H2OVanoss & Bitches

Careful What You Wish For (Minicat)

Hello again! I will check over this and edit it by tomorrow but I don't have much time and I'm excited to post this so, here it is!  

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It was after the Dolch heist, everyone was mourning over the loss of their leader and comrade, and while Craig missed Evan dearly, the possibility that Tyler might have actually been dead crushed him. At least it did. He remembers the salty taste of tears on his tongue when the two came limping into the camp, the pain of his lips crashing onto Tyler's, the excitement, anger, and love he felt all at the same time.

He remembers Tyler pulling him aside and telling him how he felt. That "it was a spur of the moment thing" that it wasn't "Smart in their line of work". He remembers bitting his lip so hard that he could taste blood as he held back his tears and nodded before Tyler simply just, patted his shoulder, before walking away. Like he thought the gesture alone was enough to mend a broken heart.

So there he was, wishing that in that moment he could just be whisked away, taken somewhere far away from him. If only to just not get that feeling of heartbreak everytime their eyes met from across the room. He was walking out around the camp, trying to find something other than a sense of pity. It was no secret that the other's knew by now, and he hated it. The looks they gave him, the sorry eyes like it would have been any different if things weren't the way they are.

It was quick and painless, he had heard a few footsteps. Not even trying to be stealthy, they simply walked up behind him and stabbed him in the back. Held a rag to his mouth to keep his cries of pain muffled as they each grabbed a limb and dragged him off to where ever it is they operate.

The cloth gag held his tongue down, forcing his jaw open wide enough to be almost painful, and the blindfold was tightly wrapped around his eyes, the only perks being the enhanced hearing that came with being blind and held captive in a dark room for, days? No, it had been a few weeks. 

Craig jumped at the sound of the wooden door slowly creaking open, the light pattern of quiet footsteps and calm breathing told him that something was different. These men, they were always loud and rambunctious, their footsteps thundered and their breathing could be heard from the other side of the door if they decided that they wanted to get drunk enough.

"Don't move," a low voice whispered in his ear. Craig simply whimpered pathetically, shuddering as he heard a knife being taken out of its sheath. He felt as the blade began to cut the binds holding him down, digging into his raw wrists in the process and he whimpered again.

The smell of cologne and raid equipment was almost forgotten. The smell of home, of his family. Jonathan's bloodstained blue hoodie that had been washed so many times it had faded but the smell of copper never really came out, the lemon scented sleeping gas that Brock always used for when he had to go under, the smell of Lui's cooking, the laughter of his friends after a successful heist. The lingering smell of cologne, gunpowder, and sweat that hung in the air of Tyler's quarters.

He remembers sleeping on the stiff bed for weeks after the news that Tyler and Evan had gone missing just after the Dolch raid. He had refused to come out, pushing away any comfort that tried to coax him away from what he thought was left of the one person he cared for the most. 

It's ridiculous how a similar smell can trigger so many distant memories. 

"I've got you mini," the voice whispered again, carefully lifting him out of his seat and carrying him away. He tried to speak, but he was too weak; that, and the gag made it nearly impossible. But he was grateful when it was removed. He smacked his lips together, wincing when the chapped skin started to crack and bleed. He raised a shaky, malnourished hand to his face and pulled at the cloth covering his eyes.