am i making you feel sick? - minishaw

in your basement, i grow cold.

simon woke slowly. it felt harder than it normally did. his head felt heavy, his eyes felt heavy, his mouth was dry. he couldn't feel his arms. he squeezed his eyes closed and tried to wet his mouth. it tasted bitter. he wiggled his arms, they were numb and he didn't know where they were. they kept hitting something at the same time. each other, simon realised, they're hitting each other.

he pried his eyes open. he thought he was still dreaming, because he wasn't home. he shut his eyes and opened them again, but the room didn't return to normal. nothing changed. he wasn't home. he was here. in this room with no windows. a basement? where was he? and how did he get here?

his head was still heavy and he realised that nothing was supporting it. he was sat up, in the middle of a room he didn't recognise. his heart sped up as he went from one realisation to another. the adrenaline helped him move his head and he looked down at himself. he was on a chair, his ankles were zip tied together. his panic grew and he tried moving his arms again. they were behind him, and he could feel now. a zip tie was attached to his wrists too.

he could hear his heart racing in his ears as he tried to pull his arms apart. he wished he payed more attention to those videos he'd watched on how to break zip ties. he never thought he'd need to. he groaned with the effort as he tried snapping it but all it did was make his wrists sore. he tried his ankles instead and got the same result.

he bucked in the chair to try and escape but he was tied to it. he could hear desperate sounds, it sounded far away, but he realised it was himself. he stopped and tried to catch his breath. what happened?

he tried to remember. what happened? what happened? what happened? but he couldn't. the last thing he remembered was falling asleep with harry on his sofa. he couldn't figure out how he got here. he let out a frustrated groan and started pulling at his restraints again.

he looked around for cameras, if this was a prank he'd be so angry, but he didn't find any. he hung his head back painfully to try and see anything behind him. just a freezer and an old sofa. the sofa looked vaguely familiar but simon moved on. he looked back to his body. he was wearing the same clothes.

where is harry? is he safe? simon checked around the room again. he was definitely alone. harry wasn't here. so where was he? he flailed on the chair, angry at himself for not being able to remember. what if harry was hurt? what if someone had broken into the flat and killed him and taken simon hostage? simon's stomach twisted and he pulled his arms desperately. his wrists were sore and the air smelt metallic. he kept pulling.

he thought about how he'd been recently, with harry specifically. simon had been so engrossed in looking through john's pictures that he'd barely payed attention to his boyfriend. he couldn't remember the last time he told harry he loved him. what if he'd never get to tell him again? simon made a choked sound and curled into himself as best he could. he'd convinced himself now. someone had broken in, taken simon, and left harry for dead. harry had bled out alone in his flat and simon had been dragged away, harry would never know how much simon loved him.

his face was wet and he looked at the ceiling, he thought it was raining and leaking through, but nothing was there. he was crying. he didn't know the last time he cried. he didn't remember ever crying. but he was crying now. salty wet tears dripping off of his chin into his lap. he couldn't even wipe them away.

he didn't fight it. he let himself cry. he let everything out, everything he'd bottled up. the hate comments, getting outed, his friends dying. he cried for it all. he cried for harry.

'please.' he sobbed out. he begged to no one, to anyone, to any of the gods he didn't believe in. 'let harry be okay.'

his crying grew painful. his throat hurt, his stomach hurt. he didn't care. he kept crying. kept praying that harry was okay. he didn't care about himself. 'kill me.' he cried to the ceiling. 'just don't hurt him.' his heart ached. he just wanted harry.