Chapter Text
It was almost midnight and Andrei was drunk on his couch. His wife was sleeping in their bed and the baby was sleeping in the laundry basket since it had no crib. The little fucker did just fine in the basket so why spend money on a crib? His wife kept nagging him about it but she’d stopped after Andrei had put her in her place about demanding money.
He groaned as he felt over the floor next to the couch for his phone. He swore when the light of the screen blinded him.
Alexei 11:53 p.m.
Your faggot brother isn’t being careful enough when he’s away. A friend just sent me this. He’s getting too damn comfortable.
Andrei threw his phone across the room as he screamed after seeing the fucking picture. His brother just always had to do something to embarrass the family. His mother offing herself wasn’t enough, now her spawn just had to make every damn thing worse.
Then he had an idea.
He got up and retrieved his phone, growling at the massive crack in the screen. He flipped through his contacts to call a person that would have a fun time handling this.
“It’s fucking midnight, what the fuck do you-”
“I have a job for you that will let you and your gang blow off some steam.” Andrei interrupted. He could practically feel the energy through the phone as his friend stopped bitching.
“Give me details and an address.”
_____
Ilya was back in Moscow and hating every damn minute of it. He hated who he had to pretend to be here. He hated how he had to force himself to never smile, how he couldn’t let himself show interest in a single thing, and how he absolutely couldn’t let a single movement of his look gay.
His brother had eyes on him absolutely everywhere here. Of course his father didn’t know. His father barely knew his own name some days. He hated Andrei. He wished that his father had never met Andrei’s mother and that she had never brought Andrei into his life after only a few months of dating his father.
Andrei was the only reason he had to be so shut down. He demanded money constantly because he knew Ilya’s secret. Only once had Ilya not given him the money and that was because he really hadn’t had anything in his account to give him. That was the day Andrei had sent someone after him with a knife. He still had the scar across his palm from where he’d had to grab the blade to keep the man from stabbing him. Luckily someone had seen the scuffle and the man had been arrested.
From then on, Ilya always made sure that he had plenty of money in his savings account and that he never did a single thing while too close to Andrei that could lead to him thinking he was embarrassing the family.
He was at his condo now, watching the flames in the gas fireplace. Sometimes he wished he could just set the place on fire and let the smoke or flames kill him.
Then he would remember that face.
Freckles, doe eyes, that crooked smile.
He moved to get up to get a beer to relax with when he heard it. Shuffling steps outside his door.
Ilya silently moved to the kitchen, grabbing the largest knife from his butcher's block. He gripped the handle tightly and watched the door.
It all happened so fast.
The bolt turned and the electronic lock was detached from the door. Strange men poured into his home and he was definitely not going to win this.
Best to go down fighting then.
He dodged a punch and slashed with the knife, catching a guy across the chest to leave a shallow but long cut.
Another ran at him to try to tackle him but Ilya set his feet and fought to not be toppled over. He threw the guy off of himself and ran.
He just needed a few seconds. The front door was blocked so he ran upstairs and locked his bedroom door. He put a chair under the knob for good measure before pulling his phone from his pocket.
Please pick up, please pick up, please pick-
“Rozanov? You never call what’s-”
“I am in trouble. You have my address. I need you to send help. I am so sorry, I do not want to scare you but-”
The group of men managed to smash the door in. Ilya tried to shield himself but one had a baseball bat.
Ilya raised his left arm while still clutching his phone in his right hand. The metal bat swung and Ilya caught it with his hand. He hissed and winced as the impact sent harsh pain up his arm. Then baseball bat guy charged at him.
Ilya was tackled to the floor and the call ended when his phone skidded away from him.
He bit and kicked and punched but it was no use.
He was dragged down the stairs and to his dining room table where a chair was pulled out so he could be tied to it with the power cord from his TV and cords that had been cut from a couple lamps. The plastic dug into his skin harshly and pinched it between coils.
“I didn’t think a powder puff like you would be able to fight back so much. Your brother sent us to teach you to stay in your place. I would have thought that you’d have earned your lesson by now.” The man that Ilya had cut with the cooking knife sneered. Russian, not foreigners.
“For fuck’s sake. You all are really here to do the dirty work for that coward? All of you are his bitches, you do realize that right?” Ilya almost regretted speaking when he was punched solidly in the eye.
“The only one who should be talking right now is me. Hold your tongue or lose it.” The man rolled up his sleeves as Ilya glared at him. His eye was throbbing and he knew it would be swollen shut soon.
“You picked the wrong guy if you think I’ll be some meek victim.” Ilya retorted with a laugh.
“That’s fine. I’ll get you silent one way or another.” The man growled. He raised his hand and Ilya quickly made sure his tongue wasn’t between his teeth.
The hits rained down on his face and head. He felt dizzy and the pain was horrible but he refused to make a single noise.
“So now you want to be quiet? Thought you were a screamer.” The man laughed and Ilya raised his head. The other four men were standing back to watch, none of them seeming to want a turn at using him as a punching bag yet.
“Nah. I’m the one who makes my partners scream. I bet you’ve never even made one cum.” Ilya grinned and lifted his nose in the air, his eyes never leaving the man’s face.
There wasn’t a verbal response. Instead, the man grabbed the baseball bat and hit Ilya over and over in the ribs on his left side. Ilya grit his teeth but a small groan left his lips when a sharp pain flared under his skin.
“Already cracking. Not so tough now are you? Faggots can never hold out. You’re all just a bunch of weak, whiny, piles of dog shit.” The man walked forward and grabbed Ilya tightly by the jaw, his fingers digging into his cheeks.
“I bet you would scream if I fucked you. I bet you would be the loudest whore in the city. Want to try?” The man tried to seem intimidating but Ilya laughed in his face.
“I doubt I’d even feel it, little guy. You seem to be trying to compensate for your tiny problem.” Ilya flicked his gaze down then looked back up. He waggled his eyebrows and that was what really broke the thug.
The man hit the side of Ilya’s head, his palm landing over his ear. Ilya focused on not vomiting as the pain, dizziness, and ringing took over his senses.
“You think you’re so cool, don’t you? I know you only get what you have by using that pretty face of yours,” The man dug in his pocket while Ilya tried to get his bearings, "I wonder what will happen if I make you ugly.” Ilya’s eyes snapped open when he heard the sound of a pocket knife opening.
Just bare with it a bit longer.
The man snapped to get someone’s attention and pointed for the other man to hold Ilya still. A hand wrapped around Ilya’s forehead and another grabbed him harshly underneath his chin. He refused to look away or close his eyes as the man in charge brought the blade to his face.
He pressed the tip in just under Ilya’s right eye, a small trickle of blood ran warmly down Ilya’s skin.
“Still trying to be tough, huh? You won’t be after this.” The blade dragged in a white hot line down Ilya’s face. The blade slid through his flesh and Ilya clenched his fists to keep from making any noise. The cut was drawn from just under his eye, down over his cheek, and to his jaw. Ilya took a deep breath when the metal lifted from his skin and his body began to shake.
“Awwww, do you need a second? Poor baby, do you need to cry? You can cry, I’ll make sure to get the tears in these pictures.” The man held up Ilya’s phone. Ilya was kept still as multiple pictures were taken of the state he was in.
“Hmmmm, oh, how cute. Your last call was to ‘My Shane’. Would be a shame if Shane got these pictures. Oops, I hit send. Hopefully he doesn’t cry.” The guy laughed before tossing Ilya’s phone aside.
It’s okay. He is strong. He will be okay. I will talk to him and tell him that I am fine.
Ilya was forced to stay silent as his mouth was held closed by the man who still held his head. Instead, he glared with every ounce of hatred he had in him.
“Aww, don’t look at me like that. I’m doing you a favor, really. I’ll beat the queer out of you and then you’ll be normal. Don’t you want that?” The man held the uncut side of Ilya’s face and rubbed his thumb over his lips.
Ilya was able to lurch forward just an inch and caught the first digit of the man’s thumb between his teeth. It was as easy as biting through a raw carrot. One moment the end of the man’s thumb was attached to his body, the next it was severed and sitting in Ilya’s mouth.
Ilya spat it on the floor along with a mouthful of blood. He grinned breathlessly with blood covered teeth as the man swore.
“You mother fucker!” The guy held his hand and kept on swearing, all while Ilya laughed.
“Oh, I’m sorry. I forgot I’m just a weak powder puff who couldn’t possibly fight back.” Ilya taunted when his head was finally released.
“You fucking piece of shit queer.” The man punched Ilya in the face some more, like it mattered. Ilya’s teeth cut the inside of his cheek but he knew that wouldn’t be a problem. Then the man got up in his face again.
“I’m gonna let my boys have you. I don’t care if you survive it or not.” The guy was absolutely rabid with rage.
“If you fuck me you’ll all be fags too.” And then Ilya spat. Blood hit the man directly in the eye and he stumbled back with a yell. He frantically wiped at his face while screaming and Ilya smiled again with bloody lips.