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Chance’s skull throbbed and ached with pain, pulsating as though it were screaming out in agony. Their once playful little smirk quivered, not quite disappearing as to keep some semblance of composure, but also not necessarily a true “smile” anymore either. As he shut the door to his room in the smaller outside cabins, They lifted a hand to his temple as if it would somehow quell the pain. He always felt like this after rough rounds, broken, battered, and annoyed.
He leaned up against the door, hissing in pain from his terrible headache. It’s not the physical pain that irked him necessarily. Not that it wasn’t torturous to be ripped limb from limb every now and then, or that he particularly liked the idea of expecting to die every other day. It’s just that it doesn’t hold the same effect when you’re in a realm that trivializes all the mortal meaning it used to hold.
There wasn’t anything real to gamble with, the pain used to hold a reminder of what they'd lose, but when there’s nothing for you to lose… it just becomes monotonous at worst. Maybe that was the real hell in it all.
All that they could brush aside for a while, he’s dealt with uniformity before. It wasn’t the worst thing in the world, because monotony always had loopholes. Some undiscovered pot of gold waiting to be found, some lack of security waiting to be breached, a game to play. It was really just a matter of time.
The hard thing about it was always playing the long game and waiting it out. There’s often no signs of it and they usually bait you into thinking there might be some change, only to realize you were being tricked, so now all you can do is sit on your ass, sigh, and start from zero again.
Kinda like those fake water puddles you’d see on a hot day.
He remembered seeing those a lot in drives in his father’s fancy car before he had his license. But those were comparatively rare, considering he usually found himself fixating on a specific spot, usually the cup holder near the front of the car. Looking back, they never really sat in the front seat of the car.
It was far too difficult to deal with the pressure of being observed. Not seen, simply looked through as though he were simply another blurred figure in the background of someone else’s picture. His merit was measured through their ability to play the part well enough and stick to his own.
He was a pretty dumb kid. Total anxious freak, too. It was easier to just wait it out and try to mitigate as much risk as possible by sucking up and making himself as small as possible to patiently wait it out and make small requests for smaller freedoms. It wasn't until he first visited their parents’ casino that he saw through it all.
It was then they realized the “easy way” was just forced compliance.
Past that point it just felt good to not care.
Something about the burning hot steel of the “clicky thing” on his seat belt gave him a strange sense of comfort. His dad usually called him a bumbling fool for always accidentally touching the steel part, but he didn’t care.
Now that they thought about it, some heat actually sounds pretty nice considering how polarizing the cabins always were. It’d also give his day a bit of variety for once.
Chance slouched against the door, sighing deeply with a hand holding his fedora in place, and trying his best to forget the events from the most recent round.
He’s made an ass of himself, like usual.
Elliot had yelled at him earlier, atop the weird castle at Brandon’s in front of Builderman, Taph, and Mr. 007, who Elliot was healing. Something about wiping that smug look off of his face and doing their job for once.
And admittedly, that hurt. Elliot usually didn’t spend his precious time yelling. He had more important business to attend to. Always with that doofy waiter smile, anyway. What a hypocrite.
The worst part is he couldn’t even be mad. That goober’s smile was so radiant, so real. It’s like he had every reason in the world to give everyone the absolute best of service, the pinnacle of hospitality. No half-assery. Just pure, unadulterated passion to serve others.
After the fact, Elliot couldn't even give him the honor of looking them in the eyes. Only his back, and the others watching seemed to respect that.
He felt himself uncontrollably shrink a teensy bit at that.
It’s really no wonder the survivors collectively recognized the pizza boy as the group’s savior. He was so good and dandy all the time it made it easier to forget just how terrible their collective situation is. He reminded them all that food and good friends are the perfect remedy for bad ailments, even if you can’t properly see what it is.
All you really needed in life was a couple of people to lift you up, and in turn you’d lift them up.
…Maybe that was just the problem?
It was hard to do that when you could feel the burning stares every time you said something dumb, but you don’t know what it is. It just is, and that’s the mark you’ll leave on others forever. Sometimes it just feels selfish to acknowledge the degree of the burns you receive as a result. Especially when referring to people like Ellie.
Sure, the pizza boy could explain to him properly on how to care for himself, how to feel better. He could ask, they were sure Ellie wouldn’t have any issue explaining. That wasn’t the problem.
Just, what would the point of asking even be? It would just arrive at one conclusion.
No matter what Elliot would tell him, the conclusion doesn’t change.
He could never understand why the others always viewed his smile differently, he was just as passionate, just misguided. Just that it was that way, it had to be. He couldn’t simply be for the sake of being, that’s so dumb. Everyone has a reason that they are the way they are.
He was more than that, surely. They just wished that people spent more time trying to verify that, instead of coming to him to feel better about their own character. Not that he really tried to help himself anyway, but it would be nice knowing someone cared enough to ask.
Besides the point, a pit in his stomach was beginning to form, they could feel it wriggling around, holding them in place. These little suckers always seemed to appear at the most inconvenient moments, but right now it seemed to be just right.
It was a bit reassuring. He finally had an excuse to be alone inside of running around the main cabin like a desperate dog, looking for some sympathetic pets from some being higher than he was.
For Chance at least, he admittedly liked feeling good as all do. It was simply harder to achieve when you were looked through rather than looked at.
With a shake of their knees, they finally got up from the door, crashing straight onto their worn bed and staring up at the dated, dusty wood ceiling above them, and let their quivering smirk finally relent for the night. Despite how it looked, it wasn’t satisfying to let the smile go. With the smile, a little part of them that made them distinctly who they were disappears along with it. They could never quite decide what they preferred.
Ah well, it made no sense to dwell on it. They were content to go straight to bed as is, regardless of the grime and blood that dirtied his clothing. He turned onto their side and covered themselves in the provided weird quilt sheet for warmth.
That was, until they were jolted awake from the rims of their shades stabbing straight into their facial scar.
They almost yelped. How stupid could they possibly be? Of all nights that they could conveniently forget they had the scar, it had to be now? Seriously?
He practically ripped the shades from their face, throwing them out into their room, landing God knows where.
It didn't matter. It doesn't matter. Not anymore.
He held a hand up to try and rub circles into his scar, trying to quell the aching pain that came along with it. It’s like this one little minuscule thing just set off fifteen different subspace tripmines in his body. He groaned loudly and pressed down a little harder onto the area he accidentally stabbed himself, trying to apply pressure in hopes it would help. That dumb liquid that came out of your eyes whenever you pressed them a little too hard started to seep from it, making him mildly annoyed at best and borderline infuriated at worst.
Any and all exhaustion had immediately left his system, leaving him there back at square zero.
Fuck, he could practically feel iTrapped sneering back at him.
iTrapped?
His scar ached back, pulsating as though it were alive, just as much of a witness to it all as they are.
iTrapped made sure of that.
That bastard. He wanted to rip their own eyes out of their sockets. The damn things were functionally useless at this point, just appendages to remind him of his place, he would never get to experience anything more than this.
This moment, this feeling.
iTrapped always has the last laugh.
That laugh would reverberate around Chance’s present life, always there to psychologically torture him whenever he got too close to someone else.
But it always made them look insane whenever he tried to explain this to someone else.
He looked up at the wall, only moving one hand to properly feel his surroundings for just a moment. It reminded him of all the things he’s learned to live with. The terrible air quality, how he needs to hit their lampshade if they ever wanted to use it, and the somber atmosphere overall. It always felt like a funeral.
But more importantly…
Chatter. Background noise. Not including the small, chilly breeze or the occasional rain that would hit their windows. Just happy chatting. He could hear each different voice, inputting into the conversation and being heard, truly heard and comprehended. Their words weren’t left to return to nothing.
Not that it was necessarily a bad thing… just…
They felt the cold air of the cabin seep into their secluded room, it was jarringly silent and dead in comparison to the festivities going on in the main cabin. He went to grab at the covers sprawled out lazily on his bed in order to get even the tiniest bit of warmth in this deep freezer for a cabin.
Some part of him wanted to be able to just grow a pair and just snap out of whatever stupid feeling he was entranced by currently. The hard part was how deceivingly easy it always appeared to others as. Obviously, if you’re feeling lonely, just get up and communicate with others. It couldn’t possibly be that hard?
He rolled his eyes at the thought, how could he?
iTrapped was his sugar high, and he was her Darling. The best he’d had yet, and look where it led them. A shithole cabin that hardly has a heater.
They hated iTrapped more than anything. Not because of the fact that she left, but because of what she left them in.
How were they able to just waltz up into the main cabin to talk when they were just so…
His grimace only got worse with the continued thinking. They reached for their bed side table, grabbing their trusty coin for flipping purposes.
Elliot.
What would he think of how pathetic they were? Would he laugh? Cry? Pity them? There was no imaginary reaction that seemed to truly satisfy Chance.
That's wrong, those are all wrong.
Elliot would never spare him so much as a glance.
They flipped their coin on reflex, the notorious clinging sound reverberating through their dilapidated room.
Tails.
He sighed, a weirdly out of character sound for him. It’s not like they really felt anything about this whole thing, him and Ellie weren’t even that close.
Who were they to dwell on any criticism Elliot gave him?
In retrospect, this whole overreaction phenomenon was something he carried through from childhood. All he could do from then on was figure out ways to mitigate the depth of his emotions so it didn’t eat them alive.
He subconsciously began to palm at the fabric in between his thighs.
They leaned back against the wall behind him, air hitting his clothed back as he groaned out in boredom rather than pleasure, feeling his own annoyance growing with each pant that escaped his lips. But behind those eyes of theirs lied nothing, nothing but this present moment. Their arm moved itself inside his dress pants, grazing at their boxers before pausing for a brief moment.
He really was going to do this, huh?
They knew he said this every single time. But it never changed. Resorting to cheap tricks for some semblance of affection, jumping hurdles to hope for some type of change but it just never did.
It felt wrong. It felt as though their body was covered in honey, slowing their movements down and allowing him the freedom to take it back whenever they’d liked. A failsafe, a backdoor, something to remind them of their dignity.
But that’s all it really ever was, was it?
A “something,” never a “someone,” like a dumb circled date on a calendar to remind you to do something for the sake of something. Not necessarily unlike a corporate worker, mindlessly tapping away, hunched at a desk, amongst millions of others. Just another faceless whatsername in a sea of nobodies. He questioned as he began to strip off his pants, tossing them into the same sad corner as his forsaken shades.
If only…
“Oh dearest…” A soft voice broke through the dark, seemingly pausing to properly choose its words. “Are you having a rough time?”
Pizza boy.
This was beyond pathetic.
“I know baby, I know…” The voice cooed back at him.
Why were they imagining him? Why did he feel the corners of his mouth quiver with pure yearning in his heart, now? It wasn’t necessarily a question of whether or not he liked Elliot, he was amazing, everything Chance wasn’t. A diligent worker, a caring brother, loved by all around. It was only natural for anyone to catch feelings for someone so great.
But why was he…
“I want you here... Right now. I mean it,” Imaginary Elliot paused, then gasped to notice the growing heat beneath the hardly helpful quilt.
Ellie wasn’t even really here and he was desperate like this. Chance could blow their brains out, right now, while simultaneously feeling euphoric. He absolutely detested this, but god damn it, he could swear a chill rushed down his spine at the prospects of what he wanted to do to himself. Not so different from when…
…He felt like he was hearing the slot machines at his family casino for the first time again— feeling the rush of a winning streak sprawl up their back and giving them a small safe haven of reprise. A small droplet of watercolor in a painted world seemingly born to be devoid of it all. Sure, the rest of the painting was in desolate monochrome but he had this one moment, this one time where he could feel assured. It was easier to pretend the pointer finger that latched onto their boxers and pulled them down wasn’t their own.
Finally, the deathly addictive painkiller of arousal began to augment that tight feeling in his chest. For once, it felt overwhelming in the best way possible.
The hardened rod of a thing stood up at attention the instant it was freed from their boxers. He grimaced at first, the cold air from the cabin hitting his half nude body, but a soft whine escaped his throat at the sight as he shakily brought his hand to his half-erect cock.
“Good, it’s okay baby… I’m here with you,” The fantasy Elliot sighed out.
He softly and nervously began to twist his calloused fingers around the head of their cock, with a noticeable reluctance.
Was it too much to ask?
“Please stay put, you're doing so good,” The gentle voice seemingly responded to his queries.
He knew what the answer was, truly. But with Ellie’s sweet whispers guiding him, he didn’t have to face that question quite yet.
With a groan, he finally began to carefully grip himself before moving in long and slow strokes up and down their area. That tightness in his chest finally, bursting a bit around his body as if releasing an air bubble. The sensitivity of his lower area made them shiver with arousal. Once they settled at a careful but slightly arousing pace, his brain allowed himself to finally begin to feel numb, giving themselves more freedom to care less than they did before.
Maybe that should be his goal from now on. Made it easier to focus, anyway.
“It feels better, doesn’t it?” Elliot’s voice appeared in their mind.
“Yeah, yeah…” Chance responded in a clearly lust filled haze, noticeable whimpers present in his tone of voice.
Sounds of movement and small breathing could be heard, creating a chorus of pleasurable stimuli for Chance. They could cherish this moment forevermore, it was a small reprieve from every other fucking thing that happened here in this god forsaken realm.
He lolled his tongue out a bit after a particularly good stroke, overstimulation beginning to oversee other involuntary bodily reactions, like his legs shaking. Sweat also began to drip down their neck. He felt wetness begin to secrete from the head of their cock, slicking up their area and giving them more leeway to feel better.
“You’re so pretty, my Darling…” Elliot whispered. It was as if he could feel the pizza boy breathing right here next to him. If Chance were to close their eyes, he swore he could see Elliot showing him a genuine smile.
He let out a low groan at that, tonight was really a night for self discovery, huh?
Their movements quickened, just enough so that it would be more pleasurable than his previously set and agonizingly terrible pace, but also so that he wouldn’t cry afterwards about how shit his stamina was.
“I know it’s hard but I love you. I love you so much,” Elliot tenderly responded back to him. “I’ll stay here, you can trust me. I just want you to feel better.”
Chance practically yelled. The overstimulation they felt only continued to worsen, tears forming in the corners of their eyes, it felt like they were drunk with the way they began to fixate on the ways Elliot could come in and alleviate them from whatever the hell they were acting so childishly about.
“Are you going to cum, my sweet?” Elliot cooed at Chance.
Chance was his, Elliot’s. Right here in the confines of their room, it was possible to say that was true. They could be anything and everything they wanted right now, away from here and happy as can be. A world where they were wanted, easily within reach. Everything was okay.
Those tears that had been pricking their eyes finally fell, leaving stains on their already red cheeks. Their cock began to produce a disgusting slicking noise that echoed in the silence of their room. But that was okay. The heat that pooled in their abdomen was itching for release, the rougher he stroked himself, the more sensitive his own body got.
“You’re everything I could ever want, dearest. Whenever you’re ready, I’ll be here to help you through it, love.”
A tiny sum of pre-cum pooled at the head of their cock, slowly releasing itself from the head of their cock as his movements got more intense. Chance took in a rough breath, and bit their tongue to keep them from being any louder, it would be a ridiculous amount of embarrassment if someone wanted to come in and…
Their eyes blinked roughly at that, squinting as they sniffled, their hand stilling on their cock for a brief moment. A deep rooted feeling of dread had already ripped away any semblance of power they thought they had over themselves, their future. Their own arousal fading almost instantly along with it, and back he was with that horrible tightness in their chest.
No. That wouldn’t happen. Not to him, ever.
It was then he realized why Two Time felt so comforted by the outlandish theology they spent multiple hours of the day preaching and practicing.
The cheerful conversations from the main cabin became known again, clearly the cabin was still bustling with the activity of fellow survivors, even this late into the eternal night. It could be said they were possibly friends now, how could they not be. They all just had to be, people so great, of the same skill caliber just have to connect at some point if they’re all together for this long.
Everyone at this cabin was truly amazing, especially that pizza boy. No matter how much he whined and yelled for their mistakes, their greatness truly was undeniable. They all even meshed pretty well together, even when upset at one another, they worked with the shit they had and made it work so they could all keep on. It was admirable.
But what did he offer?
“You’re shit, Chance. Why would I ever waste my time with you if it didn’t bring me anything worthwhile?” iTrapped. It was his last memory before waking up in this hell hole. He could feel those words being snapped at him.
In this realm, memories were often dangled over his head, just close enough so that it would ruin their evening but not enough so that they would be able to alter anything about the memory. What was annoying was that the realm made everything so monotonous that it’s not like they could necessarily forget in between rounds either.
But whatever. They knew that. They knew…
… He knew iTrapped was a scammer. That much was obvious in the way she carried herself, the subtle questions she would ask about the whereabouts of their parents’ key to the Banlands. Chance was many things, but they weren’t a bumbling fool. They supposed it just felt nice to have the illusion of an immaterial purpose.
Suddenly, everything around them and about them felt absolutely disgusting.
He immediately retracted his hand from their rapidly softening cock, holding it up in front of them to see their own disgusting fluids dirtying it. Their hand shook a bit violently, just enough so that it was visible to him. Tears of agony began to replace the previously pleasured ones, his body beginning to tremble with pure shame and disgust in response to it all.
They were reminded of the headache they spent all this time repressing. The possibility of sleeping tonight has slipped from their fingers again, it seems. All they wanted was to be pounded until they couldn’t remember who they were anymore, to forget how terribly overbearing they were.
He was nothing but a degenerate slut. To even imagine Elliot being so affectionate, so loving with them, how violating could that possibly be?
Their breathing began to hasten as they aggressively slammed their dirtied hand against the sheets of their bed to clean their spend off of it. It ached with additional pain from their nasty explosion scars that fucked up their wrist, but they didn’t care much, if at all. If anything, it was a bit comforting.
They turned on their side and desperately tried to calm themselves down to stop horrific sobs from devastating their chest and making it impossible for them to breathe.
That was, until a particularly loud eruption of joyous laughter from the group of survivors in the main cabin had disrupted their ability to hold any control over themselves. They felt the symptoms, knew the warning signs of the dam breaking but… what did it even matter, anyway.
How long were they going to lie to themselves, even?
Chance screamed into their pillow.
It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fucking fair.
Elliot was certainly right in his earlier read of Chance, he was anything but consistent in his… ‘job.’ Just a bunch of “will he” “won’t he”s and broken promises, not to forget his dilapidated, fake, disgustingly smug smirk to top it all off.
No one was coming to save him and he deserved every bit of discomfort that came with it.
He just hoped that maybe, just maybe, sleep wouldn’t elude him tonight.