you're mine

contradicting thoughts

The shock after the man's threat was so strong it took Sapnap a while to wrap his brain around it. It almost seemed as if the man was genuinely surprised at the insinuation that he would be offing Sapnap in the near future.

Sapnap practically crawled to the top of the bed to settle down. Based on the sunlight coming through the window, it was nearing nighttime. While he may have forgotten the constant passage of time, his stomach did not. It cramped and growled, disallowing him from slipping away into a night of rest.

He was no doubt locked in this room, and with only a bedroom and a bathroom, he was not making food himself anytime soon. He forced himself to curl up and try to wish away the hunger for a while. It was almost as if his stomach could hear his pleas and was actively trying to make it worse. It growled louder and louder, and the cramping got worse and worse until Sapnap finally stood up from the bed and decided to do something about it.

He was by no means a very prideful man, but he was not going to resort to calling his kidnapper anytime soon. Starving himself seemed a better solution than that at the moment.

With his own proclamation to keep away from the man, Sapnap instead chose to guzzle down some sink water to fill his stomach.

He very quickly learned that was an awful idea. As soon as he settled down to attempt to sleep again, his thoughts of a good home cooked meal led him to remembering his fiancé. The thoughts poured in faster than he could tell himself to stop.

His sweet fiancé in loose clothes and fuzzy socks. Who volunteered at the animal shelter and donated to charity every month. The same man who brought him soup and ginger ale if he felt even the tiniest bit ill.

Sapnap hardly made it to the bathroom before all he drank got ejected out of his mouth. Just the thought of his fiancé was enough to make him sick.

He was senseless for a while, even the feeling of the tile floor was out of his grasp as he cried out his troubles.

How long he was out of it was unknown. But the first sign that he had come back to reality was the smell of lemon cleaner. Like the lemons that floated on his sweet tea at the pool during the summer. The lemons that grew on his mother's tree in the backyard. The decorative lemons that sat in a fruit basket on his own kitchen table.  Artificial and overly strong, but something he could wrap his mind around. Lemons. Lemons. Lemons.

He hardly knew he was mumbling out the fruit over and over again until he felt his own lips moving against the tile. It was cold but oddly comforting in his time of need. It cooled his hot face and allowed him a solid touch to rely on.

He could hear his own panting breaths and whimpers fill the silent room. Random and hardly coordinated, but regardless it was something to listen to.

It quickly became his own white noise as the cold tile pulled his sick brain to sleep. The comfort of being in control took over his brain and allowed the anxiety to filter through. He closed his eyes and whispered out an ode of his pain to nobody before he allowed himself to slip away.