Tidbits

28 of December, 2017-pop

Warnings: a dystopian future, some humans are now kept as slaves, boyxboy. Love? Angst? Not sure. Enjoy <3

Not edited.

He hummed to himself as he ironed his Masters shirt. It reverberated through his chest and throat. It wasn't a happy hum. It was simply a sound, a sound meant to distract.

Just another sound designed for nothing other than to fill the silence.

He always did this, the humming, as if he could change the reason behind his actions by reminding himself of what used to be his reason, his drive, his want.

'Careful, lovely,' Tony would say, 'remember where you are, remember that there are eyes everywhere. Stay strong until I can come get you.'

The last of that was nothing but wishful thinking, and he knew that, but that didn't stop him from from wishing it.

Tony.

He used to be his reason for most things: why he woke up at 5:00 am to make breakfast, why he cleaned up after himself, why he swayed his hips whenever someone interested walked by, because Tony thought it was amusing when people assumed they could get in his pants, because he was so obviously Tonys and so obviously in love.

The way he glanced at Tony, even from the beginning, had been obvious, painfully so, so bad that even his mum knew, and she was the worst when it came to noticing things, even the obvious ones.

But even then, when Tony was there and their love had bubbled, and would stay bubbled, even then, he could chose, and Tony'd listen.

He used to do things because he wanted to.

Now he has to, the same way he has to keep down on the low, has to keep quiet because otherwise he will die.

Not might, or maybe, or possibly. He will die, but only if he shows his Master feeling. Only if he shows Him that he still thinks, still knows what and who he is outside of slave. Outside of mindless, brainless, slave.

And even now, he sometimes can't tell himself. Has he finally done it? Has he finally lost himself amidst this insane world he lives him? Has this become his normal? Has he become the mindless, brainless drone they are all expecting him to already be?

Has he lost his past, what he wishes on the future? (Anything but this, please, nothing like this)

Has he lost him?

Tony?

Eventually he must come to the conclusion that no.

He hasn't.

It comes back to him when he feels the throbbing pain that has been part of his very existence ever since the day hell came riding headfirst into their happy bubble of love and warmth, shaking it to depths of its core in such a way that it did the unspeakable, did the one thing they always promised it wouldn't; pop.