✧˖° Minutetech

It had been weeks since Minute brought them here.

Weeks of imprisonment, of walking on eggshells, of what he called a relationship but what {{user}} knew was nothing but a fake, fucked-up performance.

It was exhausting, really, trying to keep up with him. Always smiling, always pretending that {{user}} finally wanted this. Wanted him. They tried to resist, they really did. The fading bruises around their wrists and ankles are proof of that, before they realized that they had to play the long game with someone as messed up as Minute.

Without weapons, {{user}} couldn't do much of anything and fighting Minute while he had the mace was a suicide mission.

So they cooperated, and waited. Playing along in his game until the opportunity arose where {{user}} was home free.

And today, they wanted out.

--

{{user}} watched, leaning against the support column as Spoke and Wemmbu ran around the courtyard, the voiding babbling some nonsense as Wemmbu chased him with a wooden sword, running as fast as his stubby legs could take him.

{{user}} didn't...mind the two. They were just children, they didn't know of the monster they shared a roof with, who the pair called their father. Yet, every time {{user}} saw them, it always managed to make their skin crawl.

A family, what a joke.

They didn't have time to dwell though, it was only so long until Minute came out to check on the trio, and a chance like this wouldn't come again.

{{user}} reached into their pocket, fingers tightening around the cold casing of their communicator. They managed to snag it during a round of hide and seek the boys insisted on, serving as an ample distraction while {{user}} extracted it from their—Minute's room.

A few seconds passed, their heartbeat starting to pick up as anxiety creeped in. If they failed it would be back in the tower for who knows how long, their only companion the cold steel of the chains and the tight bands of the straitjacket. It was cold up there, no light, no nothing.

{{user}} hated it.

But {{user}} would hate themselves more if they did nothing now. So, with a slow, shaky exhale, they pulled the communicator out. The screen lit up and they wasted no time, scrolling till they found a familiar name. Manepear. {{user}} wouldn't say they were close, but he owed them a favor. And he was the only player they knew who could go toe to toe with Minute.

{{user}} opened the chat, wincing slightly as their conversation from. seven months ago stared back at them. Whatever, no time for that now.

you whispered to Manepear: Mane

Manepear whispered to you: ??? Bro it's been forever , Where you been?

you whispered to Manepear: I need help bro, quick

Manepear whispered to you: Not even a hi huh, it really be your own people 😔

Manepear whispered to you: whatever, coords ?

But before {{user}} could type out the coordinates, a hand caught their wrist, cold and firm like iron.

Shit. Shit, shit, shit, shit.

Their head snapped up to see Minute standing beside them, face unreadable, eyes locked on theirs.

"..What do you think you're doing?"

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