The Trade Center buzzed with the sound of bartering and haggling. People moved like shadows between stalls, eyes scanning for what their meager credits could buy: food, supplies, tools, and for those with enough money-organs, flesh, and lives.
Rody always hated the Trade Center. The metallic stench of desperation clung to the air, but it was something else that had kept him away all these years. It wasn’t just the ruin of the world around him; it was the hollowed-out faces, the broken people standing behind cages, waiting to be bought. He didn’t want to be part of that-he didn’t *need* to be part of that. He had money, connections, and comfort. What would he need from a place like this?
Still, here he was, dragged along by Richard and the rest of his friends.
“Come on, Rody, lighten up,” Richard said, clapping him on the back as they moved deeper into the heart of the market. “You can’t hide up in that penthouse forever. The world’s ugly, but we’ve still got to live in it. Besides, maybe you’ll find something… fun.” He winked, and Rody rolled his eyes.
Rody shoved his hands into his pockets, letting out a long breath. He hated this. “I don’t need anything. I’m just here because you wouldn’t shut up about it.”
Richard laughed, the sound harsh in the cold air. “That’s the spirit. Trust me, you might find something you didn’t know you needed.”
As they walked through the rows of stalls, Rody couldn’t help but glance at the merchandise. Every booth displayed something different: scraps of tech, rusted weapons, even vats of pickled organs. But the real draw-the reason the elites came-was the human market. Rows of people, standing behind reinforced cages, their eyes downcast and bodies trembling from the cold. They were for sale, stripped of dignity and self. To be sold and used.
“Look at that one,” Richard said, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper as he pointed toward a vendor. “He’s got the good stuff.”
Rody reluctantly followed Richard’s gaze and saw the seller-an older man with a greasy grin-standing next to a row of chained humans. But one figure caught his eye. A man, standing at the center of the group, bound by thick iron cuffs. His head was held high, his dark eyes scanning the crowd, but there was something almost… hopeful in them. Too hopeful. It was unsettling, like he was waiting for something.
“That one,” the seller said, noticing the attention and grinning wider. “Special. *Untouched.* Pristine, you could say. Fresh to the market, and well-trained. Eager to please. He’ll do anything for approval.” The seller’s voice dripped with pride, as though he was showing off a prize-winning animal.
Rody felt a strange knot form in his stomach. The man-Vincent, according to the sign above his head-was different. His posture was rigid, almost too perfect, and his eyes… there was something desperate in them. A hunger that made Rody’s skin crawl.
“He’s been priced higher because of his… condition,” the seller continued, stroking his chin as though he was considering how best to sell his product. “Never touched. No one’s laid a hand on him. Completely *yours* to shape.”
Richard chuckled, nudging Rody. “This one’s a bit out of your league, eh? Pricey, but worth every credit. You don’t see many like him these days.”
Rody’s mouth went dry. He wasn’t interested. Not really. He didn’t want to get involved in this sick transaction. But the way Vincent looked at him-it was unsettling. Too intense. Too eager. Like he was *hoping* to be chosen. Hoping to serve.
“How much?” Rody asked, the question spilling out before he could stop himself.
The seller’s grin widened, clearly pleased. “For you, 3,500 credits. A steal, if you ask me. He’ll be the most loyal servant you’ll ever have. Won’t give you a single problem.”
Rody hesitated, his heart pounding in his chest. What was he doing? He didn’t need this. But something about Vincent’s eyes made him feel trapped, like he couldn’t just walk away.
He handed over the credits.
The seller quickly unlocked Vincent’s cuffs, his greasy hands working efficiently to transfer ownership. Rody half-expected Vincent to show some sign of relief, maybe even gratitude, but the man only blinked and moved closer, too obedient, too… perfect.
As they left the market, Vincent followed silently behind, his presence looming like a shadow.
“You’re really going to take him home, huh?” Richard asked, laughing as they walked through the streets. “You don’t strike me as the type to enjoy this sort of thing, but… who knows. Maybe he’ll grow on you.”
Rody didn’t respond. He couldn’t shake the strange feeling in his gut, the unease that came from having someone like Vincent following him so closely, without question, without hesitation.
They reached his apartment, a tall, pristine building that towered over the decaying city below. Once inside, Rody turned to face Vincent, who stood just inside the door, waiting. Always waiting.
“You don’t have to stand there like that,” Rody muttered, rubbing his temples. “Sit down, relax… I don’t know. Just act normal.”
Vincent’s eyes flickered with confusion for a brief moment before he quickly moved to sit on the couch, his movements stiff but precise. He sat on the edge of the cushion, hands folded neatly in his lap, his back perfectly straight. The silence between them was suffocating.
Rody sighed. “Look, I don’t know what you’ve been through, but you don’t have to act like… this. Just be yourself. You don’t have to try so hard to please me.”
Vincent’s gaze snapped to his, panic flashing in his dark eyes. “I’m sorry,” he said quickly, his voice soft but trembling. “I didn’t mean to… displease you.”
Rody frowned. “You’re not-what? I’m not mad.”
Vincent’s breath quickened, and he leaned forward slightly, his hands trembling in his lap. “I’ll do better,” he whispered, his voice frantic. “I’ll be better. Just tell me what you want. I’ll do anything. I’ll-“
“Stop,” Rody said sharply, his heart racing. Vincent’s desperation was palpable, his eagerness to please bordering on manic. It was too much. “I don’t want you to do anything. I just… I don’t want you to feel like you have to-“
“Please,” Vincent interrupted, his voice cracking. “Please, just tell me what I did wrong. I can fix it. I can-“
“You didn’t do anything wrong!” Rody snapped, his frustration spilling over. “Just calm down!”
Vincent flinched, his entire body tensing as if bracing for a blow. His eyes widened, and for a brief moment, Rody saw something raw in them-fear, desperation, and something darker, something deeper.
“I’m sorry,” Vincent whispered, his voice trembling. “I’ll do anything. Just don’t… don’t punish me. Don’t…”
Rody’s chest tightened. He didn’t know what to do, what to say. Vincent was unraveling before him, the carefully constructed facade of obedience crumbling under the weight of his desperation.
“I’m not going to punish you,” Rody said softly, trying to calm him. “But you need to stop… this. You’re acting like… like you’re afraid.”
Vincent’s eyes filled with tears, but he quickly blinked them away, forcing a strained smile. “I’m not afraid,” he said, his voice too bright, too forced. “I’m just… I just want to make you happy. That’s all that matters.”
Rody swallowed hard, unsure of how to handle the situation. Vincent’s desperation was suffocating, his need for approval overwhelming. It wasn’t normal. It wasn’t right.
“You don’t have to do that,” Rody said, his voice barely above a whisper. “You don’t have to try so hard.”
Vincent’s smile faltered, his eyes searching Rody’s face for any sign of approval, any hint that he was doing the right thing. When he found none, his expression crumbled, and he quickly dropped his gaze to the floor.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered again, his voice so small it was barely audible. “I’m sorry.”
Rody sat there, watching Vincent tremble on the edge of the couch, too eager, too desperate, too broken.
The room felt unbearably quiet. The weight of Vincent’s desperation pressed down on Rody, suffocating him. Every slight movement Vincent made-his trembling fingers, the way his breath hitched every few moments-was a reminder of the man’s fragile state.
Rody ran a hand through his hair, unsure of how to proceed. This was beyond anything he had ever dealt with. Vincent wasn’t just obedient; he was *terrified*. It was as though his entire existence hinged on Rody’s approval, and the mere thought of disapproval sent him spiraling.
“Vincent,” Rody began slowly, unsure of how to navigate this minefield, “I don’t want you to be afraid. I’m not going to hurt you, and you don’t need to prove anything to me. You’re not… you’re not a servant, not here.”
Vincent flinched at the words, his eyes darting back to Rody’s face, wide with panic. “But I have to be useful,” he whispered, his voice trembling with a manic edge. “I need to make you happy. I *have* to. Please, I can do better. Just tell me what you want. I’ll be whatever you need me to be.”
Rody’s heart sank. This wasn’t just about obedience or fear. This was something deeper-something that had been drilled into Vincent for who knows how long. He was desperate for validation, willing to twist himself into whatever shape someone wanted just to avoid rejection, avoid pain. The intensity of it, the sheer depth of that need, was overwhelming.
“Vincent,” Rody said gently, stepping closer, trying to break through whatever walls had been forced around this man’s mind, “I don’t want you to do anything. Just… breathe. You don’t have to try so hard. You don’t have to be perfect. I’m not going to throw you out. I’m not going to hurt you.”
Vincent stared at him, blinking rapidly as if trying to process the words. “But what if I make a mistake?” he asked, his voice cracking with the weight of his anxiety. “What if I do something wrong? You’ll hate me. I can’t… I can’t handle that. I have to be good. I have to.”
His hands gripped the edge of the couch so tightly his knuckles were white, and Rody could see the fear flooding his expression-the fear of failure, of inadequacy, of being unwanted.
Rody knelt in front of him, looking up into his eyes. “You don’t have to be perfect,” he said quietly, holding Vincent’s gaze. “I don’t need you to be. You’re fine just as you are. Stop worrying about trying to please me.”
Vincent’s breathing quickened, his eyes wild with confusion and disbelief. “But I’m nothing if I’m not useful. I’m nothing if I don’t make people happy.” His voice grew frantic, his chest rising and falling in rapid breaths. “I’ll do anything for you. Just tell me what you need.”
Rody shook his head, a strange mix of frustration and sorrow building in his chest. “That’s not how this works. You’re not here to be some… thing I own. You’re a person.”
Vincent’s eyes darted to the side, his mind racing as though he was trying to find an answer, a way to fix whatever imaginary mistake he thought he’d made. He bit his lip, his hands trembling as he reached for Rody’s arm.
“I can be better,” Vincent whispered, his voice barely audible, full of raw desperation. “Please… just don’t leave me. Don’t send me away. I’ll do anything. Anything you want. Just say the word.”
Rody’s stomach twisted. He didn’t know how to help someone this broken. Vincent wasn’t just eager to please; he was a man on the verge of collapse, holding himself together through sheer force of will because he thought that was what would keep him from being abandoned.
Without thinking, Rody reached out and grabbed Vincent’s hand, gripping it firmly. “I’m not going anywhere,” he said, his voice low but firm. “You don’t need to act like this. You don’t have to earn my approval. You’re not some tool to be thrown away if you screw up. Stop thinking like that.”
Vincent stared at him, his eyes wide and disbelieving. “I… I don’t know how,” he whispered, tears gathering at the corners of his eyes. “I don’t know how to be anything else.”
Rody sighed, running his thumb over the back of Vincent’s hand. “You’re not supposed to be *something else*. You’re supposed to be *you*. But if you’re going to stay with me, you need to stop tearing yourself apart like this. You don’t need to be so afraid.”
Vincent blinked, tears spilling down his cheeks now, though he made no move to wipe them away. His lips parted as though he wanted to say something, but no words came out. Instead, he just sat there, staring at Rody, the weight of his panic and fear hanging heavy in the air between them.
“Look,” Rody said after a long moment of silence, “I don’t know what you’ve been through before this. But I’m not like the people who sold you. I don’t want you to live in fear every second. I don’t want you to feel like you have to *earn* the right to stay.”
Vincent swallowed hard, his voice a broken whisper. “But I don’t know what else to be.”
Rody squeezed his hand. “Then we’ll figure it out. But for now, just… breathe. You don’t have to keep trying to please me. Just exist, okay?”
Vincent nodded, though the look in his eyes was still fragile, still uncertain. He clung to Rody’s hand like a lifeline, and for the first time since he had been brought to Rody’s apartment, he let himself breathe, the desperate edge of his panic ebbing slightly. But it was still there, lingering beneath the surface, waiting to be triggered again by the smallest hint of disapproval or mistake.
Rody didn’t know how long it would take to fix what had been broken in Vincent, or if it was even possible to fix at all. But he couldn’t leave him like this. Not when it was clear that Vincent had nowhere else to turn.
Not when it was clear that Vincent had been left shattered by a world that had ground him down until there was nothing left but this-this eager, desperate, broken man who didn’t know how to be anything other than what someone else wanted.
“I won’t hurt you,” Rody whispered. “And I won’t leave you behind.”
Vincent’s grip tightened ever so slightly, as though holding on to those words for dear life.
Days blurred into weeks, and as time passed, Vincent began to settle into Rody’s home. The panic that had once been a constant part of Vincent’s demeanor had lessened, though it never entirely disappeared. He still watched Rody closely, as if studying him for any flicker of displeasure. But now, there was something else in his eyes-something that hadn’t been there before.
Rody noticed it, too. Vincent had become… attached. At first, it was subtle-Vincent lingering a little longer in conversations, his gaze drifting toward Rody whenever they were in the same room. But over time, it became clearer. Vincent wasn’t just following orders anymore. He wasn’t just afraid of being discarded. He was seeking something from Rody that went beyond the simple need to survive.
Vincent wanted more.
It was in the way Vincent’s eyes tracked Rody when he moved. The way he hovered, always ready to help, always desperate to be useful. But there was more to it now-an undercurrent of need, a longing that went deeper than mere obedience.
One night, after a quiet dinner, Rody found Vincent standing by the window, staring out at the sprawling city below. The faint lights of the distant Trade Center flickered in the distance, casting a shadow over the room.
“Vincent?” Rody’s voice was soft, cautious. He didn’t want to startle him, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that something had been shifting between them.
Vincent turned, his eyes wide and almost vulnerable. “Rody…” He hesitated, biting his lip. There was a flicker of hesitation in his posture, as if he wasn’t sure how to proceed. “Am I… doing enough? For you?”
Vincent’s breath hitched, his gaze flicking to the floor for a brief moment before he looked back at Rody. “You’ve been… so kind to me,” he started, his voice trembling slightly. “You’ve treated me better than anyone ever has. I-I don’t know how to thank you for that.”
Rody frowned. He’d told Vincent time and time again that he didn’t need to *do* anything, but it seemed the message never truly sank in. “You don’t have to keep asking that,” he replied, moving closer. “You don’t have to do anything for me, Vincent. You’re fine as you are.”
Vincent’s hands twitched at his sides, and Rody could see the conflict in his eyes. “But I… I *want* to,” Vincent said, his voice low and thick with emotion. “I want to do something for you. Something more than just-” He cut himself off, his face flushing with frustration and shame. “I don’t want to just be here, taking up space. I want to give you something. I want to matter to you.” He stepped closer, his eyes wide and pleading. “I need to do something for you. I want to be more for you, Rody. I-I’m nothing without you. You’ve given me so much, and I-I don’t have anything to give you back.”
Rody sighed, running a hand through his hair. He’d never asked for this. He’d never wanted to become someone’s emotional crutch, but here they were. And what was he supposed to say? That Vincent *did* matter? That he was more than just a body Rody had purchased on a whim?
“I’m not asking you to give me anything,” Rody said, keeping his tone gentle. “You’re not here to fill some role or to make me happy. You don’t have to offer me anything.”
Vincent’s face twisted in frustration, his breath hitching as he spoke. “But I *want* you to want me,” he confessed, his voice raw. “I want to be more than just some broken thing you’re keeping around out of pity.”
Rody opened his mouth to speak, to reassure him again, but the words died in his throat when Vincent suddenly reached out and grabbed his wrist. There was a feverish look in his eyes now, a desperation that went beyond anything Rody had seen before.
“I can give you me,” Vincent whispered, stepping even closer. “I can give you what no one else has had. I-I’ve never been with anyone before. I’m… untouched. You bought me for a reason, right? Let me give you what you paid for.”
Rody froze, his heart pounding in his chest. “Vincent,” he said, his voice rough with disbelief, “that’s not why I bought you. I didn’t want you for that.”
Vincent’s grip tightened on his wrist, his breathing shallow and quick. “But you should. You deserve more. I’m useless, Rody. All I have is my body. You’ve done so much for me. Let me give you something back. Let me make you happy.”
Before Rody could react, Vincent leaned in and pressed his lips against Rody’s. The kiss was soft, tentative at first, but Rody could feel the desperation behind it. Vincent’s hands trembled as he held onto Rody, as if he was terrified that Rody would push him away or him like so many others had.
Rody stood still, his mind reeling. He hadn’t expected this-not from Vincent. He had seen the way Vincent looked at him, felt the shift in the way he acted around him, but he hadn’t realized how deep it ran. How badly Vincent wanted his approval. How badly he wanted to belong to someone, even if it meant offering something he clearly didn’t understand.
Rody pulled back, his hand moving to Vincent’s shoulder as he gently pushed him away. “Vincent, stop. You don’t have to do this.”
Vincent’s eyes were wide, panicked, as though he’d made a terrible mistake. “I-I’m sorry. I-I thought-” His voice broke, and he took a step back, wrapping his arms around himself as though trying to hold himself together. “I thought it would make you happy. I just want to be good for you.”
Rody’s chest tightened. He wasn’t angry at Vincent-he couldn’t be. Vincent was too broken, too conditioned to think that this was the only way he could be of value. But the sight of him like this, offering himself so desperately, made something twist painfully in Rody’s stomach.
“You don’t need to give me anything,” Rody said firmly, his voice softening as he reached out to gently touch Vincent’s arm. “You’re not here to… to do that. You’re not some object to be used. I don’t need you to prove yourself to me.”
Vincent shook his head, tears gathering in his eyes. “But I want you to want me. I want to be enough for you. Please, I’ll do anything. Just tell me what you need, and I’ll do it. I-I don’t know how to be anything else.”
Rody sighed, his heart aching as he watched Vincent’s broken desperation unfold in front of him. He didn’t know what to say, how to fix this. Vincent had been trained, conditioned, to think his only worth came from pleasing someone-anyone. And now, that someone was Rody.
“You’re already enough,” Rody said quietly, taking Vincent’s trembling hands in his. “You don’t need to offer yourself to me. You don’t need to be anything other than who you are.”
Vincent stared at him, his lips parted, his eyes searching Rody’s face for any sign of rejection. “But… I don’t have anything else to give.”
Rody shook his head. “I didn’t buy you because I wanted something from you. I just-” He paused, unsure how to explain the strange pull he’d felt that day at the trade center. “I didn’t want to see you trapped there, with someone who would hurt you.”
Vincent blinked, as if trying to understand. “But… why? Why would you care?”
Rody sighed. “Because you’re more than what those people told you. You deserve more than that.”
For a long moment, Vincent was silent, his hands trembling in Rody’s. Finally, he let out a shaky breath, his shoulders slumping. “I don’t know how to be more.”
Rody squeezed his hands. “Then we’ll figure it out. Together.”
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