The splitting headache made Misha frown in his sleep. It felt like something was burning behind his eyes, just like a bright fire. Meanwhile, the stabbing pain in the back of his head was creeping to the base of his skull. Slowly, it started to crawl down his spine, running along his back.
It felt as if his skin had been set ablaze.
The pain was such that Misha gradually emerged from his slumber. At first, his memory was blurry, and he thought he was in the middle of a flare-up. It often happened when he was a kid, his body unable to support his adult mind. However, the pain crises and fevers decreased in frequency as he grew up, and he barely had any since entering puberty. They had become something of the past, or so he had thought.
'Goddammit, I'm dying of pain here.'
Anxiety rose in the pit of his stomach. Misha could not help but think something wasn't quite right. Only, he could not pinpoint what exactly. He hadn't had a pain crisis in over a year, but it didn't mean it couldn't happen again, right...?
It was just that the pain he was currently experiencing wasn't the one he was used to. It left him puzzled and disoriented, his mind a mess.
Everything was still a little foggy, so Misha decided not to think about it and first tried to turn over on his side instead. It resulted in the pain growing sharper, enough to make him hiss. And then, he finally realized what was bugging him; his hands were tied behind his back, hindering his movements. He was also lying on something cold and hard, like concrete.
What the...?
A feeling of dread welled up in his chest as he flung open his eyes. He held his breath in, not daring to make a sound, and took in his surroundings.
The light was dim, plunging the room into darkness. It made it hard to distinguish anything, save for some vague shapes. At any rate, the room didn't look like his bedroom. It was too cramped.
So, where the heck was he?
And what the hell happened?
As soon as the question crossed his mind, images of the kidnapping flashed before his eyes, and his face turned ghastly pale. Right. Masked men yanked him, Jake, and Tristan into a van as they were walking toward Jake's car.
They fought back but weren't able to escape.
Clenching his jaw, Misha wriggled to sit up, ignoring his sore muscles. Considering how hard he had hit the car floor in his fall, his back was most likely bruised all over, thereby the pain. But that didn't matter to Misha. His body was the least of his concerns, and all he wanted to know was where the Laflamme brothers were.
"TRISTAN!" the teenager screamed, his heart in his throat. "Where are you!?"
"Shut the fuck up! He's beside you!"
Misha stilled. Goodness, he had never thought there would come a day where he would be happy to hear that voice. It usually irked him to no end, but at that moment, he found it particularly pleasing to the ear.
Not that he would ever admit it aloud, however.
With squinted eyes, Misha searched Jake throughout the dim room. Quickly, he noticed a silhouette sitting in front of him. The white shirt the man wore was particularly striking in the darkness. So were the blood spatters on his collar, the darker spots being hard to miss.
"You... Are you alright?"
"You guess."
With great difficulties, Misha restrained himself from barking back at the man; he swallowed the words on the tip of his tongue and decided not to bother answering. What was the point of bickering with someone who scoffed at him for worrying about their well-being? He might as well ignore them.
Thus, Misha shifted his gaze from Jake to his side and saw a small silhouette curled into a ball next to him. He could hear the boy's even breathing, which instantly calmed down his anxiety a notch.
Thank goodness, Tristan was safe and sound.
A while passed in silence, then Misha broke the heavy atmosphere and asked Jake, not taking his eyes off of Tristan, "What's going on?"
"Can't you tell?"
Jake's mocking tone made Misha's mouth twitch, but surprisingly, he did not yell at the man. Instead, he stayed silent for a few seconds before asking tentatively, without raising his voice in the slightest, "Why did you tell me to take Tristan and run?"
"..."
There was no answer.
"It's not like you."
"What do you know?" Jake snorted, leaving Misha speechless.
What did he know? Did he seriously ask the question...? Could it be that this idiot forgot he and Misha interacted quite a lot these past few years?! It was more than enough for Misha to know Jake wasn't the kind to prioritize others' safety over his own! He was a selfish and ruthless man who would sell off his parents with a smile. He didn't care for his family and never put his little brother in his eyes, much less Misha.
So, yes, Jake telling him to take Tristan and run was surprising.
His mind was now clear, and Misha could not help but remember how much Jake struggled to kick away the man who tried to grab him. He could have fought back the kidnapper holding his arms and fled on his own, yet he did not. Instead, he did his best to create an opportunity for them to escape, though Misha didn't manage to seize it.
No need to be a genius to realize something didn't add up. Saving them wasn't something the Jake he knew would do.
The teenager bit his lower lip. But just as he made up his mind to dig into the matter further, he heard low groans beside him. Tristan was waking up.
Before the boy could understand what was going on and why his head hurt so much, he heard a soothing voice say, "Tristan, don't panic. I'm here."
"Misha...?"
"Yes, it's me."
"Why is it so dark?" It was the first question that popped into the child's mind, so it was also the first thing he asked. However, he quickly remembered what had happened and soon broke down into tears.
"Shh, shh, it's fine, I'm here," Misha consoled, bending over to snuggle his head against the boy's, "Everything is going to be fine."
"But, but, the toy you bought me is broken!" Tristan bawled louder, leaving Misha at a loss for words.
Sometimes, children had their own priorities, which could be quite different from adults'. Tristan wasn't crying because he was scared, but because his precious toy was destroyed. At the moment, it was the only thing he could think about, even forgetting the predicament he was in. What mattered was his toy, and the rest was tossed at the back of his mind.
"I'll buy you another one, so stop crying, ok?"
The boy sniffled. He did not want another toy! He wanted the toy Misha had bought him earlier, the one they chose together, and that was all.
Only, Tristan knew better than being unreasonable, so he nodded, his lips pursed. Tears were glistening at the corner of his eyes, but he stopped sobbing loudly. Instead, he nestled against Misha's side, his shoulders still trembling in grief.
He really, really loved that toy.
Misha sucked in a breath, clenching his jaw to hold in a curse. The boy was pressing against a few bruises, and the pain he had momentarily forgotten abruptly grew sharper. Still, Misha didn't push the child aside, knowing he needed comfort right now.
"So? What do we do?" the teenager asked Jake, glancing at the man from the corner of his eyes. "Do you have an idea as to why we were kidnapped?"
"Like hell I know."
"..."
...Weren't they in the same boat? So how about being cooperative for once?!
The kidnapping obviously had nothing to do with Misha. He wasn't such a narcissist as to think someone would want to abduct him in broad daylight, unlike Jake and Tristan. On the one hand, their family was wealthy, and the kidnappers could be after some quick money. On the other hand, Jake and Tristan's parents were involved in various shady deals all year round. So, it wouldn't be surprising if their competitors resorted to dirty means like kidnapping their children and whatnot.
"Why not be honest and tell me what's going on?" Misha rolled his eyes before adding with a snort, "Unless you truly are an idiot who doesn't know shit."
"You're really good at rubbing people the wrong way, aren't you?" Jake was angered into laughing. "Can't you just shut up? I'd like a moment of silence, thank you."
"Oh yeah? And I'd fucking like to go back home in one piece, thank you!"
"'Cause you think I don't want to return home in one piece?"
"Seems like it to me. You're not being very helpful, if you haven't noticed yet—" Misha was interrupted mid-sentence, the door being open without warning. It was so sudden it startled him into choking on his words.
Fucking hell, what now?!
Bright light entered the room, hurting his eyes that had grown used to the dark. Misha had to squint to take a look at the man who had stepped inside. The newcomer wore a white Pierrot mask, concealing his face. The mouth was painted black, just as were the eyes and the tears on the cheeks. His dark-brown hair was pulled back, and his suit was tailored for his build. Black gloves covered his hands, and black leather shoes shone on the concrete floor. His appearance seemed out of place, making Misha feel unsettled.
"So, what do we have here?"
The voice was deep, carrying a hint of cold amusement that sent shivers crawling down Misha's spine. And for the very first time, he experienced a visceral fear that left him breathless, a feeling he would never be able to forget as long as he lived. He was terrified, more than ever.
__________________________
Chapter revised on 2022-06-14
Edited by Clozed! ♥
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