Chapter 9 #2
While Lionel rifled through Derek’s closets, cabinets, and bathroom for candles and a lighter, Mads poured and grabbed both of their bowls, bringing them into the pitch-black room.
“Do you need help?” Lionel asked, quickly rushing to his side as Mads walked over to sit down on the couch.
He always seemed better at finding his way than Lionel expected him to be.
“I’m fine,” Mads hummed. He sat, watching Lionel light one of the few candles he found—almost down to the dregs—holding both bowls on his lap.
The light of the candle flickered around them, bathing the space in a warm yellow glow. Lionel worried it was going to go out altogether as the flame struggled to keep hold of the wick, but eventually it settled and stayed put.
Lionel took the bowl of partially warmed-up soup with a muttered ‘thanks’ before digging in again. He couldn’t remember the last time he was so hungry—even after they first got back with bags of food to choose from, his stomach hadn’t hurt as badly as it did now.
“Do you want some of mine?” Mads asked when Lionel tipped his bowl back, shoving the last of it into his mouth. “I’m not that hungry,” he said. Lionel eyed him for a moment, but noticed his bowl had barely been touched as he scarfed his own down.
“Are you sure?” he asked.
Mads nodded and smiled, “I don’t have much of an appetite right now.”
“You should eat more,” Lionel said, pushing the bowl back to him. “You’re already so skinny; if you don’t eat while we’re trapped here, you’ll disappear entirely.”
Mads laughed at that and shook his head. “Really, I’m fine.”
Lionel frowned and shuffled over in his seat on the couch until their thighs were nearly touching.
“We can share,” he said, dunking the spoon into the bowl and bringing it to his mouth.
It had gotten a bit gross, honestly—canned soup was barely good when you made it correctly, but barely warm and not fully stirred together, it was barely palatable.
But after he swallowed, he put it back into the broth and offered it to Mads.
Mads raised an eyebrow at him, looking like he was holding back a laugh, but opened his lips and let Lionel feed the spoon in between them.
They finished the bowl off like that, alternating sips until Lionel’s stomach stopped aching and Mads had eaten enough for Lionel not to worry that he was going to starve to death.
Just as Lionel put the bowls to one side, a dull hum sounded through the room, and slowly, lights came back on.
They both raised their heads, looking around with the dull illumination.
“The generator must have come on,” Lionel whispered.
Mads looked at him curiously. “Lights will be on at about 20% strength, but things like appliances won’t work,” he explained.
“At least it means we’ll still be able to see, I guess. ”
When Lionel stood to put away the empty bowls, he frowned, a strange feeling crawling up his spine.
He ignored it as he picked up two bottles of water.
It was then that he realized what it was—the temperature had plummeted in just the half an hour since the electricity had gone off.
The water bottles he grabbed were already cold to the touch, and when he opened one to take a long sip from, the shock of cold sent a shiver down his entire body.
Lionel frowned when he looked out the window.
He listened to Mads drinking, long, slow gulps of the chilly water.
It was barely autumn outside—sure, the nights were cool and the wind could make you need a coat in the morning, but it wasn’t cold enough for the chill to set in this quickly.
Even though the building was old, one of the main renovations that had been done was to better insulate it against the winter months.
Especially with Derek’s soundproofing panels, the room shouldn’t have dropped in temperature this fast.
“What’s wrong?” Mads asked.
“It’s just… getting kinda cold,” he said slowly. “Don’t you feel it?”
“The heat must have gone off when the electricity and gas did.”
Mads didn’t sound too worried, making Lionel debate whether he was just being overly anxious about it for nothing.
He sighed and took a seat on the mattress they had placed on the floor, and pulled out his phone.
It was almost 5 a.m., and his phone was down to nearly 20%.
Lionel scowled as he held down the button to turn it entirely off, not wanting to waste it meaninglessly.
“You should try to get some more sleep,” Mads spoke up. “I can stay up on watch.”
“You already took your turn,” Lionel said, shaking his head as he ran a hand over his face.
“I’m the one who hasn’t. Here, you can have the bed.
” He stood up, letting Mads lie down with a few pillows and blankets.
He settled himself on one corner of the couch with a throw over his lap.
“Try to sleep,” he said as Mads peered up at him.
“Alright,” Mads murmured and shut his eyes.
It was too quiet as Mads’ breathing evened out, and Lionel was left alone with only the sounds of the wind and rain outside to keep him company.
He tried shutting his own eyes for a few minutes, but could feel himself dozing every time he did, so he resigned himself to sitting and watching the flame of the candle make strange shadows on the wall and ceiling.
No matter how many times he turned it over in his mind, Lionel couldn’t think of a single way to get them out of here.
He tried to think back to all the horror movies he’d seen and the video games he’d played.
There was always some way around situations like this: a magical baseball bat that could shatter the unbreakable glass, or a key hidden somewhere that unlocked the front door, or a big, bad villain they just had to defeat to break the curse.
The idea almost made him laugh, picturing how Mads would react if he suggested they search for a special item or a final boss.
Given how little Mads seemed to know about movies, he’d probably just blink at him in polite confusion.
Still, it was the best idea Lionel had come up with—trying to find some weakness, anything that might get them out of here.
He refused to believe there was truly no way out.
If he let himself accept that, he was sure he’d lose his mind right alongside Derek.
His heart hadn’t felt normal since this all started—always racing, his chest too tight, shoulders weighed down like back in college when he was drowning under late papers and final exams.
His gaze drifted over to Mads’ sleeping face.
He wondered if Mads had ever even felt anxiety.
He always seemed so calm, so unruffled by anything.
He thought about how Mads had mentioned teaching high school.
Lionel bet he’d never once raised his voice at a kid; he probably just stood there smiling, talking things out, even with hormonal teenagers throwing temper tantrums. He couldn’t imagine even the most angsty sixteen-year-old would manage to hate him.
Lionel frowned as he focused a bit more on Mads’ face.
His lips were slightly open, his eyelashes fluttering, but he looked somehow even paler than he usually did.
Lionel sat up and leaned toward him, wondering if it was just the lighting making his lips look blue.
But, when he put the back of his hand gently to the other man’s cheek, he pulled it away quickly at how cold it was.
Mads stirred slightly from the touch until his eyes squinted open and looked at Lionel questioningly.
“You’re freezing,” Lionel whispered to him, concern pinching his eyebrows together.
He didn’t wait for the other to respond before he was slipping off the couch and onto the mattress.
He rearranged the blankets into something a bit more organized, making sure they were piled strategically. “Do you feel cold?”
Mads watched him as Lionel maneuvered around him. “I didn’t notice.”
Lionel reached out to take Mads’ hand, eyes widening at how his fingers felt like ice cubes. He ran a hand over his face before pulling back and shucking off his hoodie. “Take your sweatshirt off.”
Mads blinked. “What? Won’t that make me colder?”
Lionel waved a hand at him as he lifted the corner of the blanket. “Have you never seen survival stuff? The best thing you can do to keep warm is use body heat.” Mads didn’t look entirely convinced, but obeyed Lionel’s words and pulled the sweatshirt off.
Lionel hesitated slightly, seeing Mads’ chest—his ribs were far too obvious, pressing against his thin skin. When Mads shuffled to one side, making room beside him, Lionel tucked himself beneath the covers and paused again. “Can I like… hug you?” he asked, feeling the awkward tension already.
Mads just nodded, not even seeming stiff as Lionel settled beside him and wrapped his arms around him.
He really did feel like he was made out of ice.
Lionel hissed as Mads’ fingertips pressed into his back.
He flinched when the man’s toes grazed against his calf.
“Fuck, you’re seriously freezing,” he said.
“Sorry,” Mads murmured, sighing as he relaxed. “You’re very warm.”
Lionel frowned to himself. Maybe Mads was sick, maybe there was a reason he was as thin as he was—Lionel wasn’t going to comment on it when he didn’t actually know much at all about this guy.
Eventually, Lionel also sank into the mattress.
Mads was tucked against his chest, his eyes shut and breathing slowly evening out again.
Lionel shut his eyes, realizing he probably shouldn’t let himself sleep—it was his turn to be on watch.
But, with Mads’ body pressed against him and the rhythmic puffs of his breath against his neck, Lionel was quickly lulled into sleep as well.