Ilya avoided eye contact most of the time, always flicking away as quickly as he could so he wouldn't give away how he was feeling. There was none of that now. Vaughn's hand was warm on his jaw and his grey eyes were so intent that Ilya couldn't bear to glance away, even for a second. He was beautiful, to sum up the raging, disjointed tide of Ilya's thoughts. He was beautiful and kind and seemed, in that moment, like something very close to an angel.
Ilya's eyes were all lit up with adoration, wide pupils, brown shrunk down to two tiny rings. He wanted very badly to be kissed right then, tilted his head up slightly to accept it, but then Vaughn was glancing away and the moment fell to pieces.
"Oh! I… ah… I don't mind either way." His pulse beat hard in his neck, fluttery and fast. He hadn't pulled away yet, despite the disappointment that began seeping into him, the touch too comfortable and too nice for him to bear pulling away from. "Whatever you want, you… you've done so much for me, Vaughn." He turned slightly, tucking his face into Vaughn's palm. "So much, I don't want to be a bother."
Vaughn clicked his tongue softly, looking back over at the pie. “We still have to walk to my home, get to yours, and set up… We can take it to go,” he said. When Ilya pressed his face closer to his palm, he felt a small spark of warmth in his chest. There was something endearing about the motion.
Vaughn tilted his head and motioned for the server to come over. After asking for a to-go box, and later receiving it, he packed the pie away into the box. He decided he would carry it for now so that Ilya didn’t have to. They were given the bill and Vaughn took out his wallet from his sweatpants, pulling out a couple of the paper bills. He set them on the table, making sure to leave extra for a tip. “Are you ready?”
Ilya wasn't exactly thrilled to get up but he followed Vaughn out of the shop and back into the street without complaint. It didn't feel strange not to pay but it was a bit odd to hold a takeout box in his hands and know that it was his. It wasn't even very much pie—he'd only eaten about half before they got up to leave—but it was given freely and it meant the world to him. His free arm was wrapped as securely as possible around Vaughn's, holding him close as they made their way out again. "What… ah… what do we do, now? Do I have to… um… to go b-back?"
Vaughn glanced down at Ilya as the male clung to this arm while they walked. He chuckled quietly to himself, glancing back ahead at the sidewalk. “No, not yet. We’re going to go to my place now so I can grab a few things, then we will go back to yours to wait until Damian gets home,” he replied in a steady tone.
The gas station was only around a 15 minute walk away. Once they finally arrived, it was obvious the place was abandoned. He went to the door and dug out the keys from his pocket, unlocking the glass door and opening it up, holding it open for Ilya. Once they were both inside, he flicked on the fluorescent lights, showing the shelves of items and the counter in the back. “This is it,” he stated, scratching the back of his neck in a slightly embarrassed sort of manner. It wasn’t even close to a real home.
"And you'll be with me until…" His voice trembled lightly, grip on Vaughn's arm growing slightly tighter. "… until he gets there?" It was hard to think about going back. The house had been his prison for a long time and he dreaded it almost as much as he dreaded his encounters with Damian. The whole place had transformed over the years from a safe space to a cage, and even the gas station seemed luxurious in comparison.
Sure, it wasn't exactly a home, but light came in through the windows and it didn't stink of smoke and booze and cheap bleach. Mostly, it smelled like Vaughn, like the hoodie Ilya was still swaddled in, and some kind of lemony cleaning spray. "It's… um… it's nice." He glanced around, taking in the shelved, the counter. "Where… ah… where do you sleep, though? I don't se a bed or… or anything."
“Mm, I’ll still be there. I’m going to try and get a feel for the layout of your place and find somewhere to wait so I can catch him by surprise. You can stay here at the gas station if you would like. It’s not a pretty sight. But if you want to come, you’ll have to stay hidden. I don’t want you to get hurt in the process of things,” Vaughn explained, leading Ilya over to the counter.
“The bed is back over here,” he hummed. He led Ilya behind the counter and down a very short hallway to where there was a door. He opened it and flicked on the lights. The room appeared to be one that should have been a storage room, but Vaughn had done some renovations. There was a cot on the floor with a little mattress on it, blankets piled on top. There was a couple of boxes of clothing and other items that were sitting on shelves that were on the other side of the room. There was also a door in the room, and behind that door would be a small bathroom that included a shower.
The offer to stay far, far away from Damian while everything went down had been much easier to turn away when it was still a distant thing, more of a hope or a wish than a plan. Ilya wanted to accept. He wanted to stay here, maybe bundled up in a few blankets or maybe sitting patiently in the corner, but he knew that if he did, he'd never really feel safe. Damian was a monster, and monsters didn't die until you saw them go down with your own two eyes. "No, no I… um… I'm okay. I need to be there, if… if that's alright?"
He glanced up at Vaughn, checking his reaction, and then made like he was checking out the bedroom. There wasn't much to focus on but he tried anyways, pulling Vaughn a little further into the room so he could peek at all the boxes and examine the cot. It wouldn't be so bad, sleeping here. He wouldn't get the bed, of course, but maybe he'd get a few blankets to make sleeping on the floor more comfortable, and Vaughn would be there too, big and strong and hopefully enough to ward off any nightmares. "I get to stay with you after, right?"
Vaughn glanced down at Ilya, slight concern in his eyes. Ilya wanted to see him kill Damian. He was worried that would traumatize Ilya even more than he already was, but he couldn’t stop Ilya. He wanted the male to grow comfortable knowing he could make his own decisions. The last thing he wanted to do was boss Ilya around. “That’s ok. Just keep your distance a bit, alright? I don’t want you to get hurt in the scuffle,” he hummed.
He allowed Ilya to look around the room. He didn’t have much to hide. He wasn’t worried about Ilya finding some of his more private things- which he kept tucked far under his raised cot. When Ilya brought up where he would be staying, it made Vaughn think a bit. Ilya had a home, but still wanted to stay with Vaughn. This place was barely suitable for one person, but two? Then again, he could make it work for a bit. He could use his monthly allowance from his therapist and foster family to set Ilya up in a hotel room if he wanted that. “Yeah, you can stay with me once this is all over,” he agreed with a small nod, the corners of his lips quirking up into a smile.
Ilya nodded. He didn't like guns, the scent of them or the sound of them, but he needed to see it. He needed to be there. "Thank you," he mumbled, retreating a little closer to Vaughn's side. "For… for letting me go and letting me stay here and… and everything. I don't… um… I don't know how to repay you." Vaughn had told him there was no need, but he wanted to. He hadn't felt hopeful for a very long time and now he did. Hope flitted in his heart like a little bird, fragile and new, and he would give Vaughn anything in return for it. "But… I will. I promise I will, and… and I… I want you to let me, while… um…while I'm here."
Vaughn listened to what Ilya had to say. While he really didn’t want to accept anything as payment for his work, he also didn’t want to deny Ilya. “Alright. But it doesn’t have to be anything extravagant, ok? I’m doing this because I want to, but if you want to do something in return, you can,” he said. He glanced around the room before looking back down at Ilya.
“I have a bit to get ready before we head to your house. You can make yourself comfortable here. You can shower, nap, or do whatever else you want,” Vaughn explained. He wanted Ilya to get comfortable in the new environment. There wasn’t anything else to show him- and his private things were tucked away- so he thought it would be best to let Ilya decide what he wanted to do next.
Ilya nodded, happy just to have the privileged of doing something because he wanted it. "Thank you," he murmured, glancing up at Vaughn with his eyes blown all wide again. Awestruck, or maybe just grateful, it didn't matter much. He was happy. The excitement dimmed a little when Vaughn had to leave to get ready but he didn't cling, not the way he wanted to. He dipped his head in an obedient nod, let go of Vaughn's arm, and found a nice corner to sit down in while he waited.
It felt to presumptuous to take the bed, too rude to pull down blankets and make a nest, but the room wasn't cold enough that he needed them so he was happy. Sitting gave him time to think anyways, and he'd always been very good at disappearing into his head.
Vaughn chuckled softly and nodded his head in reply to the ‘thank you’ that he was given. He stepped out into the main area, standing behind the counter. He reached over to the older looking radio, switching it on to a station that played classic rock music at a soft volume. He hummed along to a tune softly as he crouched down to look under the counter. He pulled out a duffel bag, slinging it over his shoulder before standing. He headed back to the back room, dropping the duffel bag down onto the cot.
The music could still be heard lightly from the back room. Vaughn looked down at Ilya with a slightly tilted head. “Why are you sitting on the floor?” he asked. It couldn’t be comfortable. Why would Ilya do that when he could be sitting on the bed?
The music filtered through enough for Ilya to hum along to it, enjoying the muffled music and the small, easy to process room and everything Vaughn had given to him without so much as a second thought. He seemed almost surprised when the door opened again, tilting his head right back as he processed the question. It made his brows furrow a little—it seemed perfectly obvious to him—but then it clicked that this probably wasn't normal and his cheeks went all red
"I… I just… um… I didn't…" He fiddled with the hoodie, tugging the hood a little further forward, the hem a little lower. "… I didn't want to be a bother and… and I like the corner." His voice pitched up near the end, so it came out more like a question than a statement.
Vaughn watched Ilya for a second before easing into a crouch, lips quirked into a smile. “As long as your comfortable. Sit wherever you would like,” he hummed turning away to face the duffel bag. He unzipped it, glancing over the contents inside. Inside was various weapons and materials- including guns, ammunition, knives, zip ties, rope, gasoline, and more.
But most importantly, was his mask. What kept him from being discovered and identified. It covered his whole face, having small eye holes on the front so he was able to see. It was a perfect image of the figure he always saw by his side. The mask was black, having scratch marks that scratched away the paint to show the white underneath. The scratches were in the formation of long, jagged, and sharp teeth. He made it look like Figure for a reason.
With that in mind, he clenched his jaw as he remembered that he had not told Ilya about his mental illness. It wouldn’t be as worrisome if he was getting proper treatment for it- which he wasn’t. He was taking medication, but it certainly wasn’t the right dosage because while his hallucinations weren’t severe, they weren’t completely gone either. How would he even bring that up with Ilya?
Ilya hadn't been expecting such an easy response so his smile was a little unbalanced when he flicked it towards Vaughn, though no less bright. He pushed himself up to his feet after a few moments, doing his best to keep from peeking into the duffle bag as he made himself comfortable at Vaughn's side again. There wasn't anything in it he cared to see, and anyways it was private.
"I am," he mumbled, after the silence stretched out a little too long. "I'm always comfortable around you. Is… um…" He glanced up, a little nervous to admit his feelings so plainly. "… is that okay? I know I don't really know you very well."
Vaughn smiled faintly to himself as Ilya rested down next to him. He didn’t have to bring up his schizophrenia just yet. That could wait will after the job. He set the mask down and zipped up the duffel bag once again, tilting his head to look over at Ilya, who was now on the floor next to him.
He made sure to keep his hand in Ilya’s line of sight as he brought it up to caress Ilya’s cheek softly. “Yeah, of course that’s ok. I want you to be able to trust me and feel comfortable. I’m sure we will get to know each other much better soon,” he mumbled smoothly.
Ilya had been busying himself looking at Vaughn, his cheeks and his sharp eyes and the smooth just of his nose, but he glanced away hurriedly when Vaughn started looking back, cheeks flushed a dusty pink. The hand coming up towards was enough to focus on luckily—he didn't even flinch this time when the touch landed—and then he could lean into that like he'd done before at the restaurant too, which meant he got to pretend like he hadn't been caught admiring.
"Thank you," he mumbled, words shy and half muffled. "I… I hope I can get to know you too, you're… you're very good." There was a lot of feeling put into the word, a lot of emphasis. "It's nice. Most people aren't sweet like you are."
Vaughn took note of how Ilya did not flinch at his touch. That was something that he appreciated greatly. For just a moment, his gaze flicked down to Ilya’s lips for the second time. He heard Figure snicker behind him, just out of sight. He looked back at Ilya’s eyes, brows quirking when he was called good.
That was such an interesting thing to say. Sure, he was a nice person. He had well manners and such. But he was also a serial killer. Surely that made him some sort of monster, didn’t it? Vaughn decided to not bring up that long topic at that moment. “Well thank you. My mom did a good job of raising me to be polite,” he started, the blonde, curly haired woman coming to his mind, “If I wasn’t polite, I had to do extra chores around the house, and obviously, for a kid, that was the absolute end of the world.” He was attempting at joking around. While his social skills weren’t completely polished off, he tried his best.
Ilya was pleased with himself too, pleased that he could let Vaughn touch him and not be scared. He looked down at Vaughn's lips too and then away, cheeks getting even more flushed as he realized. That wasn't right, probably. He wasn't supposed to go around kissing strangers all willy nilly, but Vaughn spoke like maybe they wouldn't be strangers for very long.
The attempt at humor earned a smile. Ilya wasn't the laughing type, not anymore, but he liked the way Vaughn talked when he wanted to be funny. It was endearing—and that probably wasn't right either, but feeling endeared and wanting to kiss someone were two very different things—and Vaughn deserved to know that he thought so. He wrinkled up his nose a little for emphasis, hiding that bright little grin in Vaughn's palm. "Yeah. Extra chores were a fate worse than death when I was little, I'd do anything to get out of them."
Vaughn watched at Ilya’s nose scrunched up. He thought the movement was extremely endearing and hoped to see more of that subtle little movement. “Me too. I’d always be the one stuck doing them, though. My sister couldn’t be of much help, so I was always the one to do them,” he hummed with a little shake of his head.
Talking about his family life was a strange thing for him to be doing. He only talked about his family life with very few select people that he’s known for years- never a client like he was doing at that moment in time. He could practically hear the voices hissing words of warning to him.
Ilya's nose scrunched up a little more and his smile got brighter around the edges. "I got my brother to do them for me, sometimes." He didn't fill in any other details. Talking about his family tugged at his heartstrings a little too hard, even acknowledging that he had a brother was enough to make his voice thicken up near the end. Vaughn made it a little easier to talk about, since he knew he wouldn't be pushed, but easier was still pretty far from easy. "But when I couldn't I would be upset for hours over it, even when it only took a few minutes."
Vaughn chuckled gently as he listened to Ilya talk about his family life. They both seemed hesitant to talk about their family. He was perfectly fine with that. They would be comfortable at some point, but at the moment it was ok that they didn’t. “Yeah, that’s definitely not the best,” he chuckled. He looked over at a clock that was on the wall. It was 5:15. He knew that Damian would be home around 6:20. It would be best for them to leave now.
“We should head to your place so I can get set up,” he said, tilting his head in the slightest as he gazed at Ilya, searching his gaze for any hidden emotions.
Ilya hummed quietly and a dozen different emotions flickered through his brown eyes. Fear first, always fear, cold and cloying and bone deep, and then there was worry and apprehension and a few different variations of anxiety. He pushed it down, as best he knew how. Vaughn would be there. Vaughn would keep him safe, kill his monster, and then he could be happy for a little while. "Alright. Um…" His eyes flicked up to Vaughn and then down again. He didn't like being examined very much, even if it was just to check in on him. "… we have to go, right?"
He needed a yes, because it was going to take necessity to make him push himself to his feet. There was a little voice in the back of his head, nagging and nagging, and he had to see it but did he really? "We have to. I… I have to?"
“Yeah, we have to go,” Vaughn breathed. His hand stayed on Ilya’s cheek, doing his best to provide some sort of comfort. He didn’t think he was the best at providing comfort, but he would try his best. He pursed his lips at Ilya’s second statement.
“It’s your choice. I can’t.. make you come or make you stay,” he said slowly. He was doing his best to let Ilya be independent. He wanted to be of help, but he couldn’t. This wasn’t his decision. While he didn’t want Ilya to be traumatized from watching his work, he knew the male had to make his own choice.
Ilya nodded and pressed his face into Vaughn's hand a little harder than he needed to. It was just that Vaughn was very real and very close to him and he needed to not think. He hated Damian with every part of himself but sometimes it was easier just to be told. When you were told you didn't have to think and it was easy because it was out of your hands.
Vaughn made things hard, with his insistence on making Ilya choose. "Oh. Oh, I…" His breaths were all fluttery, too fast. "… I don't… I… I c-can't… it's…" The words tripped out of him because they were small and easy and he didn't know how to say the ones that were big and hard. He didn't know how to say he didn't want to go, he needed to—didn't know how to explain the overwhelming mess inside him. "…. it's too h-hard, Vaughn."
