#please tell me someone understood the linkin park reference in the title

[mirohtron]

in the end (it does matter)

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anonymous asked: Can you make a part 2 to lonely?👁👁

@sweet-sinner69 (tumblr pls let me tag them) @why-am-i-on-this-website-anyway and @selectivegeekwithstandards also requested for a part 2 hello im sorry for the tag but i spent four days on this i will not let my work go unseen /lh

first part here.

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They didn't know how it exactly happened, but one second they were on the floor of their apartment, sobbing, begging hero to not hurt them, and then next they were sitting in the booth of a McDonald's, patched up as good as hero could do.

Plasters covered some cuts on villain's hands, the ones that hadn't scabbed over yet, and underneath their sweater, the gash on their arm was firmly wrapped with bandages.

It all happened too fast; villain's mind had been going a mile a minute, and hero had to calm them down and promise they wouldn't hurt them, and, in an attempt to not stay alone with hero and get kidnapped somehow, villain had requested they go outside. More like beg. Unprompted.

That was why hero was in their apartment in the first place, right? To get villain to hero's base? Or maybe eliminate them? Villain couldn't stomach that. Being in their room with hero had been near-asphyxiating, and villain's agency had told them time and time again that the heroes wouldn't hesitate to eliminate villains.

It was why they'd brought the two of them to the mall and made hero sit in a McDonald's booth with them. There were people. A lot of people. Hero wouldn't try to kidnap them in here, hopefully. Probably. They looked professional, trained for this. They wouldn't try anything that could harm civillians.

Something in villain's chest twisted. Something regretful, something pained.

They wished they were one of those civillians.

"Do you wanna order?" hero asked gently, hands at their sides and under the table.

Villain opened their mouth to answer, but their breath caught in their throat. Did they? They didn't know if they had an appetite or not, and eating with hero could still risk being sedated and taken to hero's base.

Their left hand furled into a fist.

"I—I don't have any money," they finally answered, voice a little raw. They'd forgotten to pick up their wallet in their hurry to toss their sweater on, not wanting to risk any stranger worrying about their bandaged arm. People were too kind sometimes, and even if that societal trait could help somebody, villain didn't want to risk anything.

"That's fine," hero assured, "I don't mind a little spending. Do you wanna check out the menu?"

Villain swallowed. They didn't realise their answer could count as a "yes."

Their gaze locked onto some part of the table between them, debating.

"...how did you get in?" villain asked instead. The question had been prodding their mind even before they had realised it was hero they were crying to. Were they that horrible at keeping their location a secret? Wouldn't that mean other heroes knew their location, too? What about villains?

Their blood ran cold.

"One of my colleagues placed a track you."

If possible, their blood ran colder.

"What?"

"They're a telepath," hero explained, seemingly not noticing villain's internal panic, "they put a tracker of sorts on you. Your location was determined from that."

Villain's throat felt parched. Did that mean the telepath could read their mind? Could they read their mind right now?

Some salty taste settled in the back of their mouth. They felt horribly seen. It was uncomfortable.

"Is it still on me?"

"No." Hero shook their head. "They took it off once we learned of your location."

"Oh." Villain looked at the few plasters on their knuckles. Maybe hero was lying, maybe the tracker was still on them. But they couldn't be sure. Hero hadn't tried anything malicious yet, they didn't look like they'd even hurt villain right now.

Perhaps it was because there were civillians here. They looked at one of the tiny scabs on their skin. Hero had hurt them in fights before, what would stop them from hurting villain later? What if they got home, and hero was there to beat them bloody?

They felt a little sick.

"Hey," hero said after a moment. Villain looked up, and they couldn't see a hint of malevolance in their expression. Hero looked a little guilty, on the contrary.

Hero glanced at villain's knuckles. "I—I didn't... know you were so scared. Of me." They looked at villain's knuckles again, brows furrowing, swallowing. "I was—I didn't... I'm sorry."

"Don't be."

Hero pursed their lips. They looked like they wanted to say something else, like they wanted to protest against villain's words, like they should be sorry, but instead they nodded, looking down at their lap.

Villain pressed the tips of their fingers up against their palm as the silence between them grew heavy.

"Why were you in my bed?" they asked next.

"You pulled me."

"...what?"

"I was expecting you to be awake," hero said, "but you were asleep. Then you, uhm, you pulled me. To the bed. I didn't want to wake you because you looked tired."

Villain pulled their hands to themself, wanting to look smaller. "Oh."

Who does that? Villain wanted to hold their head in their hands. Of course, their touch starved self would do that. Of course, since they hadn't had a nice touch in a long time, their sleeping state would want someone. They wanted to ask how long hero was stuck like that, hoping that maybe they awoke soon after, but instead,

"Why were you sent?"

that came out.

Hero laughed, like they were nervous. "I wanted to talk to you about that, actually," they said, looking them in the eye, "after you'd eaten something. I wanted you to be a little more relaxed."

Oh. Villain's breath hitched. No one really thought about their comfort anymore. They weren't expecting their archenemy to.

Tears pricked at the corner of their eyes, but villain desperately blinked them away. Oh.

Hero didn't seem to notice. They shifted in their seat, putting their hands on the table. "They told me you were harmless," they said, "after my colleague took away the mental track, they... We know it was an invasion of privacy, but."

Villain's stomach hollowed out. They read their mind, didn't they? Villain supposed they had to. Of course they would, if they were given the opportunity. All they knew was that villain was some spiteful nobody.

"You don't want to be a villain, do you?" they asked, searching villain's face for something.

Villain bit their bottom lip to stop it from quivering. They shook their head, fingers digging into the leather of their seat. They absolutely didn't. They'd choose to be a civillian over a villain over and over again, if they could.

"They said you couldn't handle it."

"I can't." Villain sniffled dryly, looking away. When had they started crying again? "I really can't."

"It'll be okay," hero said gently, "we want to take you in. For reforming. Do you want in?"

Villain's gaze snapped back up. Reforming?

They searched hero's face, looking for a lie. They hoped hero wasn't lying. Hero wouldn't lie about this, right?

The agency had always told them that heroes wouldn't want anything to do with villains. Maybe the agency was lying. They had to be, because otherwise hero would have taken villain out the second they'd laid their eyes on them, right?

A sob broke their throat, and hero had rounded the table and was by their side in an instant, holding them close and stroking their hair. Reforming? Could they be safe as a civillian now?

"I don't wanna get murdered in a dirty street corner," they said quietly, hiding in hero's neck again. They sniffled, fingers clutching their shirt desperately.

"I know, we’ll handle that for you," hero said, rubbing circles on their back soothingly, "I suppose that's a yes?"

Villain nodded, sobbing harder somehow. "It is," they said, "it's a yes."

They wouldn't have to hurt people anymore. That was good. It would be fine. 

Hero told them it would be alright, that they'd just done what they needed to to get by, that they could leave villainy behind, and that the butterfly effect wouldn't be cruel to them anymore. Bad things wouldn't pile up anymore, and they wouldn't have to use their powers to hurt ever again.

“Do you wanna order?“

“Yeah.“

In the end, they got a free McDonald's meal and a lot of nice touch.