The Boy Next DOOR.

Sebastian stood in front of the bathroom mirror, shirtless, wearing only a pair of long black pants. His reflection revealed several scratch marks across his chest and back, like he'd been in a brawl with a wild animal. He ran a hand through his hair, smirking at the sight of the fresh wounds.

"Is he a cat or what?" he muttered to himself, referring to Valerian's fierce resistance.

His face and neck also bore faint scratches, the result of Valerian's desperate attempts to fight him off the night before. As Sebastian walked out of the bathroom and into the bedroom, the soft morning light streamed in. Valerian was still asleep, lying motionless on the bed. Only his upper body was visible, his torso marked with hickeys, teeth marks, and handprints. The duvet covered him from the waist down, his once-perfect skin now marred with evidence of the previous night's events.

Sebastian took a sip from the coffee mug he had prepared earlier and stepped out onto the balcony. The cool morning breeze washed over him as he leaned against the iron railing, staring out at the horizon. Inside, Valerian stirred.

His eyes fluttered open slowly, blinking away the remnants of sleep. The events of the previous night flooded back in vivid detail, and tears welled up instantly. His body ached all over, his waist throbbed painfully.

"H-he stole my pride... He raped me," Valerian whispered, his voice trembling. Tears spilled down his cheeks as he sniffled quietly. He didn't dare move, convinced that the torture would resume the moment Sebastian realized he was awake.

Valerian snuggled deeper into the bed, trying to hide from the world, embarrassed and humiliated. His tangled hair fell across his face, and he reached up with trembling hands to push it away. Just as he settled, he heard Sebastian's voice.

"Get up." The deep, commanding tone pierced the silence, and Valerian's heart raced. He hesitated, pulling the duvet tighter around his body. He didn't look at Sebastian as he slowly sat up, his movements sluggish and weak.

When Valerian attempted to stand, his legs gave out beneath him. He whimpered, falling back onto the bed. His legs trembled uncontrollably, the exhaustion too much to bear. Sebastian watched, his eyes cold and indifferent.

Valerian tried again, cautiously this time, but collapsed once more, gasping as pain shot through his waist. His face contorted in agony, but Sebastian remained silent, merely observing him.

"Don't touch me," Valerian whispered weakly as Sebastian bent down to pick him up. His voice was so soft that it almost went unheard. When Sebastian's hands wrapped around him, Valerian recoiled.

"I said, don't touch me!" Valerian screamed, pushing Sebastian's arms away with what little strength he had left. But Sebastian ignored him, his expression unreadable as he scooped him up effortlessly.

Valerian struggled, his body twisting in Sebastian's grip. He squirmed and kicked, biting down hard on Sebastian's arm, drawing blood. Sebastian stopped in his tracks, staring down at the wound with a strange calmness. A bead of blood trickled down his arm as he turned to look at Valerian.

"Why did you bite me?" His voice was dangerously low, a quiet menace simmering beneath the surface. He licked the blood from his arm, his eyes dark with restrained fury.

"Is it because I've been too lenient with you?" he growled softly, his tone now dripping with malice. Valerian flinched, expecting a blow, but instead, Sebastian bent down and whispered in his ear, "Don't try that again."

With that, he carried Valerian to the bathroom, ignoring his tears and protests. He turned on the bathtub faucet, and after stripping the duvet away, placed Valerian gently into the warm water without a word. Then, without so much as a glance back, Sebastian walked out.

Left alone, Valerian submerged himself in the bath, the water offering little comfort to his battered body. He felt numb, hollow, and utterly humiliated.

Back in the bedroom, Sebastian noticed the bloodstains on the bed, remnants of Valerian's forced submission. With a detached expression, he stripped the soiled sheets, replaced them with fresh linens, and discarded the bloodied bedding along with Valerian's torn clothes. After setting the washing machine, he returned upstairs, his movements deliberate and methodical.

Valerian, now wrapped in a towel, emerged from the bathroom. His eyes, puffy from crying, scanned the room. The bed was freshly made, and a neatly folded shirt sat waiting for him. He sighed heavily, feeling a wave of shame wash over him as he thought about the horrors he had endured.

"I'm going to kill him the moment I get the chance," Valerian muttered to himself, his voice seething with hatred. "I won't spare him."

After a few minutes, Valerian descended the stairs, his body still weak. He was wearing the oversized white shirt Sebastian had left for him. It hung loosely on his frame, slipping off one shoulder, and barely reached his knees. The scent of Sebastian clung to the fabric, making Valerian feel sick to his stomach, but he had no other choice. He shuffled into the living room, where Sebastian sat on the couch, scrolling through his phone.

Sebastian glanced up as Valerian entered, his gaze lingering on the shirt slipping off his shoulder.

"You're done," Sebastian remarked, his tone casual as if nothing had happened. "If you're hungry, go make yourself something in the kitchen." His indifferent attitude earned him a fierce glare from Valerian.

"Oh? Were you expecting me to cook for you?" Sebastian taunted, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "Bad news: I don't cook."

He stood up, heading for the door. "I'll be out for a while. Behave," he added before disappearing out the door, leaving Valerian standing in the living room, seething.

Valerian's hands balled into fists as the door clicked shut behind Sebastian. He wanted nothing more than to escape, but he knew better. If he didn't comply, the consequences would be far worse. For now, he had to endure—until he found a way out.