( gif by hazzawckd <3 )

Bursting through the door to my hotel room, my lungs were no longer working on their own except for the small bit of the air trying to go into my system. I didn't think I could make it back in time or remember the route to get back, but the only hotel that was big enough and important enough to room us was just a few blocks away. The whole journey back felt like a distant dream, a chaotic nightmare. My chest, feet and legs were in so much, my brain was sure to lose oxygen by the second if I didn't calm down. I knew I had blisters on the soles of my feet now that the adrenaline was wearing off. I tripped into my room and towards the nightstand, crashing into it while throwing it open like a robber trying to find valuables in little time.

I gripped the edge of it while holding onto a small necklace that was wrapped in a faded t-shirt of my old school logo, the scent welcoming in a safer feeling than what I just experienced. I pulled the necklace back but the shakes remained, the awful state of panic deep in my veins and my chest. I could breathe, but I didn't feel calm; even in my own room with the door securely locked.

I got off the bed, speed walked into the bathroom in a hurry. I clicked on the light and felt myself become paralyzed at the sight of my own reflection. My hair was a mess, my skin was covered in sweat and dirt, there didn't need to be a lot of blood on his hands for an imprint to be left; but just the small droplets Rico managed to get around the room ended up on my neck.

I turned on the sink and shower, debating which one to get into first with each faucet turned all the way to hot. I debated getting into the shower, jumping in without taking my clothes off and starting to scrub away the blood of an unknown. The blood of a stranger, a stranger who is probably dead or badly beaten to the point of being unrecognizable. I felt bad for Brix, just the mere thought of trying to find your twin in a world like this was more disgusting than I could think of.

I grabbed the complimentary soap they provided for us and started to scrub my skin raw, trying to get even the smallest particle off so there was nothing but a thought left behind. My heart thrashed against my chest, stomach nauseous.

"Come on." I said to myself while now scrubbing, praying it would get off my skin without realizing how red my neck was turning/

After a few moments of just sitting there after getting the blood off, I stood under the water letting it drip down my face with a numb expression on my face. None of this was worth it at all. The threats, the insults, the looking over my shoulder act was enough to drive anyone mad. Like right now, I was going mad. My mind was battling what to do next, because I knew I needed to flee as quickly as possible. I couldn't trust anyone, not Ares nor Ciera. Ciera was in her own world and traveled completely separately than all of us, and Ares was far too busy to even sit and hear about any problems that are going on within the band. If it didn't jeopardize the band in public, it didn't need her attention for that day.

I can't risk Hobie finding out I went and got help until I'm long gone and he can't get me.

I had to pick, I had to leave. There is no way I'm staying here, staying with a band who thinks doing what they are doing is right. I don't know what the hell is even going on, but I have to leave if I wanna be safe. It is not safe nor good being here with these people, not after what I just saw. Does Ares and Ciera know they do this? Do they just turn a blind eye to all of this with little to no empathy for them?

I quickly shut off the bathroom light and walked backwards into the room so my front was facing the door, not trying to have a surprise attack come through the front door with my back turned. I back peddled just slightly to my suitcase that was at the edge of my end. I kneeled down once the back of my heel touched the zipper, grabbing clothes that were scattered around the floor.

"Page 5, Section 23, Line 9–"

I let out the loudest scream I could ever spew as another voice echoed in my room, my head snapping up to look at the open window let in a breeze and a singular table opposite of where I kneeled in the room.

There he sat; black combat boots kicked up on the small table, chair tilted back towards the wall to be propped against it, a mass of papers in his hands with a blunt resting in between his lips. He didn't react to my scream, he just kept his eyes on the paper.

How did he even get in here?

I jumped to my feet, my blood running ice cold as danger spraked through my veins and alerted my brain.

I blinked a few times because I thought I was dreaming and fell asleep somewhere. He doesn't have a key card to my room, there was no way he was behind me the entire time when I was running back; I would've seen or heard him. Why was he here after letting me go? I felt that same feeling of panic start up again.

"Why are you h–"

"If the applicant wishes to quit or abandon their tasks/duties in the first month, he/she will need to pay an upfront penalty price of twenty five thousand dollars, in addition to the cost she will also need to pay five thousand dollars to the legal team, or serve them in court." He reads from the papers in his hands, the blunt resting in between his index and pointer fingers on the opposite hand.

My eyes jumped around the room, looking to find my phone or the hotel phone; but neither one was in sight. In fact, I can't remember the last time I held my phone in my hands.

Where was my fucking phone.

My heart was racing so hard, breathing coming to a halt. I looked over at the closed front door, still wondering how he got in without making a noise. He wasn't closer to the door than I was and there was no way he got in through the window. I was almost at the highest point of the hotel.

He pulled his eyes from the paper and looked up at me from his relaxed, condescending state.

"Signed (Y/N) (L/N)." He states.

That was my contract in his hands–the ones I signed without reading them over fully.

He kept his eyes on mine, waiting for me to respond.

I glanced at the door again before suddenly booking towards it, but I couldn't move another step. My feet were somehow planted to the ground like they were glued or stuck together.

"Do not!" He shouts as I let out a gasp with my hands outstretched to catch myself from falling, I squinted my eyes in the direction of the door and realized he would've caught me before I could get out, the door had two locks.
"--do that." he finishes calmly.

I was going insane.

"You should know by now that it won't take me long to get to you before you can even make it out the door." I heard him say in that intimidating mutter from his seat, the smell of weed becoming stronger and stronger, like it was tormenting me.

"I don't know what you want from me, I already told you I wouldn't tell." I shake my head while staring at the opposite side of the wall.

"I want you to turn your pretty little head back to me and listen while I'm speaking to you." He demanded, not asking, demanding.

I was in a sticky situation with his orders, did I really deserve to be treated like this without a second thought that I am human? But then again, I was stuck in quicksand and the only person who could potentially save me was the same one who put me there. So, in dread, I turned to face him while repositioning myself to be in the same place I was with my head in the direction of him. I watched as he held the papers back up to his face while 'coughing' as he moved on.

"Good girl." He rasps, snapping the papers so they are straight. "Now where did I leave off?"

I swallowed the dry lump that formed in my throat, stomach clenching so hard in anticipation for what he had next in store for me; with the way he was deranged, anything could happen. He placed the papers on the table to lick the pad of index finger, tossing the finished blunt out the window before blowing the last bit of smoke down his nose.

With everything going on, I hadn't realized that sitting next to his arm farther from me was the gun.

I was in shock, heart dropping as I could feel all the blood rush to my head making me woozy. I didn't see that there before, why did he need one if he was just sitting here at the table?

Was he going to kill me?

"On page 5, section 9, line 23. It says you must be willing to fulfill your job description; offering skills to whomever of the member of talent or managers request. If not, you have yet another fee you are forced to pay. Something tells me you didn't read this fully, right? Your pretty little signature is right here. Signed, (Y/N) (L/N)." He turned his head in my direction, a blank look on his face.

I didn't realize I signed my whole life away.

"You can't keep me trapped in this job."

He stared at me for what seemed like a few seconds before he started laughing. Placing the papers on the table, he rose to his feet as my body clenched everytime he moved.

He stood tall, maybe taller than he originally was everytime I ran into him before. He ignored my statement after he finished his little giggle fit. I looked between him and the gun sitting on the table, my anxiety through the roof.

"You trapped yourself, baby." He says to me finally, turning back around as shook out his wrists with a decorative watch now on his wrist. "I didn't even want you here, why would I trap you? Does that sound like something I would do?"

He was right.

"What are you going to do to me?" I asked even though I didn't want to hear the answer.

He exhaled a dry chuckle, walking around my room like he was studying it in case he needed to come back in here another day. Which made me feel even more gross. "You just love questions, don't you?" He murmurs.

I shut my eyes and exhaled, I didn't feel like crying this. Was too tired to even do so. I just wish I could somehow get out of this room, away from him, away from this job. Everytime he didn't answer my question, the more helpless I felt.

"Look–I don't know what you want from me, but I need to quit. I don't want to know what this band is all about or be affiliated with it. I just wanted to make clothes and work in this industry to fulfill my friend's dream. I won't say anything, just like I didn't tell anyone about visiting your mother." I pile up every last bit of courage to speak strongly to him, trying to make my voice not sound weak.

He rolled his eyes while taking a step to his left back to the table, pushing the gun to the side just a bit more so he could fold the papers of the contract behind the others to read. "Says here if you wish to be terminated from the position by the talent or management; you will not have to pay anything but you must surrender all designs you have worked on as well as the clothes you made for us all. That little book of yours you carry around along with your portfolio? That would go straight to Ares or Karl and be used in any way they see fit."

It didn't sound like a bad idea, giving up four pages of designs I came up with them wasn't at all bad. My mind was filled with wonders and ideas, I was a designer, a fashion killa, I could make up ten designs for the four pages I would lose.

"But.. you see, before today I would've been completely fine with firing you. You would've got a free walk and I would never have to see you again." He puts the papers back down on the table. "But now, I can't let you run to the police and try to make my life harder."

"I said I wouldn't say anything." I pleaded again.

"I don't know why you think I would trust your promise, it's very childish of you." He mumbles with little persuasion.

"I'm not continuing this tour," I shake my head. "Not with you, I can't."

"Ouch," he places his hands on his chest. "Do you have 25 grand?"

"I'll take you to court." I fire back.

"On what grounds?"

"Kidnapping.." I couldn't even come up with a real reason as to what I could try to get him charged with, I had no evidence.

"Really, Snips. Kidnapping?" His voice tunes down to a whisper in the end. "That the best you can think of?"

I stayed quiet, looking away from him.

"You know what is so funny about this?" He continues in a quieter tone. "I thought my mind was playing tricks on me because how stupid would you need to be to leave something with your DNA all over it." He turned back around to pick up the gun before moving over to me before gripping my hand, placing the gun in my hand. "Who leaves their fingerprints all over a murder weapon."

My heart once again fell into my stomach, my eyes widening.

"Your prints are all over that." I whispered.

"I can assure you that doesn't matter. Your prints now cover the whole gun and since your pretty little lips were wrapped around the barrel of it, it wouldn't need to take a whole unit to figure that out. All I would need to do is keep this gun, find someone else, do things that would end me up in jail, place the gun at the scene, threaten them and the cops would be all at your door."

I shook my head, pushing the gun into his chest with the barrel facing the door so neither one of us got hurt. It was a horrible nightmare. He really just threatened me.

"You wouldn't dare."

He exhales and grabs my cheeks with his free hand, smiling through his perfect teeth and beautiful lips. "I would. Just.. don't be sad, you'll be okay." He speaks in an untrustworthy tone that just made me sick to my stomach. "I have people to take care of, good friends of mine and I can't have you running to the police. You'll make everyone around you miserable." He spoke very clearly. "Make your life harder."

I tried to pull my face away from his hold while keeping my eyes shut, whining when he wouldn't release me.

"Listen," He whispers an inch from my face. "I wish it didn't have to be this way, but you are stuck with us now. We could've avoided this if you would've just minded your business. Told Karl no. Now? I can't let you go and have that pretty little mouth of yours running. So if you listen to me for the rest of this tour, follow whatever orders I give you, I'll forget about the gun and the warnings."

"Hobie..just fire me."

He shakes his head.

"I'm afraid I can't. I just told you, I got people that depend on me, yeah? I'm not finna fuck up feeding their mouths and keeping them safe because of a rat." He talks to me like I was a child getting punished.

He stared down into my eyes, still engulfing my cheeks with his large hands. I was gripping his wrist but couldn't find the fight in me to push them away anymore. His eyes were dark, disturbed. Not the Hobie I knew anymore. When he shifted a bit, the window light started to peek into the room from the side of his shined right on his iris.

When it shined on his one eye, the dark forest color turned to a beautiful golden hour glistening emerald, exposing that he had a softer side to him when he didn't intend for it to be there. The simple crack of sunlight was vertically down his face–but only one on his eye, notched eyebrow, and a small portion of his lip. The rest of him was hooded from the curtain blocking the light. It felt like something was telling me that there was a good side to him during this torture.

My mouth was bone dry.

"I'm no use to you."

He grins, sliding his hand from my cheek to the back of my neck. His long fingers carded through my hair before stopping at the smallest hairs on the back of my neck, tugging at them just a bit as it shot tingles down my neck. It would've been a pleasant feeling if not from a man like this. "That's the thing, you are of use to me. But now you are utterly useless to me."

He let go of the side of my neck, putting his arms down to his side and took a step backwards. A cold draft crawled up me as I kept my eyes on him.

"Enjoy your day off," He grabbed everything he brought in and headed towards the door, the gun shoved in the back of his pants with his vest covering it after he adjusted it. "We are leaving early tomorrow for a new city."

As his hand pulled down the door handle to leave, he paused and snapped his fingers befores digging through his front pocket, pulling out my cell phone. "Be Careful losing this, who knows what someone might do if it ends up in the wrong hands."

The door was slammed shut after he put the phone down on the ground near the door. The minute he was gone, I was finally alone with my back against the wall.

•••
authors notes !!

if you are hating hobie, that means im doing my job well. you are meant to hate hobie in the beginning because he is acting like a crazy man, but theres a perfectly good reason as to why he would be acting like this. this is also an enemies to lovers book, so of course it isnt going to be the "🥺 i hate you!" nah, this will be a real enemies to lovers.

pay attention to the small details i add in, why would someone mention a sister? who is the sister? the watch? miguel? everything connects together. but you are meant to hate hobie heavily, if you dont hate him im not doing a good job. but down the line he will become better, just trust me