Chapter Text
…
The stage lights are too bright. The audience is too loud.
…
Why are they cheering?
…
Nothing that just happened is worth cheering about.
…
He’s…
He’s dead, they’re both dead. And yeah, maybe that's the name of the game and all, but this time it didn’t happen where it couldn’t be seen in another room, another part of the game entirely, it happened -
Right in front of him. And then again, right behind.
And the first -
No.
No. No, he didn’t have a choice. Sandbag would’ve killed him, but - but he didn’t mean to -
Or maybe he did.
‘Out of everyone here, don’t you think you deserve it the most?’
If Eddie didn’t before, he’s confident he does now.
He was trying to protect Sailor, and Eddie was trying to live -
But he shouldn’t have done that. He should’ve found a better way, should’ve done more, should’ve been smarter, quicker – or he should've let himself get shoved right off that platform because that is what he deserves -
His legs are suddenly weak. The adrenaline is quickly wearing off, and the pain is starting to blur his vision. Sailor says something beside him, half holding onto him as he starts to sink down, but Eddie can't understand it over the high-pitched ringing in his ears, getting louder until it drowns everything out besides the rapid thudding of his heartbeat.
He coughs, choking on it. He can only taste metal. It's hard to breathe.
He's sorry.
Fuck, he's sorry. For this, for what happened before, for -
He's sorry, he's sorry, he's sorry…
But before he can figure out how to get the words out, or focus his gaze enough to find where to direct it, how to do anything at all anymore, two guards, much stronger, take him around his upper arms, and start to drag him off the stage.
…
They're not gentle.
…
Good, he thinks, even when he can't keep his head up anymore.
Gentle is not something he deserves.
♡ ♤ ♢ ♧
“Eddie.”
…
“Shit, you gotta wake up!”
There’s hands on his neck, pressing right where it hurts the most. The pain is what brings him back, until he’s coughing and groaning and reaching up to try and push them away.
“Eds!”
…
Benny…?
But his arms don't actually move, and the word doesn’t actually come out. It’s just a gurgled sound, and the hands press down a little harder.
“Can you open your eyes? Please? So I know you’re not dead?”
He wishes he was. Too loud. Too damn loud. Too bright. But he really wants Benny to stop sounding like that, so he does his best to blink, to look up at him.
“Jeez, hey. Hey, Eds…you scared me…”
He’s still hurting Eddie. Eddie doesn’t know, or remember, why. His mind is completely blank as he stares up at him, and then behind him, at the ceiling of the bar.
He’s on the couch in the corner there. The one Bones had pointed out. The one Vega had been sitting on.
Vega is…
“You’re still bleeding. I, uh – I don’t really know what to – Poppy’s lookin’ for that medkit, and I think Rook — I thought – I thought there's gotta be bandages in there, somewhere, but, uh – I’ve got napkins, for now, I guess –”
That’s why he’s pressing. The collar. The fight. The spikes, digging deep into his flesh, hurting in a way he's never experienced before.
Where had the guards gone? How had he even gotten in here?
Benny’s covered in blood. He can see it now. On his arms, and stained into the white stripes on his jacket.
Had Benny carried him?
…
Jesus, fuck, is all that his?
Benny glances down at his clothes. Maybe he hadn't realized quite how much until now, because his breathing picks up and he shifts uncomfortably on his knees, leaning over Eddie more. “Please, please stop bleeding…”
Eddie wheezes out something like a scoff. If he were to die, it'd give Benny a better chance at winning this, right? Shouldn't Benny want that? Shouldn’t Eddie?
Or could he possibly leave here, with Benny's death on his hands, too?
“Eds, don’t…hey, keep your eyes open.”
No one should be this worried over him. He’s not worth that. Never has been.
And he can't help but notice there’s no one else behind Benny. The bar is otherwise empty.
Maybe they hate him after all that. They should. Maybe they’re all where they should be, with Sailor, trying to comfort him after what Eddie had just made him go through.
He wonders if the audience can see this now. He wonders if that's what it's for; entertainment, emotion, while they try to fix themselves up.
He probably should've watched the fucking show…
The bar door opens, and Benny turns. Eddie can’t see his face, or who came in, but he hears Benny’s anger as he spits, “Get out.”
“Really? Before you even hear what I have to say?”
Vick.
He remembers that, on the platform. How Vick had grabbed Benny, shook him, threatened him. Benny had hardly seemed phased, but Eddie had wanted to –
To…
…
He’s so…so tired…
"There ain't anything you can say that either of us wanna hear!"
"Oh no?"
He sounds too confident. Too much like he's the devil come to take advantage of the unlucky.
Eddie has to say something, or at least stay awake, because he can't leave Benny alone with him. He can't. He...
He…
Can't keep his eyes open –
Shit. Shit, no, stay awake –
…Benny…
…
♡ ♤ ♢ ♧
Benny would throw something at the asshole if he could. If he could do more than just glare, which isn't enough. Why the hell is he even here? Why would he be? He'd been perfectly content to relax while Benny watched the rest of the game go on on the screens.
He'd looked when that all happened, though. He'd looked in time to see all of gruesome, gory moments of torture and death to the end.
Benny wouldn't, when he watched before. He's not a psychopath. He doesn't even do well with blood.
But this time he couldn't move. Couldn't breathe through the entire thing, until Eds was safe on that platform. Looking worse for wear, yeah, and he hadn't even really known how bad yet, but alive.
He's never known someone on the show before, much less –
Much less Eddie.
Eddie is different. He's just different. Benny hasn't played pool or eaten food or fucking survived death or just – talked…with anyone else here.
Maybe he shouldn't have let himself feel, even if he's not sure how he would have stopped it.
If he'd had to watch Eddie die –
He shakes his head. “I said no. Get out!”
Vick doesn't move. He tilts his chin up, looking over Benny's shoulder. “He’s bleeding out.”
"He's – he's not dying.”
“Not yet. But if you don’t do something for him soon…”
“I’m doing everything I can! And Poppy –”
“They aren't going to find much.”
Benny feels a little cold at how certain Vick sounds about that. “…Why?”
Vick scoffs, crossing his arms. “There was one kit for everyone. You think if they really cared about medical care they would’ve dumped him backstage and left you to carry him back? I thought it was blondes who were supposed to be the stupid ones…”
They had. They'd probably have dropped him on the floor if Benny hadn't cursed them out and shoved them away and grabbed Eddie himself and told them not to touch him again.
"You know people are probably fawning over that display at home…"
“Shut up. I don't care about them. All I need is bandages, something I can cover these with –”
“You sure that’s all?" He gestures, far too disinterested for the situation. "He's out again, by the way."
Benny looks back at Eddie. He’s even paler than before, breathing even harder. “Shit. No. No, no, Eddie, hey, damn it –”
"You want to give him a chance at standing again?" Vick asks, and then he holds something out in his hand.
A roll of gauze, and some medical glue. Benny stares, and had to close his mouth after it drops open in shock.
“Where the hell did you –”
“Doesn’t really matter, does it?”
“No. Give it.”
Vick doesn’t move.
“Seriously? You’re just gonna –”
“You pissed me off,” he says. “And so did he. You want me wasting the only supplies I have on him without even talking about payment first?”
Eddie’s breathing quivers loudly. He takes a loud, wheezing gasp in, and then goes very still for a second, and Benny thinks he fucking died before he exhales again.
"Christ…"
He didn’t. Not yet.
He will, though, if Benny doesn’t agree.
“Fine, fine, okay, whatever, jeez – what do you want, a sorry? I’m sorry!”
“No you’re not. You were trying to save him then, and you’re trying to save him now. You could've gotten me killed, and neither of you would've thought twice about it."
Benny grits his teeth. Eddie whines softly, and Benny realizes he squeezed harder, and forces his fingers to relax back to the pressure he'd held before. He hadn’t meant to hurt Eddie, shit, he hadn’t meant to hurt anyone –
"I — yeah. Okay. I get it." He takes a breath, and looks over at Vick. “What do you want?”
“Something,” Vick says. “You’ll do what I ask you to.”
“I can’t move –”
“I’ll fix him first. And then you do it.”
“Do what?”
“Tick tock,” he says. “You want him to live, or not? Yes or no.”
“Yes,” Benny whispers, and he just doesn’t care how pathetic it sounds. “Fine, fuck, whatever you want, just – yes! Help him!”
Vick smiles at him. It’s fucking unnerving – Benny’s really never seen him do that before.
“Go get some water. Not from the coolers. They have bottles in the carnival."
“I can’t –”
Vick comes closer, reaching out, putting his hands over Benny’s, and Benny flinches. “Don’t –”
“Quiet. Move. Water, now.”
Benny breathes hard, slips his hands away, and allows Vick to press down instead. He backs up, staring at all the blood on his skin – Eddie cannot die, not yet, he can’t let him – and then turns on his heel and runs out.
♡ ♤ ♢ ♧
Eddie’s skin is clammy and cold beneath Vick’s touch, even if the blood still steadily oozing from his wounds is warm.
It's the second time they've been alone in a room together, with no one else around. He looks a lot different now than when he'd been up in the VIP room, face flushed as he handed over chips just to know more about Benny, looking disappointed when Vick gave him hardly anything at all.
He'd asked about Vick, too. Even if Vick laughed him off, he likes that Eddie is curious about him, and he likes knowing everything Eddie doesn't.
He'd liked the way Eddie had made himself smaller when Vick talked about him.
He doesn't know everything, of course. But he knows enough to be certain Eddie would be just as eager to do what he needed to keep Vick quiet about it.
Eddie really thought he was smart. Whatever the reason for him deciding to ally with them, he's regretted every second of it, and Vick likes that too.
“Quite a show out there, Gates.” He presses down, trying to rouse him. Eddie’s eyes squeeze shut a little tighter. “Touch and go for a while, but…you pulled off your role nicely, in the end.”
He pushes more, until Eddie groans and finally blinks up at him.
“There you are. Can you hear me?"
Eddie blinks again. There's some damn nasty bruising around the eye he's had covered this whole time, only now just barely visible from where his sweat-soaked hair has fallen back, and Vick hums.
"You should probably stop pissing off people bigger than you," he says. "That seems to be something you like to do. Looks like it never really works out."
He shrugs, leaning a little closer. "But I have to say, honestly, I couldn’t have pulled off a better stunt myself. You just murdered someone on live television, and for what? Trying to protect a child. Isn’t that something? It's not like you'll pick up the role of babysitter. He's alone now, thanks to you."
Eddie’s breathing hitches. His eyes glisten with tears.
“Aww. Don't look like that. I’m telling you did good! You made yourself interesting. You made yourself a threat. You're desperate, and they'll be dying to see how far that makes you go next. Yes, they're going to love watching us. It almost makes up for what a pest you’ve been. Telling people I’m a snake…trying to convince them not to hear me out…"
He tsks, letting go over one side of Eddie’s neck to trace a finger along his lips. Blood starts to trickle down, wetting Eddie’s already solid red collar. "Maybe you deserve to bleed a little more for that, hmm?"
Eddie looks up at him, and he seems…
Mildly lucid. Enough to have a glint of anger in his expression, even if he can’t say anything. Enough for Vick to see that he hates it when Vick pushes his finger between Eddie’s lips, until it’s against his tongue.
“I could do anything I wanted to you right now,” he says. Eddie breathes a little quicker. “And you’d just lay there and take it, because you can’t do anything else. Isn't that right?”
He puts a second finger in, then drags them wet back out over his bottom lip so it shines.
“Honestly, that's all you do anyway, isn't it? Take it. Go where and do what you're told to. Come when I whistle like a dog. Even if you’re too much of a coward to fully go for your role – at least when we want you to – you could be of some kind of use to keep around. Couldn’t you?"
He runs his hand down Eddie’s chest, fiddling with his collar, his tie, the buttons on his shirt, and then slides his fingers up under them both until they're against the skin of Eddie's hip.
A tear runs down to Eddie’s hairline. He opens his mouth, but nothing comes out.
He looks terrified. And that's good. Perfect, even. He's been much too confident.
"You sure do hate being touched. I have to wonder why. Some of it has to be because you know you're tainted down to your very soul, right?"
Eddie just stares at him. Even the anger is gone. He's just…helpless.
"Mm. Yeah. It's good you know what you are, too. I wouldn't worry so much about it affecting me. That Runaway, though…and oh, don't you just long to poison him?"
The door opens. Vick puts his hand back with the other, and Benny comes in, gasping for air with two bottles of water. “Here – I – here – shit – ”
“Sit down before you faint, too.” Vick rolls his eyes, and gestures beside Eddie. “There. Run the water over his neck. It’ll all need to be clean before I shut them, or he could die of infection later.”
“Okay.” He opens one, and starts slowly trickling the water over the wounds. Eddie gasps in pain as Vick thumbs the spot of each puncture, and then dabs them dry with one of the clean napkins strewn about the couch.
It must hurt like hell when he starts manipulating the skin around them. Eddie flinches, and actually finally manages a fair attempt at pulling away. He turns his head, and his arm raises a little –
And Benny stops him. He takes Eddie's hand and pulls it back down.
"It's okay. We're fixin' you!"
"You're not doing very much," Vick says, and Benny huffs.
"Just – easy, Eds, yeah? You're gonna be fine."
Vick squeezes the holes back together and glues them shut, one by one, until that side is done, and then does the same to the other. Eddie keeps fucking trying to move, keeps making choked noises that Benny tries to shush, but then he passes out again, and that makes everything a lot easier.
Weak, Vick thinks, as he finishes up, and then he sits back; the kid's as fixed as he’s going to get down here. Benny’s in near tears, the idiot, as Vick wraps the gauze around Eddie’s neck, and stammers as he speaks.
“He’s…h-he's okay…"
“I don’t know if I’d say okay,” Vick says, wiping his hands off onto Benny’s sleeve. “He bled all over the damn place. Better just hope he’s good enough he can play the next game, whenever that is, or they’ll eliminate him for not being worth watching.”
Benny grabs Eddie’s arm tightly. “He’ll be good. He just…” He looks down at him. Sentimental, or maybe in love. Ridiculous – but exploitable – either way. “He just needs a rest. Right, Eds…?”
Eddie stays asleep. Benny manages to get him to drink some water, even if he chokes slightly on it, and he looks a little more relieved after, his hand stroking through Eddie’s hair.
Vick watches him.
He’s cute. Both of them, so pathetically, tragically adorable.
“You know, you start doing that on stage and you might just become the audience’s favorites…”
“Yeah, ‘cause that’s what I want.”
“It should be. The more they want to see of you, the more they’ll –”
“I know how the show works. I know.”
“You sure act like –”
“Just go away, will you? I –”
Vick grabs a handful of Benny’s hair. Benny gasps, cuts off, and stares up at him. Any other time he would’ve surely shoved Vick off but, oh, Vick did just do something so nice for him, didn’t he? Saved his little friend?
“About that payment,” he says.
Benny shivers. He clears his throat, and tries to pretend he didn’t. “Yeah, whaddya want? Chips? ‘Course it’s chips. Sure, let’s go play some games. I’m real good at them. I’ll make however much you want. You gotta let go, though, first…”
Vick holds onto him a second longer, and then releases him. He stands, and fixes his suit, and steps back, gesturing.
“…Right now…? Uh…yeah. Okay, yeah, um –” He turns to Eddie, brushing hair out of his face. It is a little less twisted up from pain, now. He just looks asleep. He probably will be for a while. And good – he isn't needed right now.
“Be back soon,” Benny says to him quietly, and then takes a breath, stands up, and nods. “Yeah, whatever. Let’s go then.”
He shuts the curtain in front of Eddie, as if it’s anything protective, and then goes first, trying to make his worried glance back as subtle as he can as Vick follows him out of the bar.