win)

Warnings (parts 1 & 2): mentions of kidnapping, minor violence, dr*gs, de*th & s*icide

Part 1

On the fifteenth day, you felt that you are going to go crazy.

You paced around the room from the moment you woke up. A shower didn’t help. Based on your internal calendar, it must have been the weekend.

“Minghao, where are you?” you spoke into the air, although maybe too quietly for him to hear. A quick trip to the door confirmed that you were still locked up. The snack drawer was still full, but that wasn’t it. He wouldn’t neglect your physical needs. But he spent all his days at work and then barely had any time to visit you, among all the other things that he had to tend to. You noticed that he was spending more time at work, too – it was a busy season at the office and you suspected he was gifted some of the workload that you left behind. He came back home exhausted and when he entered your room with a dinner, you saw his face getting paler and paler every day.

But if your calculations were right, it was a weekend, so you hoped to spend more time with him.

You stared at the clock on the wall with a blank expression for another hour before the door finally opened; it was almost noon.

You jumped to your feet. The man held a plate in his hands, your breakfast was as perfect as he would always make it be.

But he was not. The dark circles under his eyes told you as much.

“Minghao, are you okay? It’s so late, were you asleep?”

You didn’t want to sound demanding. He must have had so much burden on his shoulders, and you weren’t exactly able to help him with it.

“Sorry, I worked until late yesterday and slept in. Here, your breakfast.” He walked over and put the plate on your bedside counter. “I need to go out now, I’ll see you later.”

You grabbed his sleeve before he could flee, and the man turned around, looking at you suspiciously.

“You have been gone all week. You look terrible. Stop doing things and just rest finally” you spoke in a scolding tone. “Think about me, too.”

He squinted his eyes.

“I do it all for you, you know that. You told me what needs to be taken care of. And I can’t have your diet getting worse just because I stay at home instead of doing groceries. So please, just stay here and wait for me.”

You crossed your arms on your chest.

“And you think you can pull it all off this way? How long do you think you can go like that before you end up in a hospital from exhaustion?”

There were words pushing at his lips, and from his tense expression, you knew that if he spoke them out loud, they would hurt. You understood – he wouldn’t have so much on his shoulders if he wasn’t taking care of the two of you simultaneously. But it was also his choice to make. Maybe he shouldn’t have decided for it if he couldn’t handle it.

Or maybe he knew very well what it’s going to led to, and decided to do so anyway.

You were stuck in your own thoughts for a short moment, but it was enough for you to flinch in surprise when you suddenly felt arms embracing you. You froze; it was the first time he approached you this directly, and you weren’t sure how to react.

But the embrace felt warm, felt safe. Minghao’s presence felt like home.

“I’ll be fine. I’ll make it better.”

“Spend more time with me” you spoke quietly, melting in his arms. “Can you do that? Can you let me out of this room? I can clean around or cook with you.” His body stiffened, and you squeezed your arms around him tightly – I’m not going anywhere.

“You don’t have to do anything.”

“But I want to. I’m lonely here. Please, Minghao. Let’s try at least that.”

You didn’t want to lose his trust. Your words were genuine. You only hoped that he would understand as much.

You felt Minghao’s eyes on you from across the room as you sat with a book in your lap. It was one you didn’t read before, and you found it among many others on the shelves in your room, but from the look he gave you when he spotted you holding it this morning, you had a feeling that Minghao picked it out specifically with you on mind. Unfortunately, his gaze distracted you so much that you swore you didn’t remember a single thing from the last two pages that you’ve read.

The past days were… enjoyable. Minghao managed to convince the HR to allow him work-from-home exemption a few days in a week, as long as his results wouldn’t drop, and the ability to spend time in each other’s proximity, as well as the additional time he didn’t have to waste on commuting, visibly improved his – and your – well-being.

Finally, you realized that no reading will get done like this. With a lighthearted suggestion that you’ll make a tea for the two of you instead, you put the book down on the couch and stood up.

Teas were usually Minghao’s thing. He enjoyed the time spent preparing them and so, although it felt a bit silly, you entered the kitchen wondering where he stores them to begin with. You helped him around the kitchen a little recently, but it was still him who knew where things were, and you only entertained the time by chopping vegetables or performing some other not too demanding tasks.

You opened the drawers one by one, passing by all the neatly stored spices and utensils.

It was around the third drawer that you almost passed by thoughtlessly when something at the very back of it caught in the very corner of your vision.

Your phone.

You hesitated; it did cross your mind before – but something stopped you from ever inquiring about it. Minghao said he would take care of things, so why would you worry about whatever was happening in all these forsaken apps that only ever caused you only more stress? Life without social media was simpler. Nicer. Your mind was at ease. Your attention span improved.

Yet, spotting the device just now, you knew that you couldn’t disregard it. It would haunt you not to know.

You glanced towards the entry – Minghao must have been still occupied with his work.

Taking a deep breath, you took the phone in your hands and turned it on.

It took a while to boot. You almost had a heart attack hearing the sound of the system loading, but it seemed Minghao didn’t hear anything. Thankfully.

With palms sweaty and shaking, you turned on the Internet.

And then waited. One second. Two. Three. The screen froze for a moment.

And then, one by one, notifications started flowing in. From all new content that arrived in all apps possible, through advertisements and updates you couldn’t care less for, so many that you lost track after a few moments. A few new messages crossed your vision, but they have been quickly drowned out by all other notifications, so much that you eventually decided to delete them all with a single button.

You took a deep breath.

From the beginning, [F/n].

You entered the messaging app you used the most. That was what mattered – everything else could be forgotten.

As expected, there were a few unread messages. Not that many. Thinking about it now, what did you expect? Work took most of your time, you didn’t have that many friends, and your family was also used to not having you text them too often. But except for spam messages, a few did grab your attention. From your parents. And from your friend.

You opened them and scrolled up, trying to ignore the pang of anxiety growing in your stomach.

The last messages, you did not write. They must have been Minghao’s doing – calmly explaining you will be gone for indefinite amount of time. They were written in a tone perfectly mimicking your own, providing just enough explanations to shush anyone’s concerns.

But then to any other messages that came after, no replies followed. And so you read through the script, like a plot unfolding – from annoyance at your lack of responsiveness, to worried tone that followed after a few days of constant absence. Soon, turning into anger, calling you out for your carelessness. [Don’t leave me on read!] – Minghao must have checked it once in a while. Yet, still no response.

[Fine, do what you will. You were always like that. Just don’t call if you need anything from me.]

You felt your chest contract and your breath get stuck in your lungs. It hurt, your head hurt, everything was spinning. Your hands trembled so much you almost dropped the phone.

Almost, because a hand appeared, taking the device out of your grasp and putting it to the side.

“Hey, hey. Breathe.”

You feared that he would be mad at you – but he seemed more concerned about the state he found you with, hands on your shoulders as he stood in front of you, trying to ground you.

“You’re safe here” he spoke in a calm tone. “It all doesn’t matter. You’re safe here with me.”

So he knew, you concluded; he knew what your parents, friends, have been going through – he knew they would hate you in the end. Of course he knew.

“Don’t touch me.” You slapped his hands away; anger bubbled within you, at the very least helping you regain control over your body. Minghao’s lips parted, but no sound left them – he froze with his hands mid-air, shocked at your display of animosity. “I’m going home.”

The way he looked at you was filled with nothing but pity.

You reached towards your phone on the counter, but his hand stopped you, fingers wrapping around your wrist a bit too tight for your comfort.

“You’re not.”

“It’s been enough, Minghao, for real this time” you huffed, trying to tear your hand away – to no avail.

Realizing there was no use in talking, you decided to use more force.

You pushed at his chest with all your might, simultaneously tearing yourself out of his grasp and running to the door. For a brief second, you thought you succeeded, his grip on you coming loose.

But his arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you back towards him. You clawed at his forearms, trying to pry them off and letting out an essay of profanities the moment you realized it was all futile.

But Minghao was having none of it, and his grasp on you was anything but gentle as he half-carried you down the corridor, silently bearing your screams and squirms, eventually reaching your room and throwing you inside with such force that you stumbled backwards and fell down. He looked almost sorry for a second, but it disappeared the moment he noticed the still-furious look on your face.

“You’re not making me stay here” you snapped.

The door closed before you could say anything else.

“You’re not!” you yelled. Filled with nothing but anger, you reached the nearest thing in your sight – a flower vase – and threw it at the door with all your force. The ceramic shattered with a loud noise. But your anger was still unquenched. “Fuck you!” you yelled. You reached towards the next thing – it just so happened to be a plate – a threw it as well. The noise was less satisfying, but still loud enough that you knew he would hear it. You hoped he would. You hoped he would experience every moment of your anger instead of locking you in here as if it didn’t exist. He deserved to hear it all.

But as your hand reached towards yet another item, you heard the door open again.

You were about to let out another yell, but your voice got stuck in your throat at the sight. For a few moments you were too stunned to react, and that was all the time he needed.

At your side within two seconds, Minghao’s hand clasped a metal bracelet around your wrist.

“W-what are you…”

He didn’t hesitate before pushing you on the bed, and for once, you felt fear fill you, realizing you were, truly, at his mercy.

The other piece of metal was locked on the bedframe in no time, keeping you secured with close to no freedom of movement. Climbing on top of you, the man straddled your waist.

With your eyes still fixated on the handcuffs, you didn’t notice the last thing that he brought. It was only when his hand cupped your chin, prying your mouth open, you realized what was happening. But you didn’t react on time – a few pills were pushed between your lips. You tried to hold them with your tongue, but Minghao was quick to pour bottled water into your mouth, and you started coughing frantically, eventually letting the pills slip through.

You glared at him with so much resentment that his face faltered.

Then he let go of your face.

“I didn’t want to do that” he stated quietly. “I didn’t want it to come down to this.” It was as if he was double-guessing himself, considering his options, whether or not there was still any way out of it.

But there was no such way, and both of you knew it very well.

At the beginning, you were able to count your days. One by one, noticing how your own mind changed and adjusted to the new predicaments. At the beginning, it was like a logical structure – a process, one that evolved gradually into a plotline that you could easily explain with basic understanding of human psychology and your own personality.

But how many days have passed since the last time you knew what date it was, you didn’t know. You didn’t remember that date, either. It all blurred out over the time spent laying in your bed motionlessly. The mattress no longer felt soft, the duvets no longer provided comfort and warmth. And the cuff on your wrist that connected it to the bedframe didn’t weight anymore.

The sound of the door opening didn’t phase you. You knew what would follow. The routine was stable. It erased your sense of self all the more with every time it was followed.

His silhouette appears in your range of sight. He bends down to the bedframe, unlocking the chain. A fake moment of freedom as he waits for you to get up. You don’t think, you just act. He guides you to the bathroom, chain still in his hand, just in case, just so that it doesn’t tempt you to try and flee. But you won’t. You are past it.

He lets you in and then closes the door behind you. You have about ten minutes before he asks if you’re alright in there. Ten more before he opens the door. You are ready by then, all showered and clean. Your hair is dripping with water and your gaze is fixated on the ground in front of you, lifeless.

Then, he kisses your forehead, guiding you back to bed. A dinner is waiting, and he sits there with a book, reading it out loud for you to relax to. By that time, the chain is back in place, but it is long enough to allow you some freedom of movement.

Once you finish eating, he sits behind you and gently brushes your hair out, then takes a hair dryer, saying that he doesn’t want you to get sick. His movements, all little touches, brushes against your skin, are filled with affection no one ever granted you in your entire life. They are filled with love and adoration, sometimes even with apology.

If he feels tired, he swaps arms around you from behind, nuzzle the back of your neck and have the two of you stay like that for some time.

Later, he puts you down to sleep and resumes reading. And the words flow, passing by your ears but leaving your memory as soon as they come, and he keeps reading until he makes sure you are completely and fully asleep.

And if you can’t sleep, he gives you pills – after that, you fall asleep for sure.

All these things happen every single day. You didn’t recollect the past that well anymore, and neither were you able to see the future looking like anything else.

But one time, it will feel different.

He will come to you later than usually and sit at your side, undoing the chain at your wrist instead – you will be too stunned to react, hardly comprehending that change. But by the way he pulls you into his lap, you will know the routine has been broken, and will sit there still, not knowing what to do next.

“I only wanted you to be free” he will whisper into your hair, cradling your head to his chest. He won’t feel strong as he usually does, his body will be weak, pathetic even, seeking comfort that you won’t know how to give. “I wanted you to stop worrying. To forget all that…”

The desperation lacing his voice will shatter your heart, although you won’t feel it as much as you would’ve before – because you won’t feel much of anything anymore, having succumbed into apathy long time ago.

“Don’t worry. We will both be free.”

He will pull out a small bottle of pills, although these will look unfamiliar, nothing like the ones you know by heart.

He will hand you some, along with fresh tea for you to drink over. The tea will be a bit too bitter.

“It won’t hurt, I promise.”

You won’t think before taking the pills – like you would’ve any other day, like you learned to do.

He will let out the sigh, soft sound blending with the one of you swallowing. You will look at him – ready to go to sleep, although hoping it’s one of the times when he will stay at your side as you do.

Your eyes will meet and neither of you will tear them away as he will reach and take a bunch of pills as well, a bit more than you did. Only then, only once he had swallowed them, will he put the bottle to the side and reach out to you, cupping your face with his hands and planting a chaste kiss on your forehead.

For those few moments, you will feel all that love that he had for you all along; you will know that the way things ended was not how he wanted them to end – and that his regret was laced with layers of hate for himself and what he had done to the both of you.

Only then, will you realize.

Your eyes will snap to the bottle, trying to read the letters – seeking to confirm your suspicions. But it will be too late.

“Minghao, what have you done…”

His arms will wrap around you and pull you to him closer as you will feel small sobs wreck through your body.

“I promised you it won’t hurt” he will say half-absently.

You will start feeling drowsy – although in an unfamiliar way, with a nervous pain in your stomach. His head will rest on your shoulder as you will feel his body slowly relax against yours as if he was, truly, only falling asleep. He will wordlessly seek your comfort, and you will this time grant it, knowing that it’s the least you can do for the two of you.

That there will be nothing else that can be done.

But that will be in the future.

Now you’re still conscious, still fighting; still hoping that you can talk him out of it, that maybe you will be able to find a way out of this mess. Now you still have the strength to yell at him every moment he enters the room and call him out for his nonsense.

Now you’re not broken yet.

It will take a bit more time.

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