After a brief walk, Vaughn made his way into the gas station. The windows were cracked in some places and the shelves and floor was a bit messy. No one had been running it in at least 5 years. It was where he was living now. It was close enough to home. He walked around the counter to sink into a desk chair that was there, kicking his feet up on the counter. Taking out his phone, he sent his old step sister a message explaining what was happening and how she was involved. She didn’t mind it, of course. She’s always wanted to help him, though he never let her.
Ilya tried his best to explain to Damian what had happened, stumbling through an explanation about Veronica and friend and the park, but he was cut off halfway by a gruff growl and a harsh hand on the back of his neck. Damian slammed his head into the table, sneering in disgust as Ilya collapsed to the floor. The blow made him lightheaded and he attempted to scurry away only for Damian to kick him in the stomach. Air rushed from his lungs and the world spun dizzily. "I'm sorry," he wheezed, submissive and scared. "I'm so sorry, please stop."
Vaughn set his phone aside once he was done, letting out a sharp breath. He took off his suit jacket and rolled up his sleeves again. He was worried for Ilya. He had a strong feeling he would see the boy with more bruises on Friday. He wished he could get this done sooner, but he couldn’t. As soon as he got all he needed from Ilya, he could go and end it.
(should we skip to friday?)
(Yeah we can do that. I’ll start)
Vaughn was at the park that morning. He had no clue when Ilya would show, but he could wait if needed. His knee was bouncing anxiously. He sipped the coffee from a cup in his hand. There was another sitting on the bench next to him. He had no idea if Ilya liked coffee, but thought that it would be a nice gesture either way.
Ilya left the house as soon as Damian left for work, unable to stand the fear that crept into his body every time he heard so much as a squeak. It was cooler today, something Ilya was grateful for as he adjusted the hem of his turtleneck nervously. It didn't completely cover the black-blue bruise sitting high on his neck, but it was the best he could manage. When he arrived at the bench, he was surprised to see Vaughn there. Waiting. "Good morning."
Vaughn’s head quickly moved to look up at Ilya when he heard the male’s voice. He stood up to greet him, taking notice of his clothing. “Morning,” he greeted in response, not seeming too focused. His eyes were trained on the bruise. “Are you ok?” he asked, voice a tad softer now.
"No worse than usual," Ilya replied, voice raspy and cracked. He brushed some hair out of his eyes, accidentally revealing an angry cut across his forehead. There didn't seem to be much more to say, so Ilya perched on the bench, cautious and ready to flee at the barest sign of violence. His head throbbed. A cup of coffee sat next to him, untouched and too far from Vaughn to be his. "Is this for me?"
Vaughn’s eyes widened in the very slightest at the sight of the gash. It looked like it could have used stitches and disinfectant. His attention was distracted at the mention of the coffee and he reached to pick it up. “Right- yes, it’s for you. I didn’t know what kind you liked- I just got a caramel flavored one, I think,” he said quickly, holding out the cup. He was dressed different today, this time in a loose fitting maroon hoodie, a pair of grey sweats, and sneakers.
Ilya winced when he realized the cut was exposed but he didn't move to cover it. There was no point in hiding what was already out in the open. He picked up the coffee and took a sip, moaning quietly as the taste hit his tongue. He hadn't had good coffee in… years. Especially not good sugary coffee. Damian rarely let him have junk food, so the sweetness was a rare treat. "It's very good! Thank you."
Vaughn was surprised at how much Ilya seemed to enjoy the coffee. He moved to slowly sit back down on the bench, tugging a bit at his sleeves. “I’m glad you like it, you’re welcome,” he responded. He was silent for a moment before reaching into his hoodie pocket, taking out the same pill bottle as before. “Do you need any of these?”
Ilya's eyes widened at the bottle, not quite believing the offer was real. It wasn't every day he got a treat like coffee and now Vaughn was offering relief on top of that. "Yes please!" He snatched the painkillers quickly, struggling with the childproof cap and grimacing when his shaky fingers couldn't open it. His eyebrows drew together as he tried and failed, freely displaying his distress.
Vaughn smiled softly at the way Ilya seemed to light up. It wasn’t often that he had a genuine smile. It was a usual half fake polite smile he managed around clients, but this was real. But it faded when he saw how Ilya struggled. “Here, let me show you,” he offered, taking it from Ilya gently. “You just press down and twist,” he said, showing him how to do it, setting the cap aside when it popped off. He then tipped the bottle, dropping two pills into Ilya’s hands before shutting it again.
Ilya clenched the pills in his fist for a second, momentarily stunned by Vaughn's helpfulness. It was strange to be treated so well and some soft small thing fluttered inside him at Vaughn's gentle help and quiet voice. Thinking about it made something stir in Ilya's heart, so he swallowed down the pills with a swig of coffee and tried to turn his mind elsewhere. "Thank you, Vaughn. For… for everything."
Vaughn met Ilya’s gaze for just a moment before he looked away. His eyes trained at the figure which was standing on the path. ’You seem interested,’ it said ij a hissing bit of laughter. He resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Ilya was a client. Couldn’t be anything more. “It’s my pleasure. I take pride in my work, and it helps to relieve built up things. Relief of anxiety and helping people in your situation- it’s a win-win for me.”
In the excitement of the gifts, Ilya had forgotten the business he was meeting Vaughn here for and the reminder hit him like a punch. This wasn't a friendly get together, this was a negotiation. An exchange of information and services that would stop once the deed was done. He hid his frown behind a sip of coffee that now seemed overpoweringly sweet. "You had questions for me yesterday. I could answer them now if you want."
Vaughn straightened, stretching his legs out a bit. It appeared as if he was just staring off into the park in thought, when in reality he was still looking at and listening to the figure and the other voices. “Right. Do you know his schedule?” he asked, licking his lips to wet them after he spoke.
Ilya nodded. His entire life revolved around existing in the spaces Damian didn't for as much time as he could manage; he knew the man's schedule by heart. "We wake up at five, I cook while he goes to the gym and gets back at 6 or 6:15. Work starts at 8 and lasts until 6, he usually gets home around 6:20. We go to church on Sunday, then I run errands while he invites friends over that night. They play… poker. Mostly."
Vaughn listened to Ilya closely. He could get into the house towards the end of his work. There wouldn’t be others around and he could catch the man by surprise. “Alright, I think I know what to do.” He spoke up after a moment of thought. “You definitely shouldn’t be around when I do it. Some people want to stay but it’s.. very gruesome to say the least.”
Ilya winced, unsure if leaving the house was even an option. Damian hated when Ilya was outside without permission, as Ilya's myriad of injuries could attest. Last month he'd broken Ilya's arm for reading on the patio without permission. "I don't know if I can do that. He… um… he always wants me to be available to him or his friends. I'm not supposed to go outside or… or be out of his sight, really."
Vaughn shook his head. “Just leave while he’s at work. I’ll come when he’s not home. Just let me in and come here. He won’t even know or have time to know,” he reassured. “I really think you don’t want to see what’s going to happen to him.”
Ilya pursed his lips, concern evident in every inch of his body language. Vaughn was big and strong, sure, but Damian was bigger and stronger and far more familiar with turning his body into a weapon. Ilya couldn't just leave the house and wait in the park, unsure of whether Vaughn or Damian would bring him back. "I'm not going to… to break or… crack or… whatever. I need to be there. I need to see it."
Vaughn huffed lowly at Ilya’s words, shaking his head a tad. “Ok, fine. But you need to just stay hidden in a locked room. I don’t want you getting hurt when it happens,” he told Ilya, looking over at him now.
"Alright," Ilya agreed easily, staring down at his coffee cup to avoid Vaughn's gaze. It wasn't the best option, but it was good. Better than he'd been hoping for. "Will you be coming over today, or… later?" His tone made it clear he'd prefer the former.
Vaughn brushed his hair from his eyes. “I can come today. But I need to get a few things from where I’m staying- like my weapons- and I also need to change.” He liked to look professional when he was doing his work.
