Deleted user
(Hey, are you still active?)
(Hey, are you still active?)
(oof. i was enjoying reading this as a story. don't mind me, i'm just the stalker.)
(Hey, sorry! Work related things got me really busy, and lmaoo that’s ok to stalk)
Vaughn’s lips quirked into a faint smile and nodded his head in response. When the waitress came back over, he ordered the piece of pie for them to share. The waitress left to go and get it, and he looked back down at Ilya. “Are you sure you want to come back to my.. home with me?”
(It's fine, stuff happens. I'm glad you're back!)
Ilya half buried himself in Vaughn when the waitress came by, not eager to talk to a stranger. He stayed there after she left, looking up at Vaughn curiously as he asked his question. "Why? Do you not want me to go? I… um… I'll stay at my- at the house if that's what you want." His tone went from worried to apprehensive when he mentioned his home.
(Yep, thanks!)
Vaughn let out a soft breath, brushing his fingers through the longer section of his onyx hair before speaking. “No, that’s not it. It’s just.. not that nice of a place,” he did his best to explain. And it was true. The abandoned gas station was messy and scattered. He never bothered to clean it up in the years he had lived there.
Ilya frowned quietly, starting to picture Vaughn's house the way he saw Damian's. Grey and oppressive and thick with the cloying scent of fear and the sickening twang of blood. He shivered, pressing closer to Vaughn. "Why… uh… why isn't it a nice place?"
Vaughn pursed his lips a bit at Ilya’s question. “It’s just not much of a real home, you know? Anyone could look at it and say it’s barely suitable for living- even I think that,” he explained.
Ilya let out a quiet sigh of relief, offering Vaughn a small smile. "Oh! Um… I'd still like to see where you live, even if it's not… not much of a home. It would be nice to learn more about you. If that's okay with you, of course."
Vaughn licked his lips to wet them before beginning to lightly chew on his bottom lip. “That’s ok with me,” he said, though he still felt hesitant. He would just be careful. He would make sure Ilya didn’t touch anything or find anything he shouldn’t be looking at. He had things there that could be extremely compromising to what he was doing and his identity.
Ilya's smile widened into something that almost escaped the fear he carried with him. He hugged Vaughn's arm and pinned him with an earnest look. "Thank you! I… It means a lot that you're willing to share. I know you don't… um… do this a lot. So… thanks. Again." He blushed lightly, looking down at his hands.
Vaughn bit the inside of his cheek sharply when he was squeezed. He wasn’t too used to close contact from others, unless he was in the middle of killing them. “Like I said, I was ok with this exception,” he responded with a faint smile. After a moment, the plate with the piece of pie was set down in front of them, and he thanked the waitress.
Ilya thanked her as well, still pressed happily against Vaughn's side. He wanted to scarf down the pie the same way he had everything else, but he resigned himself to tiny bites instead. Vaughn would want the bigger share and it was a miracle he let Ilya have any of the dessert at all. "Still. You deserve a thank you for everything you've done."
Vaughn resisted the urge to grimace when Ilya pressed up against him, that sending a sharp ache through his injured side. He picked up his fork and used it to take a small bite from the pie. He didn’t want to eat too much. He would just have to work off the calories later on.
Ilya pulled away sharply, noticing the way Vaughn had tensed when he leaned in. He scooted away quickly until he wasn't touching Vaughn at all before he returned to picking at the pie. Vaughn didn't like being touched and Ilya knew that, so why had he decided it would be a good idea to get all cuddly? He was such an idiot. "Sorry, I'll sit over here."
(hey, I noticed you were back and I was wondering if you'd like to continue this? Don't feel any pressure to respond if you aren't interested, I just thought it was a lot of fun and would personally enjoy keeping it going)
(hey, of course! i would love to. i'll read through the rp and then reply to the message, just so i can refresh myself on the writings. im glad you reached out and i hope youre doing well! i will reply in a couple of minutes!)
(thanks so much! I'm doing pretty alright these days, it's nice to see you again! I hope you're doing alright too!)
(that's good to hear i'm doing pretty good at the moment too. i just finished reading through the rp so i'll type up a reply now!)
Vaughn's brows raised in the slightest when Ilya scooted away from him, mumbling that quick apology. His head tilted to the side in the slightest in a wondering sort of way. "Hey, it's ok.." he started in his usual, gentle tone, "Remember before when I mentioned getting scraped up? It's just on my side a tad bit. I'm ok. You can come back over if you would like." He slightly lifted the hard that had been around Ilya's waist, keeping the area next to him open for Ilya if he wished to scoot back over.
Like always, Ilya found himself unsure of whether to take what Vaughn said at surface value. It was so much safer to read into things—to take into account tone and expression and body language and every tiny thing that might help him gauge the mood of the person he was talking to—so for a few moments he just sat, eyes skimming anxiously across Vaughn's body. His cheeks went pink as he leaned in again, shame coloring his fair skin. "Oh. I… I didn't…" The words came out all stuttery. Who was he, to question Vaughn's intentions? The man had been nothing but sweet to him and he still trembled when the man's fingers so much as twitched. "… I didn't remember, I'm sorry. I'm overreacting, aren't I?"
When Ilya leaned back against his side, Vaughn murmured that he was going to lower his arm again before he actually made the movement, not wanting to startle the obviously anxious boy. He rested his arm back around Ilya's waist gently, opening his hand to offer it for Ilya to hold if he would like. "It's alright, Ilya. I'm not judging you or anything along those lines because of your reactions. I'm very patient, I've been through it all so I understand. Just take your time with things when you need to, and I'll follow your lead so you can be comfortable."
It earned a small jolt anyways, but Ilya forced himself to relax. He took the offered hand with something close to defiance, only sparing a few glances up at Vaughn before he laced their fingers together. Exceedingly bold, to touch him so carelessly, but the comfort he got when Vaughn didn't push him away was enough to start bleeding the tension from his delicate frame. There was a moment where he didn't answer, unsure, and then he was gasping out a quiet "oh" and trying to pretend like this wasn't something completely unheard of. Patient, Vaughn said, like anyone had ever been patent with him before.
"You… you don't have to do that," he managed weakly, bowing his head. It would be too much, to see the truth in Vaughn's eyes right now. The sincerity. "I'm no good in the lead and… and I don't… ah…. I don't know how…"
Vaughn smiled gently when Ilya took hold of his hand. After their fingers were laced together, he softly rubbed little circles on the back of Ilya's hand. It was a way to keep himself occupied, so he would hopefully refrain from twitching and getting too bothered by the voices in the back of his mind. He tilted his head down in the slightest as Ilya looked away from him. "That's ok, then. How about we take this on side by side? As equals, you know? It might help you get more comfortable," he suggested.
He lifted his free hand, moving it slowly to gently brush his fingers against Ilya's jaw, tilting his head up in the slightest- just enough so he could see Ilya's eyes. "Do you trust me, Ilya? Do you trust that I can keep you safe and take care of you?" he asked softly, thumb gently brushing against Ilya's jaw.
Ilya melted a little as soft circles were rubbed into his hand, all but evaporated when Vaughn brought out the word equals. It was no less foreign than patience or comfort or any of the other things that he was being promised but it was endlessly more attractive. To be the same as someone, to be on even footing… it was almost too much for him to think about. Luckily, or unluckily, depending on how you interpreted it, it didn't take much to distract him.
He flinched when Vaughn's fingers brushed along his face and leaned into the warmth of his palm right after, eyes all wide and thoughts gone right out the window. His breath wobbled out before Vaughn was ever running over his jaw, and after he'd done it, after Ilya had felt the soft scrape of those callouses over his tender skin, his focus all but shredded itself.
He hadn't been treated like this in a very long time. His pupils were blown, just a little, and he didn't have the presence of mind to flick his eyes around so they stayed settled on Vaughn's face, unreadable. It wasn't even the touch that had him floored, it was the fact that he did feel safe, right now, with his face cradled in the hand of a stranger. That Vaughn made him feel good and safe and cherished, somehow. "I… yeah. Yes, I… I do."
Vaughn’s lips twitched up in the slightest, forming a warm and little smile. It was a genuine one, one that made his eyes squint in the slightest and faint dimples indent his cheeks. He looked into those brown puppy dog eyes that Ilya had, his own grey ones seeming concentrated on them. He liked eye contact. It helped to form connections.
When Ilya confirmed that he did feel safe, Vaughn gave a little nod of his head. “Good, I’m glad to hear,” he replied. For a split second, his gaze flickered down to Ilya’s soft appearing lips. The voices were right about Ilya being attractive. It was such a temptation for Vaughn. He had not allowed himself to be touched like the way he was being touched now in so long and it made him feel quite emotional. He wanted to let those emotions out so very desperately to get rid of the pressure building up inside of him like the waves of water in the ocean pulling back before a tsunami strikes the shore.
He cleared his throat gently, feeling a cold hand grip his shoulder. It was figure, of course. And what do you think you’re doing? You have to kill in around two hours. Get your head out of the gutter and save it for later, the tall mass of shadows hissed into his ear. His gaze shifted back to where the pie sat on the table, then to Ilya’s face once again. “You should finish your pie, if you would like. Either that or we can take it to go so you can have some later,” he suggested, keeping the warm smile on his lips.
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