Lost in London [Completed]

Quatre

Kay had lost track of time. It had to have been weeks, but who knew? When he was tired, he slept. Other than that, his only choice seemed to be to sit there in the dark. Food was brought with some regularity. It was a relief, but it might not last long. The man who brought it – Isaac, Kay thought his name was, could decide any day that he could no longer be bothered. And Kay wasn't sure he would blame him for it either.

At the sound of the door opening, Kay pushed himself to his feet and braced himself for the light to come on. Sure enough, it did, and was followed by quick footsteps descending a set of stairs.

The dull bulb hanging from the ceiling did little to make the room look appealing. The wallpaper was peeling and the paint underneath was chipped away, revealing the bricks behind. One loosely hung door led off from the side of the room and into a dilapidated bathroom. It was barely usable, but Kay was grateful for the running water, at least. God, how things had changed.

Isaac stepped onto the concrete floor and placed a plastic plate onto the floor before kicking it across the floor, sending the sandwich skidding across the floor. He'd learnt not to give Kay anything easily breakable very early on. He knew Kay didn't have the guts to hurt himself, but his attempts at being stubborn included breaking anything he could. It was laughable, really.

Kay wasn't spoken to, which only infuriated him. When Isaac nodded to him and turned away, going back up the stairs, Kay stumbled slightly as he crossed the room snd tried to follow the man. As if Isaac had already known, he spun around and allowed his hands to connect with Kay's chest.

Kay was on the floor.

His wrist was twisted awkwardly under him and the pain took his breath away.

He looked up at Isaac, though was met with only a disdainful – pitiful – expression from him. With a subtle shake of his head, Isaac had disappeared through the door at the top of the stairs, once again leaving Kay to pick himself up.

It took a long time – too long – for Kay to shift himself, not holding back strained gasps as he moved his arm into a more comfortable position. Every tiny movement elicited another pained noise from Kay, and he could feel his vision blurring. He stared down at his hand, eyes catching on the blood. Broken skin.

It should have been expected. Just glancing at the graze made Kay's stomach churn.

It wasn't a graze.

At that realisation, everything spun.

Kay had to grit his teeth as he tried to deal with it, pulling the sleeve on his left arm upwards, so nothing touched the injury.

Eventually, Kay managed to pull himself around, sitting with his back against the metal stairs, just allowing the bottom step to dig into his lower back. It was something else to focus on – the cold metal was almost soothing in nature.

With a shaky right hand, Kay forced himself to touch the injury, though flinched away at even his own gentle touch. Before this, he'd been starving, but even the thought of food now would be enough to make him gag.

Instead? Kay just sat there, left arm outstretched as he breathed desperately – unevenly.