𝐒𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐋𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞 ; ᴮʳᵘᶜᵉ ʸᵃᵐᵃᵈᵃ

vii

AN - just before we start this chapter, please be wary mentions of sexual assault are heavily implied in this chapter, although they aren't explicitly said, please continue with caution.

Bruce awoke on the dirty, bloodstained mattress blinking as he adjusted to the light difference in here compared to the outside. Four, solid concrete walls, a phone that hung on the wall, a window, and a bathroom evident through the dark hall on the side. The boy sits up, his body weight heald on his hands, looking down and scurrying off the stained mattress, panicked and disgusted. He slides across the floor, backing against the wall under the window, looking over at the door to see the man who'd taken him, crouched down on the floor.

The man stands up, not saying a word as he walks towards the door, looking over his shoulder at the terrified boy, walking out window turning the lights off. Bruce shakily stands up, holding onto the wall for support. He walks over to the phone, staying quiet and picking it up. No noise could be heard, no dial tone or anything, he looks to the side, seeing the small, opaque wire frayed.

He sets the phone back down on the switch, the machine clicking as he wonders off into the bathroom. He pulls down on the light bulbs switch, the dark room illuminated. There was no mirror to see how drowsy and out of it Bruce was, but it was evident. The only think in there was a toilet and a package of toilet paper in the corner.

Bruce returns to the main room, looking up at the window, tears rolling down his face. This must've been what happened to Tyler, why he didn't come home and why he probably wouldn't either. The raven haired boy lays down on the floor, staring at the ceiling.

He was gonna die, just like Tyler.

<•>

Tyler didn't know where in the hell the other boys were or if it was just him who had been reborn into a ghost, but he sat alone, watching Bruce struggle to find a way out as he tried working around The Grabber. It never felt good to be objectified and talked about in that way by someone so much older than him. He felt hopeless as he spent days and days digging a hole in the hallway, trying to plan his escape. He'd dig his way out of the basement.

He knew it wouldn't work like some on-screen prison escape but there was no harm in trying, the water bill would be through the roof with how much cement dust and dirt he was flushing down the toilet, his hands stained grey and brown. He wipes his hands on his black jeans, ridding them of the discoloring so the man wouldn't notice.

He saw the blood on the mattress, the splatters on the wall in the hallway, it was evident. No matter how much Pine-sol and hot water it took, those stains were staying for a long time. Bruce lays back down on the mattress, he felt disgusting, he smelt like salt and body odor, he couldn't wash the horrible and traumatizing feeling off of him and all he wanted was to survive and his first thing to do was sit and sob in the shower.

He'd convinced himself that the large area of blood on the wall beside him was Tyler's. As if he was stabbed or slashed and slid down the wall as his body started to slowly shut down. It didn't help Bruce whatsoever, it only brought him to tears. He could only imagine what happened to the four boys prior to him, what about the twelve year old, Griffin Stagg? What happened to the curly haired boy that he called his? What about the paperboy, Billy Showalter and the scary fifteen year old Vance Hopper?

Tears pour from the raven haired boy's eyes as he turns on his side, ready to just accept defeat. He whimpers and sobs, covering his face with his hands.

The phone rings.

In confusion, Bruce stands up, staring at the phone hung on the wall in confusion. He sniffles, grabbing the phone and placing the receiver to his ear. It was silent, except for some staggered breathing.

"Hello?"

"Hi"

Bruce was immediately brought to tears, not knowing whether he was crazy and hallucinating or this was real life. "Tyler?" He speaks through tears.

"Hey, please don't cry. I can't stand seeing you cry"

"I'm sorry" Bruce speaks, wiping his tears, "Please come home, I miss you, so much"

"I can't come home, Bruce. My time is up"

"Why?" Bruce sobs, "Why does it have to be this way? What's going on? How are you talking to me?"

"I don't know. None of us heard the phone. The others tried calling, but you only heard it from me. The man hears it to, but he ignores it"

"Tyler, I'm so sorry" Bruce sobs into the phone, leaning against the wall as he cries.

"It's not your fault. None of this is your fault, Bruce. You can use the soda bottles as a weapon, he'll notice if they're gone, only break it before you decide to attack just after, you have to be ready."

"No, no. I-I still need you, Tyler. Please don't leave me" The raven haired boy pleads. "I'm not strong enough"

"No, you are strong. You hear me? You're Bruce Yamada, the best boyfriend on Earth. Understand?"

Bruce nods, whispering, "Yeah"

"I'm sorry"

"You changed me, you showed me what love was. I don't wanna give that up. I can't, Ty"

"Get out of here, one way or another."

The dial tone buzzes in Bruce's ear as he sobs, throwing the phone to the floor, pulling his knees to his chest. That was the last time he'd be able to talk to his favorite person and he couldn't even say goodbye.

It made him want to just give up and die, he had nothing left to live for if he escaped. He didn't want to live with the trauma and pain, the suffering. But he'd try anyways.

For Tyler.

AN - damn that was kinda upsetting wtf. anyways I need a plot for a Vance fic, anyone wanna help?