Ilya's shoulder's folded inwards. "People…" he licked his lips, pushing through the haze of sudden fear he felt at talking about Damian. "People don't really know he's an abuser. He grew up famous, he has… connections." He bit his lip. "He uses them to cover up the… um… the things he does."
Vaughn nodded in understanding. “But then how is his information still in the registry? That’s how I found him,” he questioned, arching a brow. He could tell Ilya was anxious, so he gave the male’s hand a squeeze and laced their fingers together better.
Ilya squeezed Vaughn's hand as well, focusing on the warmth of his hand instead of the pain of past memories. "His boyfriend before me was… um… his dad was a congressman. So he… he pressed charges. But Damian threatened him. He… uh.." Ilya struggled to remember what had happened. "He dropped the charges and moved away, I think. And Damian got his friends to keep it out of the papers."
Vaughn huffed softly, waiting to speak until after the waitress who had walked over set their food and drinks down. “Well, he’s still in the online registry under accused but never convicted,” he explained. Idly, after his fingers twitched, his thumb began to rub the back of Ilya’s hand.
Ilya flinched like always but relaxed remarkably quickly, soothed by the gentle treatment. He took a sip of his lemonade with a soft smile on his face as butterflies danced in his stomach. "I'm glad that you found him on there. The odds of me getting out on my own were… minuscule."
Vaughn continued with the movements of his thumb. It seemed to make Ilya happy and put him in a better mood. “I’m glad I found him too. I’m happy that I’m able to help you get out of this,” he said, squeezing Ilya’s hand gently. He had to be careful with the male. Ilya seemed so much more fragile than him. He looked away as he picked up his burger with his one hand, biting into it.
Ilya's smile only widened, wavering and flustered but genuine, and a light blush dusted his cheeks. He squeezed Vaughn's hand in return. It was strange to be treated so well for so long- for someone to be willing to hold his hand or take care to treat him gently- and he glowed under the attention. He picked up his burger as well, scarfing down what he could manage quickly. "This is delicious!"
Vaughn let out a little chuckle when Ilya tasted the burger. “Have you even had one before? They’re really good,” he responded. He took another bite, his knee bouncing under the table. Ilya acted like he hadn’t eaten in days by the way he was eating so quickly.
It only took Ilya a few minutes to polish off the rest of the burger, finally coming up for air once his plate was clean. He'd forgotten to eat breakfast that morning, too busy cooking for Damian to sneak away some food for himself, and Damian said he hadn't earned dinner the day before. Most of his day was spent hungry. "I can tell! That was delicious! And… um… no, I haven't. I didn't know you could put bacon on a burger."
Vaughn raised his brows as he watched Ilya finish his burger. He had only eaten about half of it in that amount of time. “Well you can, and obviously it’s delicious,” he responded with a little smile. But he had to ask. “Ilya, do you.. eat often?” he asked after a moment.
"Mmhmm," Ilya answered cautiously, worried about the tone of voice Vaughn had taken. It was overly concerned, like he was trying to brace himself for bad news. Ilya squeezed his hand comfortingly. "I get a meal every day. Sometimes even two if Damian decides I've earned it. Of course… I don't usually get anything this big."
Vaughn obviously seemed concerned when Ilya said that, a frown forming on his lips. “That’s terrible, a person needs more than one meal a day. What do you have to do to earn a second meal?” he questioned. He wasn’t interested in his meal anymore. He was too concerned for Ilya’s health at the moment.
Ilya frowned as well, trying to think of a time in his life when he hadn't been surviving off one meal and whatever he could scrounge up and coming up short. Was that not normal? "Just… um… just be good for him. Maybe let him… ah… touch me or have to do favors for his friends." Ilya said it like it was perfectly normal, tilting his head at Vaughn in confusion. "I mean… it's pretty typical."
Vaughn frowned a bit heavier. Touching and favors. It sounded typical for an abusing relationship. “It’s not normal,” he breathed. “You should be having three good meals every day. Your partner shouldn’t have to make you do favors or let him touch you for food.”
Ilya blinked in confusion, eyebrows furrowing together as he processed what Vaughn was telling him. "But that's so… easy. Life's not… It's… I can't…" He stumbled through the beginnings to a hundred different questions before he finally found one that fit. "People can do that? Just… just eat 3 whole meals without… without anything?" His voice was small and disbelieving.
Vaughn nodded his head a bit. “It’s completely normal to eat three meals. In the morning, the afternoon, and the evening. It’s necessary to do so to stay completely healthy. I’ve seen people before do this in abusive relationships. It’s not normal,” he explained, giving Ilya’s hand a little squeeze.
Ilya squeezed back, deciding to trust that Vaughn was right. Wanting to believe that he was right. "I… um… I just never really got that. Not at… at any point in my life." He burrowed into Vaughn's sweater to hide from the information he was getting, more comfortable wrapped up in layers of fabric that smelled like safety. "It's all just… a bit much to realize."
Vaughn let out a soft breath as the voices seemed to snicker. “Not at any point? Not even before Damian?” he asked, obviously seemed confused by what Ilya was saying. The figure tilted it’s head in its own interested way, it’s fingers gripping onto the edge of the table.
"Not that I can remember," Ilya confessed, looking up to gauge Vaughn's reaction and seeing only confusion in his eyes. "Um… my dad was… like Damian. Abusive. I had to earn food from him too, and I… um… I wasn't smart enough to do it most of the time. So I usually just got one meal a day."
Vaughn felt his stomach sink at that. Ilya had suffered from his father too? He tensed, it reminding him of his own dad. His fingers twitched quite harshly, and he reached up with his free hand to dig his fingers into the longer area of his hair, looking down for a moment as he gripped the strands. “Did he make you do the same things to get your food as Damian does?”
Ilya flinched more majorly, head titling downward and shoulders collapsing in. Vaughn seemed angry. Angry men threw fists. Still, he held on to Vaughn's hand like it was a lifeline, needing the comfort. "No! Um… it was mostly about preparing me to… to take his place one day. He was a politician. Wanted me to follow in his footsteps. So… um… he made me answer questions for meals. If I didn't answer enough right, I… I lost food privileges."
Vaughn didn’t comment on the flinch this time. He was too concentrated and distracted by the voices and the figure making thoughts cloud his mind. “I see..” he said slowly, seeming very unfocused. Thoughts of the new found abuse and his father and Ilya were whirling through his mind, along with all the voices. He felt overwhelmed. “I need to use the restroom,” he said in a quick and unsteady mumble. He stood quickly, hand slipping from Ilya's before he walked away. He went into the single bathroom and locked the stall, leaning forward against the sink. He stared at himself in the mirror, thinking he looked like an absolute mad man.
Ilya winced as Vaughn let go of him and stalked away. He was obviously angry or, at the very least, disturbed and the thought of being hit kept him glued to the seat. It would be worse somehow if Vaughn was the one who hurt him. Still, something was definitely wrong. He stood hesitantly, working his way over to the bathroom and knocking lightly on the door. "Vaughn? Are you okay?"
Vaughn turned on the faucet for the cold water, taking a moment to wash his face off, it dampening the tips of his long strands and droplets dripped down his cheeks. The figure was standing behind him, and the corners of the room gradually got darker and seemed to close in on him. “Why would you make me remember that?” he murmured to the figure. Ilya was there and had already spoken, but the words were blocked out in his mind. To Ilya, it sounded as if he could be on the phone or just talking to himself. “I didn’t want to think about that. You didn’t have to show me that-“ he inhaled sharply and his tone broke. The figure rested its hands on his shoulders. “No, do not touch me. I don’t want you here right now,” he snapped at it, but it just continued to grip tighter and get louder and continue smiling. He was getting overwhelmed now. When it wouldn’t get off, he couldn’t take it anymore. He lashed out, feeling not in control of his body. His closed hand hit the mirror, putting a decent sized crack in it that caused spider web like marks to spread out along it. With the pain that caused of his already callus covered knuckles to split open. He felt like he was sweating. Things were quiet now besides his heavy breaths.
Ilya flinched instinctively at the sound of glass breaking, knocking more insistently on the door. Was Vaughn okay? Had something happened? He'd been talking to someone angrily, had that person attacked him? "Vaughn!? Please open the door!"