Captives

FOUR

Seven days ago I was wondering if we ordered enough powdered sugar for the bakery's pastry of the week. Now I'm sitting here playing nurse to a shirtless man with a stab wound. That is honestly nuts. What a drastic turn my life has taken. The thought makes me laugh to myself as I carefully replace the bandage on Sebastian's injury.

"Penny for your thoughts." He lays his hand over mine, which lingers on his bandage.

I still haven't gotten used to the eyes. Hypnotically tranquil. There's that expression that the eyes are the window to the soul, and I definitely feel that rings true for Sebastian. Such a depth to them- complex and mysterious yet impeccably comforting.

"You don't have a penny." I wiggle my hand from his, just to flick his bandage.

"Hey!" He pouts.

I smile, rolling my eyes before kissing two fingers and placing them on the bandage. His pout brightens to a smile and my butterflies are set into majestic motion again.

"So how's it looking, doc?" He asks, leaning back on his hands.

He's sitting on the bathroom counter, and I stand between his legs. If we were comfortable being close on day two, a week in and we practically have no qualms with physical contact.

"It looks okay." I eye the patched wound. "It's healing."

"So you're stuck with me after all." He teases, knocking his knees against my hips.

I give him a distracted half smile, pulling myself up onto the counter next to him.

"I was just thinking about work." I decide to share my thoughts, even without the aforementioned penny.

"Do you miss it?" He asks, carefully lifting the curl that's fallen into my face and tossing it back to join the rest.

"A little." I admit, hugging my knees to my chest. "It's the best job I've had so far. My boss is kind and so are most of the regulars." I think fondly of my time at the bakery.

Familiar smiles from the older couple that always sits near the window to eat together, the single mom that orders two of the same varying pastry for her boys otherwise they fight over them, my boss' wife that comes in on her lunch break everyday to order one slice of sugar free sponge cake. I do miss the peaceful nature of it. But I'd be lying if I said I never felt that my occupation, my life, was lackluster. Like there was always some hole I could never fill. So in a way, even though I miss the familiar routines, it's sort of nice to break free of them. Even by force.

"Do you miss the café?" I ask Sebastian.

He rests his weight on his hands again, one of them behind me which puts his strong arm pressed against my back. It's pretty hard to ignore the fact that he's half dressed. I could have easily accessed his bandage with his top on, but I am absolutely not complaining.

"Not really. It was a crappy gig." He says, leaning in closer and resting his chin on top of my head.

He's a cuddler. Physical touch is definitely one of his love languages. Not that we're in love. Or even dating. Just two people trapped together. I'm pretty lucky, honestly. You know, besides the kidnapped part. But having him here, having the reassurance of another person going through the same thing, it's very helpful. All of his touches are welcome and comforting.

I can feel his muscled torso, bare and leaned against me. So to try and distract from how absolutely drool worthy his physique is, I look down at my socks. They were on top of our hamper of fresh clothes that day, the day Sebastian was stabbed. I've wondered a few times if our captor heard us complaining about not having any. But they probably just remembered they never left any for us in the first place. That's got to be it, because if whoever this person is has been listening in on us... watching us... that makes this entire thing even creepier.