Warning: Effeminate Vincent, female masculine Rody, Abuse, Isolation, Emotional abuse
Rodi's grip on Vincent's wrist was firm but gentle as they wove through the bustling sidewalk, her fingers strong and calloused against his slender, porcelain-like skin. They'd only stopped by the bookstore to pick up a few of his favorites-a rare treat she allowed him-and yet somehow, Rodi still found reason to feel on edge. She always did.
"Did you see that guy at the counter?" she muttered, voice low, dripping with irritation. Her dark auburn hair was pulled back, exposing her sharp jawline and the faintest shadows under her eyes. "He couldn't stop staring at you."
Vincent blinked, his thick, soft lashes fanning as he glanced up at her. He wasn't sure if he had noticed; in fact, he rarely noticed anyone who wasn't Rodi. She made sure of that. "I... I don't think he was looking at me," he replied softly, almost apologetically.
Rodi huffed, her hand tightening slightly around his wrist, though not enough to hurt. She'd never lay a hand on him in anger-no, she'd always told herself that-but the way her fingers curled around him now, almost like she was staking a claim, sent a wave of unease through his chest.
"Of course he was," she scoffed, her gaze burning with a jealousy that Vincent had come to know intimately. "It's because you're beautiful, Vincent. Too beautiful for your own good. But that's alright, sweetheart. You don't need to worry about people like that." Her voice softened as she reached out to brush his dark locks away from his face. "I'll keep them away from you."
Vincent smiled weakly, a faint pink rising to his cheeks at the compliment. He clutched the book he'd just bought closer to his chest, his gaze dropping to the ground as they continued walking.
He tried not to dwell on the fact that it had been months-maybe years-since he'd had a real conversation with anyone else. Rodi didn't like him talking to others, and over time, he had grown to see it her way. They wouldn't understand him the way she did, she'd say. They'd try to change him or ridicule him, just like everyone had in the past. He was delicate, she insisted. Fragile. He needed her to protect him, to understand him. And though the thought was isolating, it also gave him a twisted sense of comfort. Rodi was the only person who truly understood him, after all.
They reached her car, an old, sturdy thing that Rodi had put countless hours into restoring. She opened the door for him, as she always did, guiding him into the passenger seat with a reverent, almost possessive touch before settling in beside him.
As they drove, Vincent hesitated, biting his lip. He had been meaning to ask her something, though he wasn't sure how she'd react. "Rodi... I was wondering," he began softly, glancing at her out of the corner of his eye. "Do you think maybe I could visit my family sometime? It's been so long, and they-"
Rodi's hand tightened on the steering wheel, her knuckles whitening. She didn't interrupt him, but the look on her face made his voice falter. Silence hung heavy in the air.
Finally, she spoke, her voice quiet but loaded with an unmistakable edge. "Vincent, you know how they are. Every time you go back there, they make you feel small. They judge you for being who you are, and they try to push their expectations onto you. I don't want you to go through that. I don't want you to feel like you have to change for anyone."
Her words lingered in the air, and Vincent felt his heart sink. She was right, wasn't she? His family never understood him-never accepted him the way he was, the way he dressed. They'd always wanted him to be someone he wasn't. Rodi's words wrapped around him, seeping into his bones until he felt like they were his own thoughts.
"Maybe you're right," he murmured, dropping his gaze to his lap. "I... I don't want to feel that way again."
Rodi's hand reached over, giving his knee a reassuring squeeze. "Good. You deserve better than that, Vince. You have me, don't you? You don't need anyone else."
He nodded, smiling faintly as he looked up at her. "Yeah... I have you."
They drove in silence, the city lights casting brief, flickering patterns across his face. When they arrived at her apartment, she guided him inside, her arm protectively wrapped around his shoulders. The world was so much quieter here, so much smaller. And that's how she liked it.
As they entered the familiar space, Vincent set his book on the coffee table, turning to find Rodi already watching him. Her gaze was intense, the kind that made his heart race. It wasn't the look of a lover, gentle and soft; no, it was sharper, possessive, consuming.
"Come here," she murmured, extending a hand to him. He took it without hesitation, allowing her to pull him close, her fingers running through his hair in a way that was both tender and all-consuming.
"Vincent, sweetheart, you know how much I care about you, right?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
He nodded, his gaze fixed on her, his trust unwavering. "I know. I love you, Rodi."
A flicker of satisfaction crossed her face, her grip on him tightening. "Good," she whispered, her voice almost predatory. "Because I'd do anything for you. I'd keep you safe from everyone who doesn't see how special you are. You're too precious for this world, Vincent... too fragile. I can't let anyone break you."
Vincent shivered under her touch, his heart pounding in his chest. Rodi's love was fierce, burning, almost smothering. But he craved it. He had grown to believe he needed it.
"Thank you," he murmured, his voice trembling slightly. "For... for protecting me."
She smiled, her expression softening as she leaned in to press a gentle kiss to his forehead. "You don't need to thank me, darling. Just promise me you'll stay here, with me. Don't let anyone else make you feel like you have to be someone you're not."
He nodded, his heart aching as he held her close, feeling the weight of her words settle deep within him. The world outside was harsh, unkind, and confusing. Here, with Rodi, he felt safe, even if that safety was edged with a subtle fear he couldn't quite name.
She kissed him, her lips pressing firmly against his, possessive and unyielding, claiming him in a way that made him feel like he belonged to her entirely. And he did. In this small, controlled world Rodi had crafted, Vincent was hers, bound to her by a love that was all-consuming, isolating, and suffocating. And yet, in her arms, he felt like he could finally breathe.
