Chapter Text
The stark brightness of your laptop screen makes your eyes water, your hand coming to rub at the stinging discomfort. A small sense of relief passes over you in seeing the online payment in your bank account, courtesy of your employers while the shop is rebuilt.
The whole building, reduced to a pile of ash, and no traces of what caused the devastating fire.
Though, you suspect it isn’t a what, but who.
In your overthinking mind, it wouldn’t be a reach in the slightest to assume the guilty party. With what you know, how you feel, Shouta and Hizashi are far from innocent in all this. Yet the issue stands that it’s really just speculation - you have no evidence.
If you sought out real heroes, or the police, what were you to even say? It’s their word against yours, and it’s so painfully frustrating. Because you remember what they did, the ghosts of their touch linger all over your skin, remnants of bruises now faded and surface wounds healed.
But it’s only your memory. They wouldn’t even think to consider what would be baseless suspicions in their minds, no matter how many wrongdoings you brought up.
The list of criminal acts and accusations goes on and on and on if you really think about it - which makes you want to think even less.
Stalking, for one. It’s the real elephant in the room - how they knew too much about where you were, what you were doing. Walks home started to feel less relaxing, and gradually your nerves frayed more with each odd noise coming from darkened alleyways. Of course, that’d be passed off as paranoia after being attacked, rendering the complaint useless.
So too was true when it came to the undeniable fact that you were heavily under the influence when the two took advantage of you, and so who would really be at fault for what happened.
Your most recent concern - the broken lock on your window - might just be the least useful matter at hand. The apartment complex you lived in was old, things broke down, end of story.
Even before all of that, who would earnestly question two upstanding heroes of society over the suppositions of someone like you. In all likelihood, most would disregard you for more pressing matters, things that were important because they could recognize it as such with their own two eyes.
It was the one thing standing in your way - your lack of evidence.
Without work, you had plenty of time to mull over your situation. Thinking about how you tried avoiding the two heroes; look where it got you. Any more pondering was out of the question.
The pay you’d been earning at the shop doesn’t come close to affording you the privilege of simply moving away from this mess all together, as much as you desperately wished it would.
It’s been a week since the fire, and every waking hour has been spent wracking your brain for a way out of this mess. Leaving you with one concrete answer.
You needed proof - tangible evidence of their wrongdoings. Get it, show whatever authorities will spare you a glance, let them deal with the legalities of what Shouta and Hizashi have done.
Any other plan you’ve thought of leaves you where you are now. Defenseless, dealing with the two by yourself, completely vulnerable to their manipulation. While you hate the thought of playing right into their hands by voluntarily seeking them out - there aren’t any other options.
Which, regrettably, is how you’ve landed yourself at their front door.
You pray silently to yourself that the outline of the microphone under your shirt isn’t noticeable. Or the shake in your voice as you greet Hizashi while he ushers you inside.
But he doesn’t seem to notice, him or Shouta. In fact, they seem as overbearingly ‘nice’ as ever. They’ve already got dinner on, and the blonde tells you enthusiastically to get comfy wherever you want in the meantime.
So you do, hearing them chat about work momentarily in the kitchen as you make your way into the living room. Which, just your luck, connects directly to the stairs. Upstairs, that is, where you hope with all your being some kind of proof of guilt lies in their bedroom.
A quick glance to make sure the two are still occupied in the kitchen is all you take.
The less time you spend in this house of unbearable warmth, the better.
----
God, you didn’t realize just how expansive their bedroom was. You suppose being pro heroes, the two have the money to renovate. Because the bedroom made up the whole second floor.
In your past drunken haze, you’d forgotten how you’d made it into their bed, but now you see just how much there is to deal with. What you need to search through, in order to find evidence to finally pin something on them.
Where to start, you can barely decide. Yet you have to - time is running out. They’ll see you’re missing from the living room eventually, and then it's only a matter of time ‘till they find you
So you start with the drawers of the night stand. It holds a few trinkets. A book, some house keys - backups, you assume. And…a box of condoms.
You close the drawer, trying your best to silence your unbearable thoughts of that night.
This time you go for something a little more obvious. Under the bed. That's where everyone keeps their secrets, right? As quiet as possible, you get down on your hands and knees, head poking down to find…nothing. It's absolutely barren under there.
The next thing your eyes land on is the bathroom. It’s tidy, making your search easier. But there’s still nothing to find, cabinets and drawers empty.
With your focus shifted to the search, you fail to notice the silence of the floor below you. A distinct lack of chatter, no clinking of dishes in use.
A huff of frustration heaves from your lungs. It's only a second, but you take the time to clear your thoughts, head tilting back and eyes closing in contemplation. You have to find something, or else this whole thing will be for nothing. You’ll be back where you started, alone and nowhere to go for help.
You have to find something, anything—
“Sweetheart?!”
It comes from downstairs, the voice slightly melodic and worrisome. Hizashi is looking for you.
And yet, you’re caught up in the ceiling tiles. That is, because one is just ever so slightly off. Like someone didn’t place it back correctly, not taking the time to line it up the right way. It peaks your interest.
Brows furrowed, you carefully climb onto the countertop. The cool granite bites at your knees, but you ignore it, rising to your feet.
Downstairs, Hizashi is looking around the living room, seeing that you’d left your bag on the couch.
Your fingertips are just able to reach the white ceiling. They push up and to the side, doing your best to move the tile that weighs more than you expected it to. You wince at the scraping sound it gives as you displace it more.
The blonde fails to find what he’s looking for—you.
His partner peers out into the living room as well.
It's dark, but there’s something in the expanse of the empty space above the tiles. A…bag? Small, no larger than a toiletry bag, but when you go to pick it up, it’s dense. Solid, like the inside is heavily padded.
Standing there on the counter still, you take the zipper and begin to open it…
“Maybe she went to the washroom?”
The solution Shouta offers is nullified when Hizashi looks down the hall to where the other suggested.
“Nah, door’s open still.”
…The bag flips open…and you don’t know what to think of the contents.
Padded cuffs, folded together.
A bottle of pills with no label, you can’t tell what they are by just looking at them.
Some sort of…auto injector? You can see the glass syringe is already filled with a strange clear liquid. But again, there’s no label in sight to tell you what it should be used for.
Just then, off in the distance, there’s a thud.
Then another.
And another.
Someone is coming upstairs.
Your heart race skyrockets, the tension in your chest pulling tighter than it ever has before. It almost paralyzes you, until you once again hear the concerned sound of the voice hero. He’s calling out, but you can barely discern his words when you’re hearing turns into ringing as your panic increases.
All you can do is fumble with the bag, trying to get it zipped shut.
The steps are nearing the top of the stairs.
Shakily so, you put the bag and ceiling tile back into place. Your feet finally land on the floor as you rush across the room and towards the stairs.
It's where you come face to face with Hizashi.
You all but run into the taller man, thanks to how he caught you by the waist.
“Woah there, whatcha doing all the way up here?” He sounds like he’s in good spirits, but you hear the tinge in his voice. A curiosity that’s less playful, and more on the side of caution. And his smile—it’s too forced, the expression unnerving you.
A weak smile is all you can offer back, as if the contents of your stomach aren’t about to make a reappearance with how god awfully nervous you are. “Uhh…just, looking for the washroom is all.”
You know he doesn’t buy it, but Hizashi plays along.
He chuckles slightly, “Missed the one downstairs?”
Why does he have to pry into the situation, now of all times?
With a dry mouth, you begin doing your best to come up with a response.
“What are you two doing up there? Dinner’s ready.”
Neither of you move.
His eyes look down at you, scrutinizing just a little harder for a moment. Then he’s back to normal, yelling a quick “‘kay” over his shoulder.
“Let’s go sunshine—food’s awaitin’.”
_____
Dinner went quick, which was fine.
What wasn’t was the fact that you still didn’t have tangible evidence to use against the two heroes.
Now, sitting by the fireplace with them, you need to get to work. Maybe they’ll slip up, you think. Accidentally admit to something damning, your hidden microphone ready to catch it.
But for that to happen, you need to provoke them. Which means you have to stick around for what you hope is only a short chat.
“...I’m sorry for what happened between us.”
And just like that, all eyes are on you.
Shouta narrows his gaze. “For what, exactly?”
You take a deep breath, giving a pregnant pause. “Well, you know…for the phone call, after that night.”
There’s a distinct silence in the room as they process your apology.
“The one where you told us to never contact you again? Right…I think we need to talk about that.” The dark haired male continues the conversation with a sternness you’re all too familiar with. He stands, talking as he does. “Y’know, even if you didn’t mean it, people don’t just say things without there being at least a little truth to their words.”
He fills a glass with wine.
“Which leads me to asking…what would you gain by cutting us out of your life?”
There’s a tremble in your fingertips as you take the glass he hands to you, which you know better than to drink. Hizashi’s eyes are all attentive, possibly wanting the answer to leave your lips more than his partner does.
You begin to bait them. “It wasn’t like that, well not really. I guess sometimes you guys can be a little…”
Maybe they’ll fill in the blanks, you think.
Instead, their focus remains still.
You resign yourself to having to spell everything out for them. “...overbearing?”
Again, the room doesn’t change; save for the fact that your mind is doing backflips trying to read the thoughts of the two. Shouta is stern as ever, but so is his partner - that’s the unusual part. It gives you a bad feeling, how serious he is. How they both are, and how it makes the atmosphere thick with tension.
As if pointing out the obvious, Shouta speaks up, not denying your claim in the slightest. “Surely, you know why we act that way?”
“...He’s right, pumpkin. I mean, ya don’t have the best track record when it comes to keepin’ yourself safe.”
Alright, there’s the hook you need to get them talking.
In a faux attempt to lighten the room, you give a short laugh. “Well, I can’t read your minds when it comes to that. I know I’m not the luckiest person, and things haven’t been easy for me; but, what’s the big deal when I’m happy at the end of the day?”
You think you hear Shouta grumble something under his breath, shaking his head in the process.
“Really, sunshine?” Hizashi’s voice has a layer of what you can only discern as disbelief to it. “I don’t wanna hurt ya feelings, but ya can’t be that dense.”
With the most oblivious look on your face, you retort. “...What’s that supposed to mean?”
The men are silent at your behaviour.
While you still believe your actions these past months are justified, they continue to think the opposite. It’s led them to do unspeakable things, and you need them to admit it. To resume their attitudes that leave you suffocated, just enough for you to use it against them.
Shouta lifts his gaze from where it was trained on his glass in thought of what to say next. “Where do you want us to begin? With that quirk of yours?” He stands, pacing towards the fireplace, “Yeah, that’s a good starting point — the way you just ignore how bad it is for you.”
You feel a pull in your chest, but you ignore it to focus on the lecture you’re about to receive.
“You’d think that by now you’d realize how dangerous it is paired with your attitude—” Shouta’s tone is gruff and resentful, but you let it slide for now. “—which, by the way, is also a reason why bad things keep happening to you. What, from not knowing how to say ‘no’ to someone, to your perfectionism at work. Should I keep going?” He leans against the fireplace mantle imposingly, drink abandoned and arms crossed over his chest.
This time, it’s Hizashi who speaks, acting as the good cop to his bad cop type partner. “What he’s tryin’ to say is that you need us to be there for you.”
“‘Specially if you can’t even handle yourself in a goddamn crowd.”
Shouta’s accusation was quiet, but you caught it. And it stung, hard. Slowly, you felt yourself being torn down by his words.
“Excuse me?”
There was something in Shouta that changed, something breaking loose; like it had been tearing him up from the inside, just waiting for the opportunity to be freed. You’d provoked him far too long, and now he was prepared to let everything spill. Like it didn’t matter what he said.
“No, you need to hear this—you asked for it.”
The blonde tries to intervene. “Shou’—”
“She’s weak, and saying what we’re both thinking won’t change anything anymore.”
Oh, how wrong he is, you think.
Or rather…thought.
It’s not your anxiety, this feeling is different. Like a disconnection from your brain to the rest of your body - barely there at the moment, but it makes your mind hazy. Light, even.
Something isn’t right.
The two are letting loose all of a sudden, and you know it’s not the drink that’s causing it. It’s like they have no care in the world for what you might do after the fact.
Your brain is screaming at you to leave, right now. “...You know, I think I might call it a night here actually.” You say it with the most pleasant sounding tone, getting up in the process.
Unfortunately, the dark haired male isn’t having any of it. “Sit back down.”
And your body obeys, mind not able to reject the dominance he expels. All the while the feeling in your head worsens, a certain drowsiness prickling more and more.
“Sorry, angel, but ya can’t run away from your problems anymore.”
What the hell does Hizashi mean by that, and why does it terrify you to no end.
“He’s right, we’ve given you plenty of time to fix your lifestyle, but you still haven’t done a thing to change. It’s just one unhealthy decision after the other with you. We’re not just going to sit and watch you waste away anymore.”
Why do you feel so weak?
You don’t even realize the blonde has come to sit next to you, a supportive hand being placed on your back. “Maybe…the fact that you haven’t changed all this time means you just don’t realize you need to. And instead, you need help to figure that out — our help.”
Move, you tell your body. But all you can manage is to slowly look at Hizashi, whose expression is kin to someone trying not to scare a wild animal. Like he knows you want to run, but you can’t.
Your eyes train on something beyond him — the dinner table.
Was…was something put into your food?
Oh god.
“I…I think I’d like to go home now.” Your voice cracks mid sentence, shaking with fear.
“No, no, no — you’re okay songbird, don’t worry.” His hand rubs at your back, trying to comfort you as foreign chemicals work through your body.
Why are they doing this, now of all times?What do they have planned?
Shouta slowly stalks over, observing how you’re finally being affected by the carefully dosed sedative he mixed into your dinner. When he gets to your form, he kneels in front of you. A calloused hand reaches out.
“Don’t think we didn’t know about this either—” He speaks as deft fingers dip beneath the neckline of your shirt, plucking out the apparently not so hidden microphone. “You think as heroes we don’t notice things like this?” He sighs, “Maybe it’s just another point that proves how naive you are.”
Your eyelids are growing heavy, mouth dry. “That’s…n-not true. M’not…not naive.” Even speaking is growing too difficult of a task, which only instills more fear into you.
This can’t be happening.
Hizashi lets you lean into his side, as you grow more tired by the second. “We know you’re scared, hun. But don’t worry — we only wanna take care of ya, okay? Just go ahead and relax for us.”
His partner helps out, guiding you by your shoulders until your head is laid in Hizashi’s lap. Shouta’s hand comes to slowly stroke your hair in a soothing manner as he speaks in a voice that’s taken a gentle edge to it. “We’re bringing you somewhere safe, where nothing can hurt you…even yourself.”
Every last ounce of defiance in your body goes into keeping your eyes open, still feebly trying to will your limbs into helping you escape.
…But it’s no use.
The damage is done, and realize you’ve walked right into your own demise.
You should’ve found another way - a method to punish them and free yourself, one that didn’t put you in a position so painfully vulnerable. And yet here you lay, having fallen into their arms with no defenses left.
“Shh, ju…to sl…safe…kitt…”
Shouta speaks, but you’re too far gone to make out the meaning of the phrases that enter your mind in broken pieces.
Somewhere in your heart, you feel this was bound to happen at some point. The two heroes have an unwavering spirit, far stronger than yours ever was.
You can only close your eyes; silently praying that somehow, your freedom isn’t gone for good.