Chapter Text
Two glowing green dots. Still, staring through the dark. Two turned to four. Four turned to eight. Eight turned to sixteen. Waylon couldn't move, he couldn't scream. But he could feel his heartbeat like it was desperately trying to escape his ribcage. The green eyes all came together, congealed, and grew and grew until it was a beam of light, shining down on Waylon, cutting through the black. A beacon. His chest ached. It wanted something to find him. A loud, warbled noise filled his ears, like grating steel over radio interference. Something organic tried to form through the sound. Something like words. Waylon squeezed his eyes shut. He could see the green light bleeding through his eyelids. The sound kept trying to speak to him until it quieted into white noise. And then he opened his eyes. Darkness. Chills rushed into his body and he jolted upwards. His hands reached out, feeling for his blanket. Instead, his fingertips brushed against porcelain. He laid his hand flat against it, thumb rubbing against the surface with dull squeaks.
He was... Was he in the bathtub?
Waylon sat up and slid his hand upwards to the edge of the bathtub. The still air hung heavy, outside the bathroom was quiet.
"How did I get in here...?" He whispered to himself, breath shaky. When nothing came back, he carefully raised one leg over the side and then the other until his feet touched the floor. His body trembled with cold, but his skin was hot and his warm breath stung his freezing lips.
Someone was there.
Waylon poked his head out of the door as if he could see. He strained to listen to the silence. A gust of warmth brushed against the back of his neck. Lips to his ear, that fucking word. He bolted towards his bedroom and slammed the door behind him. His body locked with tension as he breathed rapidly. Sweat gathered in his palms and his forehead.
No.
No, no, no.
He didn't want it. He didn't want it. He didn't want him, he didn't...
He did.
Fear sunk her claws deeper into Waylon's heart until his throat closed up and his eyes burned with threatening tears. He clamped his hand around his mouth and sunk to the floor. This wasn't real... It couldn't be. It couldn't. Waylon's face felt like he'd shoved it into a boiling pot of water. The cold dread fell away from him, and was replaced with heat.
A light illuminated his pillow.
Brrr... brrr...
Waylon didn't move. He stared at his cellphone until it stopped vibrating and shut his eyes once he was fully in the dark again.
Brrr... brrr... The cellphone came to life again. The vibrations seemed to get more and more violent the longer he ignored it. Teeth clenched, he scrambled forward and clasped the cellphone in his sweaty hands. When he answered, he almost choked.
"Miles... Why are you calling me?" His voice was grainy and cracked.
"Way, there you are. I know you don't like talking over the phone but I have something I need to tell you." Something shuffled from outside of Waylon's closed door.
"O-okay... What is it?" Miles took a deep breath from the other end, the sound of him cracking his knuckles barely recieving through the phone.
"I called a therapist for you, Way." It was like lightning struck him. Therapist? "Look, I know you're gonna be pissed, but I just... I just can't keep doing this. I can't sit back and watch you waste away when I know I can help." Waylon swallowed thickly.
"Do I... Do I have to- to go...?"
"No, he's coming to you." Fuck. He couldn't decided what was worse. Having an intruder, or leaving the house.
"I don't want him in here, Miles. Tell him. Tell him I don't want him here." His voice grew rougher. "Tell him."
"You know I can't do that. I'm sorry. But this is for you." Waylon's world stopped around him. The sounds outside of his door stopped. The darkness was closing in on him and he felt his mind swimming, he was getting dizzy. He pressed his face into the pillow, wiping away his panicked tears from before to make way for new ones to spring up before he lifted his head again.
"There's no way. There is no fucking way that I'm going to allow some stranger to trespass my home." Waylon seethed. "My haven. My fucking haven, Miles. I don't give a shit who he is or how much you payed him to carry his ass over here. I don't want this. I don't need help." His voice felt as if it'd give out any second. The line went silent, with the sound of Miles cracking his knuckles again coming through.
"His name is Eros Mallows. I've met him. He's a sweet guy." Miles continued. His voice softened, shook just a little. "He's coming to you today, and I'll be there with you. I think you'll really like him, Way. I really do. He reminds me of Lisa."
Waylon yanked the cellphone away from his ear and with every last bit of strength he had left, he hurled the phone across the room. It collided with the opposite wall with a definite crack and clattered to the floor. He'd always wanted to do that. The only reason why he didn't was because of Miles. But now he wouldn't be needing it anymore.
He wondered how close they were to his home. With every second that passed, his heart thumped louder. Even when he curled up in his blankets, like where he was supposed to be in the first place. His mind wandered back to him waking in the bathtub. How had he missed someone getting inside...? Someone moving him, someone touching him. He wanted his mind to end on the answer. He knew who it was. But he didn't want to admit it, he didn't want to face it. He couldn't face it.
The house turned abnormally quiet. Like it knew someone was coming. He stayed still along with it.
When they did come, Waylon sat up. Three sharp raps followed by the doorbell.
A muffled voice seeped through the walls, he could make out what it said "Waylon?" He didn't move. Like with the cellphone, maybe if he didn't respond, they'd go away. "I know you can hear me, Way." Miles said, louder. "I'm here with Dr. Mallows. He's excited to see you. You know we just wanna help you." He didn't need help. He was fine helping himself. Miles knocked again. "Way? Please. At least give it a chance. For me if not for yourself." After that shit he'd said to him, he didn't want to do it for either of them. She was still a thorn in his heart, his Lisa. When he did think her and his boys, it felt like his reality would close in on itself with him in the middle. It forced him to come back. He hated it.
After a minute or so ticked by, he slunk out of the bed and to the front door to check if they'd gone away. Through the peephole, he could see Miles still there, and the unfamiliar face.
"Go away, Miles." He perked up as he heard Waylon's voice. "And take your therapist with you."
"Don't you hate always feeling the way that you do? Doesn't it hurt? Isn't it painful?" He turned away from the peephole. "I know you're hurting, Way. You don't have to hurt alone. I want you to feel better. I want you to be happy. We're in this together. We always have been, from the very start." Waylon felt his brow knit, his lips press together. He leant against the door, his heart steady. There was hurt deep inside of him. He knew it.
"What if it doesn't work...?"
"Then we'll try something else. Me and you." Waylon thumped his head against the door. With a deep sigh, he undid every lock and latch and tentatively twisted the door knob. He shut his eyes and turned away from the light as he opened the door. Their footsteps creaked into the house and he quickly closed the door, re-locking everything.
"It's quite dark in here." A soothing voice, perfectly deep and inviting, soft and gentle, vibrating with warmth.
"I know..." He made his way into the living room and reluctantly turned on one of the lamps. The light filled half of the room, leaving dark corners and shadows, but spilled into the hallway leading to the front door. Miles appeared first, a proud smile on his face as he held Waylon's gaze. Eros followed. He was shorter than the both of them, and he smiled sweetly when he saw Waylon.
"My name is Eros Mallows, but you can just call me Eros. I'm here to help you. It's good to finally see you." Eros' voice crawled up Waylon's spine. He liked it, he didn't like it. All he managed was a nod. It was hard enough, having him in here. Now he had to talk to him. "Why don't we all have a seat, hm?" Eros made himself comfortable on the loveseat beside the lamp and Miles sat beside him. Waylon stared at them both for a moment before slowly sitting across from them on the couch. In the clear light, he could better see him. He was impossibly blonde, from his wavy hair tumbling over his shoulders, to his lashes, holding crystal blue irises. His skin was fair, peppered with freckles, his smile reaching his eyes in a way that Waylon was too familiar with. It was sort of like the way Blaire smiled at him when they first met. "Now, Waylon... Miles has already told me so much about you." He sat down a satchel at his feet and crossed one leg over the other. "But I want to hear it from you. What's happening around here?" Eros waved to the house around them and tipped his head expectantly.
"Uh..." Waylon breathed out, his gaze darting from between them and the lamp. "I-I don't know."
"No? Why do you decide to stay here?" He asked gently, wasting no time in getting to the point.
"It's... safe here."
"Safe from what?"
"Everything." Waylon said incredulously, narrowing his eyes. "Nothing's been able to hurt me since I've been here." Even to himself, he sounded uncertain.
"And what about the light?"
"It's... It's the same thing. It's safer in the dark. I can't see things in the dark." Miles looked away when he'd said that and began fumbling with his sleeves. Waylon noticed that Eros wasn't writing anything down. Did that only happen in movies?
"So you see things. Things that aren't there?" Waylon sucked in a breath. His eyes wandered around in the dark patches the light couldn't reach.
"I said, I can't see things in the dark." Eros nodded with his eyes trailing up and down Waylon. He didn't like the way he looked at him, like he was analyzing him, mentally taking him apart.
"What are the things that you see, Waylon?" He shifted in his seat, his heart beginning to pick up its pace.
"I have nightmares." He redirected. He didn't want to talk about that. He didn't want to talk about any of this. "All the time. About... people. And weird things." He attempted to answer before Eros could ask him. "I had a dream that a bright light was trying to speak to me. And then I woke up in the bathtub."
"Ah... You sleepwalk."
"No. I don't sleepwalk. I've never sleptwalked in my entire life." His defensive tone rolled right off of Eros' back despite Miles visibly going tense beside him.
"And what about the people you dream about?" One, two. Footsteps. Waylon looked over with his eyes into the other darkend hallway. The glowing green eyes. Still. Watching him. Eros and Miles followed his gaze. "What about the people, Waylon?" He could make out the face where the eyes were. The toothy smile. He tore his eyes away and directed them to the lamp.
"I have to turn it off."
"Waylon--" Eros didn't try to physically stop him when he went for the lamp, and when the room was washed in black again, the glowing eyes had vanished. A sigh whispered in the air. Miles.
"We have alot of work to do." Eros murmured.
"I just... I can't... I can't."
"Yes you can, Waylon. Maybe not right now, but eventually. We're going to get you out of here."
"I want to stay here."
"I know you do." Someone was shuffling around. For a moment, Waylon panicked. Was it the intruder...? And then, a beam of light. Eros directed the flashlight to his own face. "Let's start with this. Here," He held it out to Waylon. "I want you to use this everyday. It'll always be in your hands, you can control it, turn it on and off whenever you want. How's that sound?" He took the flashlight and pointed it to the two on the loveseat. Miles had his face in his hand and Eros still had that smile on his pink lips.
"It's... Its okay, I guess." Eros' smile somehow changed into a more pleased one. His eyes gleamed with something... different.
"Perfect. Well, Waylon. I don't want to overstay. I know that you already don't want me here. But I'll stop by tomorrow, just me and you." Eros stood and reached into his satchel to pull out a little card. "Here. In case you'd like to call me."
"Uh, about that..." Waylon thought back to him chucking his cellphone. When Eros looked curious, he only shook his head. "Nothing. I'll, uh... Yeah." He took the card, knowing that he would be doing no such thing. At least, not so easily. As Eros prepared to leave, Miles still hadn't moved from his position, his face still held behind his hand. Waylon shined the cool light on him. "Miles?" He split his fingers apart to look at him. "I'm... sorry." Miles rubbed his face with a deep sigh. Eros glanced between the two. It was an pology for everything. For how he'd been treating him. In the moment, all he wanted was for Miles to leave, to stop trying to tak away what comfort he had managed to get since he'd escaped Mount Massive.
"It's okay. It'll be okay." Waylon wanted to believe him. He really did.