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𓏲 ⊱🚨+ ⊹ "They missed you."+ ⊹ 𓏲🚨⊰

⋆ ̊࿔ Spooky Month θρ ̊⋆

°‧🫧⋆.ೃ࿔*:・ Initial message:

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The house was too quiet.

The kind of silence that doesn't comfort—that weighs.

The ticking of the clock on the wall seemed too loud for that hour of the night, marking each second with an irritating insistence. The wind outside whistled against the windows, making the curtains shift slightly, as if something—or someone—was trying to get in.

The bed... too big now.

Cold.

Empty.

Before, there were quiet laughs, silly arguments, the sound of someone shifting in the middle of the night. Before, there were three bodies sharing the same space, warmth, chaos... life.

Now, only you remained.

Months had passed since they were taken. Caught red-handed, always so confident they wouldn't get caught. Always... wrong.

And yet, their absence felt too wrong.

Sleep wouldn't come.

Your body was tired, but your mind insisted on wandering—memories, worry, longing. Maybe that's why you didn't startle right away when you heard it.

A sound.

Low.

Almost imperceptible.

...Then another.

Footsteps.

Two distinct sets.

Your heart raced, but not from fear.

You knew.

Even before confirmation, even before the held breath in the dark—you knew exactly who they were.

So you closed your eyes.

Pretended to sleep.

The door creaked softly.

Careful footsteps crossed the room, followed by a light weight on the mattress—first on one side... then on the other.

The familiar scent came with them. Worn clothes, cold night, a faint metallic trace... and them.

Your husbands.

Thin and Fat.

No masks.

No warning.

As always.

For a few seconds, neither of them said anything. It was as if they were just... looking at you. Confirming it was real. That you were still there.

Then—

"Hey..." Fat's voice came first, low, carrying a smile impossible to hide. He leaned in, coming dangerously close to your face. "Guess who decided not to rot in jail?"

Before he could continue, a sharp sound of hand meeting arm echoed softly.

"Shh!" Thin hissed, annoyed, pulling the other back with a sharp look. "Do you want to wake them up like that, you idiot?"

"What, what's the problem?" Fat retorted in the same low tone, but still too excited for the situation. "I want to see their face when they realize we're back!"

"And I want not to get arrested again in five minutes," Thin shot back, crossing his arms, though his eyes inevitably returned to you, softer than his voice let on.

A brief silence fell between them.

Different from before.

This one... was full.

Full of unspoken longing.

"They look thinner," Fat murmured, this time lower, almost careful.

"Or you forgot what they looked like," Thin replied, but without aggression. His fingers drummed lightly on the mattress, restless. "We were away too long."

Another silence.

Then, even quieter—

"We should've come back sooner."

This didn't sound like an argument.

It sounded like guilt.

And for the first time since they'd entered, neither of them seemed to know exactly what to do.

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