two.

IF NATHAN HAD to shallowly comprehend the captor's declaration—I wouldn't hurt my heroine—as it was, without context and relative to his warped mindset, it meant that he wouldn't hurt Adelaide. It also meant that he was ready to hurt him.

He tried to act like the thought didn't scare the shit out of him. Beside him, Adelaide was frowning, dried tears trails along her freckled cheeks. She glared at the door like it was the captor and helplessly shouted, "Sale psychopathe! If- If the police come, they're gonna throw you—"

Nathan cursed under his breath as she continued hollering. Her voice by definition was a sound wave (Nathan's physics teacher would be either proud or surprised), dimensionless, massless—so why did it feel like it was stealing space, filling his chest? Shouldn't that have been physically impossible?

Nathan looked at Adelaide, his cheeks splattered a blossoming crimson. Maybe it was just the force of the blood-rush but he felt like his insides bursted aflame. The familiarity of the symptoms brought back horrid memories.

He inhaled through his mouth, desperate to calm himself (or try to), then gripped Adelaide's arm and spun her around until their sights collided.

"For God's sake," Nathan said, almost breathlessly, "stop yelling like that. You're making the room feel smaller than it actually is and that's gonna make me panic more than the fact that we're kidnapped, okay?"

She froze and stared at him, eyes subconsciously inching a bit lower. Nathan understood. Like everyone else he'd met, the deep dimple in his left cheek probably distracted her.

Adelaide forcefully stopped looking at it. "Oh, I'm sorry." Lashes downcast, she tucked her unruly hair behind her ear. "I just have intense . . . reflexes."

"It's fine." Nathan's dimple curved like a crescent. "I swear I'm not an asshole but all of this got to me."

Adelaide just nodded awkwardly. Nathan walked back and slumped against the wall, keeping his spine straight. He let out a shaky breath. Pressure point. He pressed his finger into the base point of his thumb. The slight fuzz in his head melted. Everything slowly felt spacious again.

When he glanced up, Adelaide was gawking at him. He frowned. "Don't look at me like that." Not quite an adequate statement but he didn't like explaining his anxiety to anyone. Patting the space beside him, he urged her closer. "Sit. We need to talk."

So she did. To his left, she silently tucked her legs beneath her as if waiting for him to initiate.

Nathan looked at her neck whilst pointing at his own, brows furrowed apprehensively. "Show me your transmitter."

Adelaide's eyes narrowed. "My what?"

"Transmitter." Nathan unbuttoned his top button and showed her the black loop around his neck. "It's for the earpiece to work." As he arched his torso towards her, he glimpsed at the door like a thief fearing exposure. "I need to see if it has a microphone embedded on it. Mine doesn't have one."

Adelaide's wary expression told Nathan that she didn't fully understand, but she patted around her neck nonetheless, and her eyes widened with realization as soon as her fingertip brushed over the transmitter.

Peeking down, her chin just about touching her throat, the flabby fats in between sagged. She pulled the wire from beneath her clothes and looked at Nathan, wordlessly allowing him to check.

Nathan inspected her transmitter, briefly felt it around, then let it fall against her neck again. "No microphone, thank God," he said. "Do you know what it could've meant if they had microphones on them?"

"Uh . . . That he can hear us?"

"Every whisper." Nathan's shoulders tilted forward with the urgency. Then he relaxed slightly, a hint of accusation in the subtle curve of his brow. "But I doubt you care, considering you just yelled at him."

Adelaide almost chuckled, either at herself or his expression. "I told you I'm sorry—"

"Don't apologize. I get it. I was just messing with you." The sliver of mischief faded. Nathan frowned again. "We're not completely safe yet." His eyes scoured the floor beneath the door, as if anticipating a shadow. A hint of someone standing behind. "He can still eavesdrop. That's probably what he did."

"Yeah, true. Good thing you thought of that." Adelaide's impressed countenance almost made Nathan smile again. "I sorta didn't even know earpieces needed transmitters."

"I didn't know either until my dad told me." Silence. Nathan clarified, "He wears earpieces for conferences."

Nathan's shoulders slouched at the remembrance. He'd traveled to France just to see his dad, stepped on his anxiety and rode an airplane again just so he'd relieve his heart from yearning.

That turned out a waste. No relief and no joy. Heart still yearning, now even twice as much.

Adelaide opened her mouth then closed it again, as if she'd decided against voicing her thoughts. Nathan would ask, but he heard low rustling in his ear. Slow breathing? Like preparation for speech. He froze, goosebumps trailing the back of his neck.

"Give me two minutes and I'll open the door. We'll start the meeting on stage. Understand?"

Adelaide and Nathan looked at each other. Stage. Nathan would question it, but at this point nothing surprised him. That same psycho had shoved an earpiece in his ear and called him a villain. Creative insanity at best.

They both stood and inched closer to the door. Behind it, they'd step into a sensitive zone. No room for messing up. Adelaide's rash behavior flashed in Nathan's head. Before the door could open, he tuned to face her, clutching her arms lightly. "Look—"

For a split-second, Adelaide seemed dazed. Maybe because of the contact? Nathan let go of her arms just in case, then continued, "When we go out there, we have no idea what to expect. Let's not do anything stupid. Don't make a run for it if you find a window or anything. We both know that won't work. Let's wait and figure things out first."

Adelaide nodded hesitantly. Nathan sighed and said, "I know I seem calm but I'm literally shitting my pants at the idea. If we just go along with him right now, we might survive this."

"Y-Yeah, alright."

Nathan turned away again, fiddling with his fingers as he anticipated the door's opening, or the man's words creeping down his ear-canals. He suddenly wondered what he'd look like: if he had a wicked face to match his wicked voice, a psychotic smile to match psychotic threats.

Chains rattled, then the door swung in. Normally, Nathan's chivalry would let the girls pass first but this time, glancing at Adelaide, watching the terror in the slant of her brows, he knew she wouldn't appreciate it.

With his heart in his throat, Nathan crossed the threshold first and stepped right into a small corridor, a space of transition. Soft pockets of light dappled in from the opening opposite him. He hesitantly bounded up the wooden stair-steps in front of him that he assumed led to the stage.

On the last rung, a blinding swathe of light burnt his eyes and he struggled to adjust. When he did, he noticed that this place was vast compared to the chicken-coop he'd been stuck in. A relieved sigh slipped through his lips.

"God, finally more space," he absently mumbled. Adelaide had caught up, now standing beside him, and she gave him a weird look. The kind that said: what the hell? Nathan shrugged nervously. "I . . . um, nevermind. It's just that the room is kinda small and all this space is kinda refreshing."

Two more steps in and the outline cleared. To his left, a large wall. To his right, red curtains coated with dirt and dust like they'd been stolen from ancient British theaters and hung here. This would've been fascinating in another case.

Nathan turned until he was facing the curtains square, but in the process his peripheral caught movement going on somewhere by the door they'd just stepped out from.

He squinted in that direction, straining his eyes until he realized a man stood there. Nathan flinched like someone punched him in the stomach. Where had he been as they'd passed? Squeezed in the shadow of the tiny corridor, or behind the door?

"Welcome to the stage, my actors," the man said. "Stand in your places."

Nathan looked around him for a moment, searching for a mark. Surely, two faded X's blemished the wooden planks a little to the front. Knees threatening to buckle, he walked over and aligned his feet precisely above the mark like a punished child. Adelaide passed by him and stood on hers.

"Let me start by introducing myself." The man's calm voice led a slow chill down Nathan's spine. "I'm your Director, and I chose you to act out my play. That's why you're here. We need to talk about your roles."

Play. Director. Actors. Nathan frowned to himself but nodded nonetheless. For a second, he almost felt particularly attacked—did that creep know he'd always liked theatre and acting?

The sound of footsteps thudding across the floor, loudening progressively, broke Nathan's trance. The blood rushed in his veins. He breathed in, eyes downcast. Don't panic, he reminded himself.

The Director stood right in front of him. Close. Too uncomfortably close. "You," he announced, "are the villain." Nathan glanced at his face for a millisecond and it made his bones shake. Maybe it was just the awkward lighting, but his eyes defined a new shade of black: darker than a blackhole. "You know what that means?"

When Nathan didn't answer, two callous fingers curled around his chin and forced his face up.

"Answer me. You know what that means?"

Nathan swallowed past the lump in his throat. "I won't know better than my Director," he quickly coaxed, voice quivering. "But I think you mean I'm the bad person in . . ." your insanity? Your deranged head? ". . . your play."

The Director nodded slowly. "More than that." He narrowed his eyes, almost spitefully. Maybe maliciously. There was something unfathomable about his expression. "You're the liar. The deceiver. The traitor. The sinner. The one everyone wants to die."

Nathan could do little but nod again, wallowing in the terribly tense silence and the unnerving glare boring into his eyes, until the Director continued:

"Dolion. That's the villain's name. We hate Dolion." The Director craned his neck, slowly, and glanced at Adelaide. Nathan couldn't have mistaken the glossy gloom in his eyes. "We hate him so, so much, don't we, my heroine?"

The Director suddenly looked at Nathan again, and his expression twisted. Like a cat preparing to pounce, his hands tensed first then finally flung forwards, gripping Nathan's shoulders.

Nathan's heart jumped at the contact. He made a small startled noise but quickly shut himself up.

"You know what you're gonna do with that character?"

Nathan shook his head, choosing to stick to the obedient pretense, which he (thankfully) was too familiar with. If he plucked out the deranged context of the current situation and focused on the mechanics, this could be just another instance where he had to play innocent and ashamed to avoid trouble.

"You wanna live that character. Be that character. I want you to convey his deceit in the best way. I know you can do it. I know you can. I know I picked a talented one. I'm sure I did."

A torrid of spit rammed into Nathan's face with each word the Director spoke. Eyes subconsciously screwed shut, Nathan curled his toes then relaxed again, trying to release the tension.

The Director snorted. "What? Now you have a problem with me spitting in your face?"

Of course Nathan had a fucking problem with that. He clasped his clammy hands behind his back, squeezing them, hoping they'd stop shaking.

Nathan forced himself to speak, "No. It's fine, because you're my Director."

The Director glared at him, long and scrutinizing and . . . disgusted like Nathan was the real shit out there. He let go of Nathan's shoulders with a rough thrust, almost making him stumble back, then finally moved away.

Nathan let out the longest sigh, painfully similar to the one he used to blow out back when he'd dip in the hot tub after a long day. Same action but the incentives stood at opposite sides of the spectrum. He'd never been ungrateful, but right now he wanted all the luxury back more than ever.

When Nathan's thoughts cleared again, the Director was standing in front of Adelaide, a few inches back (certainly further than he'd been with Nathan), saying, "—re the heroine. She's called Luna. We love Luna. We love her so much."

Adelaide's expression reminded Nathan of a constipated dog. He detected the tension in her, the inability to utter or nod or move altogether. She'd make a good candidate for messing this up.

The Director didn't even touch her. Nathan didn't want that, but he found it odd. In front of Adelaide, the Director's physique demanded notice: tall and broad-shouldered. He'd make two of Nathan and Adelaide together.

"It's going to be easy to play Luna, right, my heroine? Because she's sweet like you," the Director continued, voice almost dreamy, fingertip barely caressing her cheek like her skin was sacred. "Just like it won't be hard for this dumbass"—he nonchalantly thumbed at Nathan—"to act like Dolion."

Nathan frowned to himself, squinting; Adelaide's side-profile fashioned a wet cheek, a blurry and glossy layer from afar. Crying. His heart tore. Her mind was most likely going places and this time he couldn't blame her.

The Director stepped back and clapped once, as if regathering the attention. "Now, let's talk about my play. It has six acts." His thin lips curved at one end as he stared at Nathan, almost purposefully. "Only six, right, my villain?"

The vague malevolence in the question bore into Nathan's chest like a drill. Every rib in him convulsed. He trapped the breath in his lungs.

"There are a lot of rules you need to follow." The Director waved his hand exasperatedly whilst slowly pacing the space between Adelaide and Nathan. "You'll discover them along the way. But there's one"—he froze. Turned. Stared at Adelaide then at Nathan. His bushy brows gradually fell into a frown—"one you have to know. The most important one."

The same dreary silence persisted, and so did the Director's glare on Nathan. "When it's time for you to perform on stage, you can't mess up. Not at all. And in case you do, just know that I have a shotgun with me and I'm not afraid of using it."

Shotgun. The only thing that had been missing from the equation. Adelaide's muffled gasp was a valid reaction but Nathan didn't find it in him to utter a word. A part of him expected the weapon to be revealed now, but the Director only strode closer, invading Nathan's personal space again at the worst time.

"What's with that face, my villain?" Fingers rough like asphalt played along Nathan's jaw then gripped it hard enough to break the bone. "You don't believe that I have a shotgun? You think I'm lying?"

"No," Nathan hastily said, feeling like someone was throwing bricks in his lungs. Space. He wished the Director would step back. Just an inch. "I don't think you're lying. I believe you."

"You better." A surly snarl scrawled ugly lines into the Director's face. "You're gonna see it soon. And maybe even feel it, because guess what?"

When Nathan didn't answer, the Director continued, "I'll be watching you two perform. If you mess up"—he jabbed a finger in Nathan's chest—"I'll shoot you."

The Director's hand slid off Nathan's chest as he strode over to Adelaide. "And if you mess up," he told her, eyes wide, "don't worry. I'll also shoot him."

Nathan could say he'd seen that coming at this point. Still, every nerve in him tensed. Watchful eyes. He felt them on him without the need to look.

"Is that too much to handle, my villain?"

Nathan stared at his feet, blinking far too fast, mouth curving into an anxious smile. He couldn't explain this instinct in him if he tried. "Not at all."

"Good." The Director this time bothered sweeping his eyes across Adelaide, as if finally addressing her as well. "That's enough for one meeting. Go back to your room, my actors. Have some rest until I give you the script for Act One."

Nathan remained still for a moment. When he finally turned, just about heading back to the room as ordered, the Director's hand gripped his arm and forced him back.

"You're going to love Act One," the Director said, fingers tightening momentarily around Nathan's flesh. Nathan couldn't decipher the implication in his words. "You'll get to show off your talent."

__________

a/n: hello! hope you enjoyed this chapter. Feedback/your thoughts (whether positive or negative) are always appreciated !!

Thank you for reading/commenting/voting, it means the world to me <3