Simple//Tradley:Jonnor

I'm crying, Tristan

^Visual representation of where Connor is^

~

Brad was sitting in the back of the kidnapper's car, with Tristan lying across the seats, his head on the brunet's lap. Brad tried to stay calm, but he was nervous - his plan was practically non-existent and what little of it that existed was a long shot, it might not even work, and then they'd probably both get killed for trying to defy their kidnapper. Hell, Brad hadn't even told Tristan about his plan; the blond was barely responsive, so it would be difficult to explain. No, best Brad just went for it and suffered the consequences later, if he didn't succeed - which wasn't something he wanted to think about yet - then he'd cross that bridge if/when he came to it.

"We're here." The kidnapper stated, getting out of the car and opening the back door. Brad undid his seatbelt, ready to help him get Tristan out of the car when the kidnapper pulled a knife out of his waistline, lifted up Tristan's shirt and stabbed it right into his stab wound, as if it was a completely normal thing to do.
Brad imaged Tristan would scream out in pain, but the blonde was so far gone that only a pitiful groan could float through his lips.

"What are you doing?!" Brad gasped, reaching over to the kidnapper who yanked out the knife and picked up a rag from the footwell, which he wrapped the knife in and then threw it underneath the seat.

"I can't show up to the hospital and show them a wound which is old, they'll wonder why we didn't take him sooner. It's fresh now. When they ask, you tell them that the stabbing happened so quickly that you can't really remember anything, you think one had a knife, you saw the stabbing then shouted for help and I came to help. Got it?"

"They won't be fooled so easily," Brad stated "they'll work it out."

"And after the surgery, we would have left and they won't be able to find us to do anything about it. Now, let's go." Brad sighed but helped the kidnapper as he wrapped his arms around Tristan and pulled the lanky boy out of the car, kicking the door shut with his foot and resting Tristan against it whilst Brad got out of the car and came around to help support the blond. They took an arm each and wrapped them around the backs of their necks, supporting Tristan as they tried their best to move to reception quickly, Brad's hand pressing down on the rapidly bleeding wound.

"Help!" The kidnapper shouted when they got into the ER "He's been stabbed!"

Nurses swarmed around them, helping place Tristan on a stretcher and then rushing him off to, Brad presumed, surgery.

"What are your names?" a nurse holding a clipboard questioned, eyes flicking down to Tristan's blood which was drenching them.

"Brad."

"Vince."

"Please, wait in the waiting room. I'll have to get the police to take your statements, standard procedure for a... situation such as this, ((that's probably inaccurate but fiction)) but it may take a while. The boy you brought in will be in surgery for a few hours." The nurse stated, before turning and walking down a corridor away from the two males, who sat down on two of the waiting room chairs.

Brad's eyes flicked around nervously as he wrung his hands together. He felt sweaty and jumpy, as if he were about to get jumped by a crazy guy with a knife at any moment. The kidnapper caught his eye and mouthed 'act natural' at him, so Brad took a deep breath and dropped his hands, but he couldn't help still feeling nervous. So many things could go wrong - the kidnapper, Vince (if that actually was his name), could work out his plan and bring hell on him, he could kill him, sell him and Tristan off separately... and if Vince had nothing to do with things going wrong, then the alternatives were Tristan dying, Brad being sent to prison on account of murder/attempted murder or being sent back to the rehab centre. There were so many negative outcomes to outweigh the one positive one - that Brad and Tristan might actually walk away from all of this, and start their lives away from the rehab centre.