Stalker | ThirdUnion

31: Tangled Up

Warnings: uh.. just so you know.. ye
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The sun rose briskly, starting another day with its painful rays. Ready to flash you in the eyes if you ever dared to look at it.

Reich was not ready to start the day. Definitely not ready to start the day in a new house with fifteen people he didn't know at all.

He was surprised for a moment when he did wake up, first he noticed the different bed he was in, then the room, and then the whole dang house.

He was a bit confused on why Soviet would leave him here alone, not that he wanted the Russian with him of course, it just seemed a bit out of character for him to do so. And the fact that Soviet let him sleep in so late was also a bit strange. He rarely did that.

Reich shrugged at that, and quickly moved the bed's covers off of himself.

He stood up, stretching a bit as his injured foot began to cramp. He immediately began searching for his boot to put on it, which he found at the end of the bed. He put it on quickly once he found it.

His foot really didn't hurt too much anymore. Though standing on it for long periods at a time was not going to happen. Walking on it was doable, and was actually pretty easy to do now. But Soviet didn't know that. And he couldn't know that.

But the more he pretended, the more postponing they had to do for their stupid wedding. Which meant Reich had more time to escape. Though his chances to do so weren't looking very good at the moment.

Reich sighed looking up from the chair he sat on. He ended up sitting down to put his boot on, but he was now distracted because of it.

He glanced over at the vanity he was sitting at. White, wooden, and equipped with a little mirror too.

He stared at himself for a moment before looking down at all the items the desk held. There were surprisingly a lot of things he would definitely use. He squinted at them from his seat, he recognized the brands of the hairbrushes, perfumes, lotions, even some makeup stuff. This... this was the exact kind of stuff he would use at his real house. Stuff that he would actually own.

The German looked away from the vanity, he glanced around the room for a moment before standing up, and walking around the bed to what he assumed to be Soviet's side.

He stared at the other's night stand. He stared and stared. Completely flabbergasted at what he was looking at.

He reached over the stand, and picked up a picture frame, a family photo it seemed to be, with himself photoshopped into it.

He stared at it. Not believing his eyes. Looking back at the desk there was also a little black box sitting on it. He could only assume that it used to hold his stupid wedding ring.

Reich looked back down at the terrible photo and placed it back onto the desk. He felt very disturbed and creeped out at the moment. He couldn't clearly comprehend his thoughts.

He knew Soviet was a weirdo, and that he was certainly a bit obsessed with him. But he didn't think, he didn't think it had gone this far. That whatever this was had been going on for so long that this all had been set up in preparation for it.

It seemed like Soviet had been obsessed with him for much longer than he had noticed.

He glanced over at the closet door, only being able to suspect what was in there. He hobbled over there and opened the door, finding the place quite organized. Soviet seemed to like things that way, planned out and perfect.

He turned on the closet's light and walked in. Almost immediately noticing the difference between the two sides of the closet.

It had been split into two, and Reich somehow found himself on what he assumed to be his side of the closet. And was surprised to see so many clothes that he actually wouldn't mind wearing. So much stuff that he could actually see himself owning.