The Mimic (HE/HIM VERSION)

170

Y/n was shaking.

He had imagined killing the man in the suit so many times in his head. He knew what he had to do, he knew what he was going to say, he knew everything. Yet there he was, trembling like a child. Being called 'bubba' by him had completely caught him off guard. He was supposed to be begging for his life, but he wasn't. He was calm.

The man in the suit slowly turned around, an expectant look in his eyes. "Go ahead, do it." He hummed, sitting on top of the desk in a casual way. "Do it." He repeated. A condescending smile appeared on his face at the sight of y/n shaking, he had to tense all of the muscles in his arms to even aim it at his head. "Come on, do it. I know that I definitely didn't teach you to pause. Hell, I definitely didn't teach you to allow your victim to see your face. So what're you doing? Shoot me."

Y/n tightened his grip on the gun. His face was a picture of pure anger, but there seemed to be something in her eyes that told him a different story. "Shut up." He snapped through gritted teeth. His jaw was clenched tightly, tight enough to snap a tooth if he bit down any harder. His finger hovered over the trigger, staring his nightmare right in the eyes.

The man in the suit cleared his throat to break the thick silence in the room. He could hear y/n's shaky breathing, he could see how much he was trying to hold it together, and that just seemed to egg him on even more. "Here, do you want me to help you?" He cooed, leaning forward until the cold gun pressed into his forehead. "This is disappointing, you know. The bubba that I know just killed four people with his bare hands. He's eight. You have a gun. You're an adult. It's obvious that I successfully taught you to kill, so why aren't you?" He asked in an almost annoyed tone.

Y/n didn't say a word. He wanted to shoot him. He wanted to do it. But he couldn't. He couldn't press down on that trigger, and he didn't know why. This was his chance. He had been dreaming of this moment for so long. He was supposed to be dead by now. His brains were supposed to be spattered across the two-way mirror in front of them, but he wasn't. He was letting him talk. Letting him speak poison into his ears. Why couldn't he do it?

Frustration begun to boil inside of him, causing her throat to tighten and his chest to hurt with every shaky breath. Adrenaline spread like wildfire through his veins, just causing the shaking to get even worse.

Shoot him.

Shoot him.

Shoot him.

The man in the suit watched with a smirk as he waited for y/n to pull the trigger. It was a thick, thick silence. The only thing that he could hear was the shaky breathing of y/n. He was surprised that he couldn't hear his heart pounding. He could tell that he wasn't actually looking into his eyes, he'd spaced out. Far too deep in his inner turmoil. So, he decided to snap him back into reality. "Shoot me!" He yelled at the top of his lungs, loud enough to even make young y/n quickly hide under his covers in fear of getting caught playing with his sock puppets.

Y/n flinched at the sudden yell from the man in the suit.

He flinched.

That was all it took for him to be launched straight back into his past. He felt like a child again as the man in the suit slowly pulled the gun out of his trembling grasp. He felt weak. Defenseless. Vulnerable. All because he raised his voice.

The man in the suit let out a sigh as he set the gun down on the desk behind him. He faked a pout at the terrified, teary look in y/n's eyes, reaching out to gently cup his cheek. "God, you've grown up so handsomely." He hummed, pushing a strand of hair out of his face. "I see that everything went to plan, or otherwise you wouldn't be back here to kill me. It's sweet that you still think of me." He smiled, booping his nose as if he was still a child.

Y/n flinched again as his nose was booped. He tried his hardest to keep his composure, but the tears in his eyes were scorching hot, begging to pour. The lump in his throat continued to grow and grow, constricting his breathing with every second that passed. He swallowed hard, not removing his gaze from the man in the suit.

He couldn't believe that he let him take the gun away from him. He couldn't believe that he was still so paralysed by his presence. This wasn't how the scenario went in his dreams. He would've been dead by now, yet there y/n was, allowing him to treat him like a child again.

"Let me run you through a hypothetical, can I do that?" He asked, moving away from y/n as he turned his back to him. He faced the two-way mirror, watching the little boy cower under his covers. "Now, I'm not too clued up on time travel, so correct me if I'm wrong, but what do you think will happen if you kill me?" He questioned, turning his head to y/n for a few seconds, but of course he didn't get a response. "You'd expect your whole life to change, hm? You'd be free. But you and I both know that's not true." He shrugged, picking up a photo of y/n from the desk. "Nothing will change. Another man will come to replace me, and you'll be stuck with him for the rest of your life instead of me. And you don't want that, bubba." The man in the suit cooed, turning back toward y/n. A fond smile appeared on his face, cupping his cheek once again as he admired how vulnerable he looked. "I took care of you. I took you out of that boring old town, and I gave you a real life. I understood your potential, and you standing here right now just proves that. I taught you how to protect yourself. I-"

"You ruined my life." Y/n spat.

As soon as the man in the suit begun to talk about taking him away from his parents, the anger inside of him came back. It was a roaring bonfire in his stomach, quickly spreading throughout the rest of his body. He didn't deserve to talk about his parents, or his hometown. He didn't deserve to take credit for 'taking care of him'. He didn't deserve to be listened to.

The man in the suit's eyes widened a little at the sudden change in y/n's mood. One second he was a shaking, trembling mess, and now there was a darkness in his eyes that he couldn't even describe. He slowly moved his hand away from y/n's face, tilting his head to the side. "Oh?" He questioned, wanting him to carry on. He wanted him to keep talking. He wanted to see how long he could keep up that angry façade. But what he didn't know was that it wasn't a façade, it wasn't a façade at all.

"I was six!" Y/n yelled, ignoring the hot tears that poured down his cheeks. "Six. Years. Old." His voice trembled with pure anger, pointing toward the two-way mirror. "You killed my parents right in front of my eyes, and you blamed me for it. I was a child!" He continued to shout, stepping closer and closer to the man in the suit as he begun to back away. "You made everyone in my town believe that I was dead. You wiped my identity off the face of the earth and trapped me here. You trapped me here and let me endure years of torture and trauma. You manipulated my every thought. Every movement. Everything." Y/n hissed, beginning to back him into a corner. "And what did you do when I started to question you? When I started to realise that this wasn't right? You stuck over a thousand volts through me and wiped me of my memories. You wiped me of any autonomy-"

"Bubba-" The man in the suit begun, a look of terror in his eyes as he noticed the orbs of energy that were pulsing in y/n's palms. "Hold on-" He stammered, backing himself up against the concrete corner. He'd finally realised that he had no control over y/n. That he wasn't like the child in the room just a few feet away. He was strong, and he was out for blood. "I-"

"You turned me into a puppet. You forced me to do your dirty work. You tortured me for centuries. It's all you." Y/n snapped in a deep, dark tone. He wasn't yelling anymore. He was quiet, but that just made everything scarier. The tears were gone, replaced by a murderous glare, and the orbs in his palms just seemed to be growing stronger and stronger. "And now you get to pay."