"But… but we left so s-soon after… after you were done." He didn't want to think about the way Damian looked when they left, or the pools of blood Vaughn had left in his wake, because then Damian would poison this place too, with his smashed in face and his single glassy eye. He didn't want that. The store was small, yes, but it was tidy and bright and it felt much, much safer than anywhere else he'd lived. "We didn't have time to clean any of it up, and… and there was so much blood." His voice shrank a little in the end, memories creeping in, so he distracted himself by babbling, just a little bit. "And it's n-not that I don't feel s-safe here or… or anything like that, it just… it seems like we didn't have time to do what we'd need to."
He felt a little guilty about referring to them as a we when Vaughn had done all the work, but there were bigger things to worry about. Once he'd said his piece he curled closer and waited, hoping that despite his doubts, Vaughn would find some miracle answer that made everything better.
Vaughn listened closely as Ilya voiced his concerns. He completely understood why Ilya was worried. Anyone in their right mind would be. It had been a messy murder scene, one driven mostly by passion and emotion rather than his usual ‘get in, and get out’ process. But that could be a good thing for them. It could cause the investigators to second guess themselves on who killed Damian.
“Everything will be ok. I checked around quickly after it all happened, nothing was left behind. I’m used to doing these things quickly, so I know how to look for things in a short amount of time. No one is going to find anything there,” he tried to reassure Ilya. He pressed himself closer against Ilya. “How about we grab something for breakfast, ok? Whatever you want, we can have it.”
It didn't magically dispell his answers the way Ilya wanted to it, but it was at least enough for him to relax a little more in Vaughn's arms. He didn't shake anymore and he felt like he could breathe again, that was close enough to magic for him to be grateful. "Okay." He loosened his grip on Vaughn's shoulder slightly, using the shelf to push himself up to his feet. "Breakfast sounds nice, let's… let's go to the kitchen, then."
He wasn't exactly sure where the kitchen was, or even what he wanted, but it was a nice change of pace after his little freak out earlier so he was determined to participate. "Um… where, exactly, would the kitchen be? And… what do you have, too? I'd like to make you something nice."
Vaughn held still as Ilya got up. He reached over, grabbing on to the shelf and using that to slowly pull himself up. At the mention of a kitchen, he felt his face grow a tad hot with embarrassment as he glanced around the small store. "Well… There really isn't one here. There's plenty of basic food and a microwave in the back, but not an actual kitchen…" he admitted. It was barely a suitable place for him to live. He did not eat much filling foods anyways. He would have healthy little snacks mainly, and would occasionally stop at a diner. The only time he actually ever got real food was when he would visit his foster sister around once every month at her apartment, and they would make some proper meals.
Once they were both standing Ilya made his way back to Vaughn's good side, pressing close without even thinking about it. "Oh! That's alright, I'll just… I'll see what I can do with that!" He gave Vaughn a small smile, all soft around the edges. It wasn't ideal, sure, but Vaughn had taken him in, so he was more than happy to work with what he was being given. And anyways, it wasn't like he cared much either way. Food was food, and he had never really gotten enough of it before. Healthy or not, microwaved or properly cooked, as long as Ilya could eat he would be happy. "Do you have a table to sit at or… um… or do we just eat out here?"
Vaughn smiled faintly when Ilya pressed up against him, and he draped one arm around Ilya loosely. At the mention of a table, he pursed his lips a tad bit. He did not have that either. He was usually the only one there, so he always sat in his chair at the counter for the poor excuses that he called meals. He never expected to ever have company, so he felt very unprepared for all of this. He was raised with manners and to be polite, so he felt he was was doing a horrible job at being a host towards Ilya.
"We'll have to eat out here. It's always just me here, so I don't have anything like that," he mumbled, licking his lips subconsciously and reaching up to tug a hand through his hair. He found that pulling on his own hair was a nervous tic of sorts that he had developed over time. "Sorry this is so complicated, I was not expecting to have guests any time soon." He had tried his hardest to make some sort of joke to lighten the mood a bit and push down the embarrassment that he was feeling at the moment.
Ilya winced a little as he recognized the guilt on Vaughn's features, pressing a little closer in a weak effort to distract him. "No, no, it's fine! I… um… I was the one who pushed to come, I… I should just… " He would've said go or leave or something equivalent, but even thinking about doing that made his legs start to feel shaky. He wouldn't survive all on his own, he was sure of it, but he didn't want to sit around here and pile stress onto Vaughn either. "… um… I… I d-don't mind, is… is w-what I m-mean." The finish was a little shaky so he forced himself to take a breath before he continued. "I don't need a table or a kitchen or anything, I just… I need to be around you. And I can do that, so everything else is just… just icing on the cake, you know?"
Vaughn leaned a bit into Ilya, feeling a little relieved that Ilya was not disappointed that he did not have any sort of proper set up for a meal. The part about Ilya only needing to be around him warmed his heart in the slightest. "I understand," he started, before reaching to take Ilya's hand in his own, giving it a little squeeze as he turned his head to look elsewhere. "I appreciate the reassurance, so thank you." He sounded quite timid when saying that, which was most likely why he had tried to avoid eye contact while saying so. It was strange to see Vaughn act all small after knowing that he had violently killed a man the night before. He seemed violent because of his actions, but he was a very timid and soft spoken person most of the time. He obviously put up the 'tough guy' attitude to keep himself safe.
It was rare that Ilya stepped up into a protector role and he had never exactly been good at it, but he tried not to think about that too much as Vaughn sank in on himself. "Of course!" He put more strength behind his words than he usually managed, giving him a soft little smile. "I'm not exactly high class either, I don't need much to be happy. Just you and food and… and this thing, that we have going on between us." There was another slip of a smile and then he was lacing their fingers together, pulling Vaughn's hand up to his lips so he could press a kiss to the back of it. Was this reassuring? He wanted it to be, but it felt more like he was putting on an act than anything else. "Although, I… ah… I could use a chair, or… or s-something, if… y'know, if you really feel that bad about it." He tried to put some humor in it and mostly succeeded.
Vaughn noticed how Ilya was trying to step forward to take some sort of charge of the situation. While it was only something small, he greatly appreciated it. He seemed a tad bit surprised by the affectionate action of kissing the back of his hand. He pressed his lips together, feeling a tad flustered by the movement. He decided to return the action, lifting Ilya’s hand to his lips and gently pressing them against the male’s knuckles. He thought it was only fair for him to return the favor. “Yeah, you can take the chair. I’ll stand or grab a box to sit on next to you,” he started. He seemed to be feeling a tad bit better, judging by his posture. “What do you feel like having to eat?”
Ilya's smile got a little brighter when he saw his efforts had helped, cheeks pink from the soft kiss. He pushed himself up onto his tiptoes to kiss Vaughn on the cheek when he straightened up, tugging him gently into one of the aisles so he could figure out what there even was. All the choices seemed to overwhelm a little because he quickly turned back to Vaughn. "I don't really know what we have," he said. The selection was a little too much, it was hard to process all at once. "… but… um… maybe something sweet? If that's alright?"
Vaughn seemed to lighten up further when Ilya pecked his cheek. He have Ilya’s hand a little squeeze as they began to walk. He walked with a noticeable limp in his step. That was because his ankle was aching with each step. That reminded him that he needed to go and grab some of his pain medicine soon. “Of course we can have something sweet. I think here we have doughnuts, pop tarts, sugary cereal… That’s just the breakfast foods. There’s other sweets, too though,” he explained, tugging Ilya to the correct isle with a lot of the sweets.
Ilya saw the way Vaughn lit up when he kissed him and quietly promised himself that he'd do it all the time, just to see the little grin on his face. He liked the way Vaughn looked when he smiled, it made his face light up so nicely. Of course, his happiness didn't last long after Vaughn started limping. He stepped in to help, doing his best to take enough weight to help, and together they limped through the sweets aisle.
Ilya was again, slightly overwhelmed, but Vaughn had offered choices and that made it much easier than picking something at random. "How about pop tarts then, I… um… I used to like them, I think. Can we cook them in the microwave?"
Vaughn leaned a tiny bit of his weight against Ilya. He would not put too much of it against the male because he was a decent amount larger than him. He looked over at the pop tarts, picking up a box of the strawberry flavored ones from the shelf. He thought that was a go-to flavor. “Yeah, we can heat it up in the microwave,” he hummed with a little smile.
The microwave was on the other side of the counter. He led Ilya back over there, opening up the box and taking out two packages. He unwrapped them, popping them into the microwave. After setting the timer for thirty seconds, he allowed them to heat up. He led Ilya over to the desk chair by the counter. “Go on ahead and sit down, I’ll grab a seat for myself and the pop tarts.”
Ilya gave the box a glance, more curious than anything else. He barely remembered all the pop tart flavors were, much less what they tasted like, but he liked strawberries well enough and anyways, it was better than the scraps he was used to eating. "They're smaller than I remember," he said as he watched Vaughn load them into the microwave, cocking his head to the side as they spun and spun.
He plopped down in the chair easily enough, pulling Vaughn over to lean on the counter so he could take some of the weight off his side and his leg. "I'll go get another package, um… is that alright? I know you said it was okay to have big… um… or… or bigger meals, but that was the diner and this… ah… this is your house and I… um… I don't know if the rules are different or…"
Vaughn leaned against the counter, listening to Ilya. “Yeah, of course that’s ok. There’s no rules here on how much you can eat or whatever. Have as many as you want,” he hummed, nudging the box of pop tarts over to Ilya. “While you do that, I’m going to grab something for me to sit on.”
He stepped away, taking his time with walking as his limp slowed him down. He went into his main room and paused, looking over at his cot. He slowly got down on his knees, digging under it and pulling out a box. Inside, was a few photos, pieces of paper, a small stuffed elephant, and a yellow file folder that was stuffed with other documents. He ignored those things and went for the two bottle of pills that were inside. One was labeled Olanzepine, which was used to directly treat schizophrenia, and the other was Benztropine, which was used to treat tremors and tics. He had been slacking on taking both. Figure hissed loudly behind him at the sight of the pills. It was angry, it did mot want him to take the pills. “I have to, I feel so sick,” he murmured to the Figure, who’s presence he could feel lingering behind him. A hand went into his hair, gripping it firmly while the other hand held the pill bottles.
Ilya waited for longer than he really needed to, glancing back towards the main room as the microwave beeped. When Vaughn failed to appear he loaded up another package, then another, and then Vaughn was still gone and he began to worry. Last time Vaughn had excused himself he'd ended up in the bathroom with bloody knuckles and a broken mirror, and he was so bruised up already. He should at least go check.
"… Vaughn?" He pushed himself out of the chair, slowly making his way to the door. Going in felt too much like an invasion of privacy so he lingered behind it, fiddling nervously with the hem of the hoodie he still wore. "You… um… You've been gone a while, are you alright? I know we're not the… the closest, but you… ah… you can t-tall me about… about anything that's b-bothering you. I won't judge, I'm… I'm not the most together either. And… I'd like to help if I can, or even just know that you're okay."
Vaughn tilted his head and looked over at the door for a moment. Figure chuckled, though it sounded more like a raspy hiss. He was not sure how calmly he could answer. “I’m ok- I just need a minute,” he stammered out the best that he could. He gripped the pills tighter in his hand, jaw clenched tightly. The hand that was tugging on his hair began to cause a bit of pain. His scalp felt tender from the harsh sort of grip. Figure’s sharp fingers brushed along Vaughn’s neck, and he found it a tad hard to breathe.
After a moment, he began to feel sick. He quickly did his best to scramble up, shoving the box under the cot. In the process, he spilled the pill bottles as he hurried to the toilet in the bathroom. He leaned over it, coughing harshly. He felt like he was burning up, and when he leaned away from the toilet, the bowl was splattered with dark blood. In reality, he was perfectly fine. It was just his delusion- there was no blood, no fever, no nothing. But it was real to him. Was something wrong with him internally? He looked at himself in the mirror as he rested on the floor, blood spilling from his mouth- though in reality where was nothing there. His hands reached up to wipe it away, successfully smearing it across his face.
For a few moments Ilya felt alright with staying in the doorway, but then he heard Vaughn coughing over the toilet and his thoughts stopped being quite so sensible. There were two different outcomes tugging at his mind, one that screamed at him to leave Vaughn to his privacy an be good and another one, more terrifying by far, that left him wanting to scratch his way out of his skin. Vaughn was coughing, what if he'd been hurt this whole time and Ilya hadn't been there to fix it? What if he was retching his guts out over the toilet right now, dying because Ilya was too much of a coward to go in and help.
"Vaughn?" His voice was a little louder now, more urgent. He knocked sharply on the door. "That sounds bad, can I please come in? I… I really don't care what's happening, I promise, there's nothing… nothing that would upset me, so just… just please let me come in so I can help you."
Vaughn held his stomach, body trembling as he bit his tongue tightly. ”You’re so small… It’s just a bit of blood. Man up. Suck it up,” Figure hissed, and a shiver went down his spine. He reached back up and dug his nails into his scalp. Hearing Ilya made him flinch harshly. He did not want to be seen like that. He coughed again, and blood spilled from his mouth once again. There was blood now, though. It dribbled from his nose, and as he clenched his hands together tightly, his nails made crescent shaped cuts in the flesh on his palms. His head felt like it was going to burst from the pressure.
The reality was his current panic attack. That was the thing about them- they came about for absolutely no reason at completely random times. “Medicine- I need the pills,” he coughed. He did not want Ilya to see him like that. He did not know if he was ready to admit his mental illness to the male yet. He clawed his way over to the main area, now seeing how the pills were scattered. His fingers twitched harshly, his tics growing worse from his anxiety. As he reached out to grab one of the pills, Figure slammed its foot down on his hand. He yelped sharply, the delusion causing his fingers to feel like they were being crushed. “D-Don’t come in,” he stammered out in a loud, slightly panicked tone. He was deep into his delusions, and in his mind, he did not want Figure to hurt Ilya.
Hearing Vaughn wretch and whimper made it hard to stay still, but the raw desperation in Vaughn's voice had Ilya paralyzed. He wouldn't push, he couldn't, but he had to do something. His heart felt like it was beating too hard in his chests, breaths coming in desperate little gasps, but he forced the fear down. Vaughn needed him right now. Vaughn was hurting and he needed pills and he wouldn't let Ilya in, so that left one option. He was going to have to talk his way through this, and if he panicked too then that absolutely wasn't going to happen.
"Okay! It's… it's okay, Vaughn." He slid down until he hit the floor, knees curling up against his chest so he had something to hold onto and steady himself with. "Listen to me, okay? I'm here and… and I'm not coming in, so you don't need to worry about that, I just… I… um… I'm gonna talk you through this." He took a shaky little breath, hoping it was quiet enough that Vaughn wouldn't hear. "Can you tell me what's wrong? Or… or at least how you're feeling? I can't help if I don't know what's happening and… and I'd really like to help."
Vaughn let out a choked noise as he spat out blood from his mouth, though in reality it really came from the blood that was dripping from his nose. Figure got off his hand, and he took a swipe at it. It hissed at him, showing its razor like teeth. It grabbed him by the hair, dragging him to sit up. It’s other hand gripped onto his throat, claws digging in.
In reality, he was sat up, gasping and clawing at his throat. He could barely hear Ilya’s voice through the fog of it all. He felt like he was dying- was he dying? His legs kicked out to try and get Figure away. One of his hands shot out to feel the floor for his pills. “Pill- Need it-“ he gasped out sharply, coughing as he began to feel lightheaded. “Can’t breathe, can’t breathe-.” His voice was choked and strained. He was being choked by Figure, though in reality it was his own hands that were pressed around his neck.
Ilya really, really didn't want to go inside without permission, but wants went right out the window when Vaughn started making sounds like he was dying. He hated himself as he grabbed the doorknob, slowly pushing it open until the full scene was revealed to him. It took him a few moments to take everything in—pills on the floor, Vaughn bleeding, Vaughn choking himself and making the worst gurgling noises he'd ever heard—but when he finally processed he forced himself inside, taking cautious steps over to his side.
"Oh… Vaughn, please… please don't do that." He brought a hand up, resting it shakily over Vaughn's. He didn't want to push him or pry at him, primed to expect violence in response to the intrusion of privacy, but he couldn't just sit there and do nothing either. His free hand came up to cup Vaughn's cheek gently after a few moments. That one shook too, like a leaf in the wind, but he did his best to pet Vaughn's cheek soothingly despite it. "You're going to hurt yourself, and… and you already h-have hurt yourself, and that's… that's no good, so… um… we… ah… w-we're going to get you t-taken care of, okay?"
Vaughn tried to choke out a couple more warnings to Ilya, but he was unable to. Now Ilya was in the room, and he felt panicked. He let out a soft noise, almost like a whimpering and terrified child. He squeezed his eyes shut tightly, feeling them well up with tears. Ilya’s hand on his face felt so strange, but it was almost grounding in a way. He managed to rip Figures hands from his throat- dropping his own hands away from his neck- and inhaled sharply before coughing as he caught his breath. His hands scrambled to grab multiple pills. He had no idea which ones he was taking or how many of each there were, but he didn’t care. He tossed them into his mouth, gagging softly as he swallowed around four pills completely dry.
He panted as parts of his body- specifically his hands and head- twitched, his tics appearing harsh from the amount of anxiety he was feeling. He felt completely drained, causing him to lean heavily against Ilya as he caught his breath. His eyes were still shut as he hugged onto himself tightly, body shivering harshly as he felt himself break into a cold sweat.
Ilya winced as Vaughn downed the pills, slipping a hand down to rest against the back of his neck. It would be nice to take Vaughn in his lap but their size difference meant he was more likely to be crushed than comforting. "No, no, let's… let's n-not do that again, okay? Come here." He tugged Vaughn down as gently as he could when his hands were still shaking, so his head was resting in Ilya's lap and it was easy to card through his sweaty hair. "Let's… um… let's just t-try to breath, okay I'm here and… and I've… I've got you and you're going to be okay." He calmed down slowly as he talked, trying to reassure himself as much as he was Vaughn.
For a long time he just sat there, petting Vaughn's hair or rubbing his back until they had both been quiet for a few minutes. He was still pretty far from relaxed, but he wasn't on the verge of freaking out anymore and he felt better equipped to help without crying to having a panic attack. "Do… um… do you think you can tell me what happened, please?"
