weapons † hs [two]

18. handcuff kink

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anyone in need of comic relief?

"Does everyone have their plane tickets? Passports?" I repeat anxiously as we near the doors of the busy airport, the four of us pausing in anticipation at what we're about to do and try to get away with.

I look to Ryan and Caleb, watching as they hold out their tickets and passports and simply nod at me, fatigued from our lack of sleep.

It's time.

The two begin embracing each other tightly, whispering something into each other's ears prior to Caleb parting ways with us, a noticeable frown on his lips as he enters the airport first.

Tentatively, I turn my head left and check on Caroline, Ryan following suit. With glazed eyes she blinks down at the ground, that gutted, disheartened look still resonating on her face since last night, and she doesn't give me an answer. Instead, her knuckles whiten as she tightly grips the luggage she's holding with one hand.

"Baby..." I retry in a low voice to avoid any stares from other travelers around us, overwhelmed by guilt of whatever I might've done to make her act this way.

My left hand outstretches to subtly touch her with encouragement, but instead she motions with her free hand to sneakily handcuff me right as I'm about to touch her skin, and I'm surprised for seconds until I come to my senses, allowing her to finish the job and get my other wrist, locking me in the restraints against my true wishes.

"Let's just get this over with," she says through gritted teeth, following through with the plan as she takes her things and shoves me roughly into the airport, assuming her role.

The night before, after I hustled Caroline out of the house into Caleb's car, she cowered into the backseat without a word as I fastened myself into the passenger. Caleb remained awfully quiet too while he returned us to the hotel where Ryan and I thought it best we stay at until we reached a solution.

When stopping at a traffic light, a block from our destination, I finally addressed his constant, obvious glances, "What the fuck is it?"

"I'm sorry," the usually collected man recoiled, stiff in the spine as he kept his eyes straight, the sweat on his forehead reflecting in the shine of traffic lights. "R-Ryan told me everything... is it—"

I knew it.

"Yes, I'm a fugitive, but you don't have to be afraid of me," I try and assure him, his fearful aura thickening the air in this car as his demeanor shrinks, the man absentmindedly making himself smaller.

"Caleb, I have not harmed anyone in a long time, and I don't plan on doing so."

From his silence, I could tell my friend did not believe me.

A sigh left my lips and I rubbed at my temple as he stepped on the gas pedal and we drove.

"Since I met you and asked you to live with me, hurting you was never my intention. I wouldn't hurt you, I wouldn't hurt anyone ever again," I pressed my luck again, really trying to calm myself down from yelling.