Dear Diary, In unity there is everything or whatever fangs and sweet pea say. A black woman 27 loves her babies and part of a lot of fandoms. Be safe and love all you beauties 😍MY DMS FOR REQUESTS ARE FOREVER BLESSED OPEN FOR YOU AND SMUT SWEETHEARTS TOO! 😍 m.list
tags: switchy san, ab riding / outercourse, no penetration!!, praise kink, bodily fluids
posting this old draft as an apology for deleting the wooyoung fic _(:3 」∠)_
it’s a rainy day, the sound of it pattering against the window filling the quiet room. san’s already on his back as you crawl over him, shirt gone and sweats shoved down his thighs, cock resting thick and heavy against his stomach.
his chest rises and falls quickly, skin warm under your palms as you settle on his waist, kissing him slowly as you trace the lines of his abs.
“mmh, baby.. you feel so good,” he murmurs against your mouth, breath catching when you shift higher to let your bare cunt rest against the firm plane of his stomach. "fuck, you're so wet.. can feel how warm you are.. gonna make such a mess, aren't you?"
you start rocking your hips in gentle motions, dragging your slick folds over the smooth skin of his stomach. san's abs tighten under you the second you press down, every ridge sharpening as he lets out a shaky groan, head tipping back into the pillow.
"shit.. that's it. grind on me just like that. you feel so perfect on me," he mumbles, hands settling on your hips and stroking soft circles into your skin.
the slick sounds of you gliding across him fills the room, your wetness spreading on his skin and making his abs shiny. "god, listen to that.. you're soaking me already. keep going baby, use me," san mutters, breathing getting heavier.
you lean forward and brace your hands on his chest, letting your clit catch on the lines of his muscle. the friction builds heat in your belly, your eyes fluttering shut as san watches you.
his cock twitches against his stomach, the head flushed and leaking, brushing near your folds every time you grind back and forth, but never slipping inside.
"getting me all messy, shit.. my cock's throbbing just from feeling you, don't stop- please-" san groans loudly, feeling the wetness dragging over him.
your hands slide to his shoulders as you move in longer strokes, dragging your cunt from the top of his abs and down to his hips. "fuck yes.. you're dripping all over me, baby.. gonna make me cum just watching you," san moans, fingers digging into your hips.
he flexes his abs deliberately, making the ridges of muscle harder, adding enough friction to pull a whimper from your throat. "you like when i do that? make a mess, baby.. wanna feel you cum all over my stomach," san teases, voice low as his eyes darken.
you rock faster, thighs starting to burn as you chase your orgasm. "that's my girl.. so pretty grinding on me. fuck, i'm so hard it hurts," he murmurs roughly, thumbs rubbing circles in the skin of your hips.
his stomach glistens with your slick mixed with his pre-cum, the sounds loud enough to echo in the room, making you blush. san's hands roam, one hand cupping your breast and playing with your nipple while the other one squeezes your ass, guiding your hips.
"you're getting close, aren't you baby? wanna feel you cum right on my abs. please, baby," san mumbles, guiding your hips faster.
your clit pulses with every glide, san's hands gripping you tighter. "please cum on me, baby.. wanna feel it, fuck-" san whimpers as you grind faster, hands gripping his shoulders painfully tight.
you cum hard, body shaking as you grind through every wave. san follows right after, a whimper falling from his lips as he cums untouched, thick ropes of cum spilling over his abs and mixing with your mess.
you collapse onto his chest, breathing hard as he wraps his arms around you, pressing lazy kisses into your shoulder. "give me a few minutes, then we have to do that again.. you made me cum so hard."
a/n: yunho has been messing me up lately… i wrote this pretty quickly. I’m not great at proofreading and editing so i hope you guys enjoy… i am NOT ready but soooooo ready for the comeback 😭 check out my MASTERLIST while you’re here. :)
Synopsis: Yunho has a bad day at work and just needs to release some steam.
WARNINGS: 18+ MDNI rough sex, head pushing, yunho is kind of mean and demanding, mentions of spit, cum, etc., everything is consensual (always always), um feel free to let me know if i missed anything big.
You hear him shuffle in later than usual, an irritated groan escaping his throat as he kicks off his shoes at the door. You knew he’d had a rough day at the office, easily pieced together from the endless string of texts you received to your phone during the day. You quickly pushed yourself up from the couch to greet him, and found a tired eyed Yunho frowning, as he moved into the apartment. His hair was clearly run through by his long fingers far too many times. His tie was already loosened and hanging around his neck. It was a contrast of the man that left you that morning, all clean cut and polished as he always was. “Hi…” You say, softly. Your hands smooth over the white button up that was already unbuttoned just a few notches, up his chest and over his shoulders as he leans in to kiss you. His arms wrap around you and tighten as he hums into your mouth.
“Hi.” He breathes, pulling away but his lips stay ghosting over yours.
“Do you want to talk about it?” You ask, and you watch as his tongue digs into his cheek.
“No.” He shakes his head, “I just need you right now.”
His lips already press into yours before you can respond, and you feel yourself being pushed back just a little further into the apartment. You don’t make it far, when your back is pressed up against a wall, his lips not missing a beat in working against yours. His tongue dips into your mouth and pulls a small sound from your throat as he presses against you. You can feel his frustration, like a wave of heat as he pins you in place. Kissing you harder, hands beginning to grab and hold tighter as you whimper into his mouth. “On your knees.” He breathes, a demand you obey without protest, his hand on the top of your head pressing you down until your knees find the floor. He uses only one hand to loosen the belt holding up his pants, and your hands work to help get his pants down. Your eyes finding him looking down at you through his glasses. You don’t wait for further instruction to free the bulging erection beneath black cotton fabric. “Good…” He breathes, “Good girl.” He’s big, heavy. It makes your mouth water, and you wrap a hand around his length looking up to find his needy eyes. You kiss up his shaft taking your time, your tongue dipping to kitten lip just the tip as he whimpers. “Not now…” He growls, pushing you toward him. “Open. Wide.”
You do as you're told, his anger starting to seep into him as he glides himself into your mouth. You gag around him when he pushes back into your throat but you focus on your breathing and let him use your throat. When your eyes manage to find him he’s watching as he pulls back just enough to give you reprieve, but is already slowly rolling his hips back into you. You moan around him, one of his hands steadies himself, his palm flat against the wall above you, the other is firmly anchored in your hair helping to guide himself into you. “That’s it…” He groans, “Let me just…” His cock finds the back of your throat, and you swallow around him for good measure. Your throat is contracting, as your mouth fills with saliva “fuuuuuck.” His head falls back as he leaves it there for a few seconds longer slowly pulling back out this time letting you breathe fully. You’re gasping, spit dripping down your chin, eyes watering as you get some air but you open your mouth again, eyes up, head back, tongue out. It makes him moan to see you so willing, and he sinks his cock back in easier now. You moan around him and suck your cheeks in as he begins to slowly rock his hips into you, his grip on your hair tightening as he fucks your mouth. “That’s… so good…” he moans, his words only making you drip between your thighs. “Keep your eyes on me…” he breathes, and you do. Even through tears it’s hard to look away. He looks like a god above you, his bottom lip being pulled in by his teeth, his big eyes even darker than before, filled with uncontrollable lust and hunger. He pulls off his glasses and tosses them to the side before running his fingers through his hair and pulling just enough while he drives his cock into your throat. When he pulls out again your hands reach for him, both wrapping around his soaked cock to stroke him while you catch your breath. He moans as your tongue swirls around his tip, sloppy and wet as your hands easily pump his cock. You bat your lashes, you bite your lip, you show him how eager you are when your jaw opens wide, your tongue out flat and ready to take him again. It drives him crazy, and he doesn’t hold back from fucking your throat harder. His moans turned into grunting, growling, just feral sounds from deep in his chest. You don’t sound much off from that, though muffled you’re practically gargling him with moans to send vibrations around his length. You know he’s close, you feel him twitch and his once rhythmic pace sputters to slow but deep thrusts of his hips. His head pushes into the hand that’s flat against the wall above you, as he moans loudly his eyes finding yours as his cum starts to pour out of him. He moves your head back, just enough to watch you swallow every last drop he gives. Even as he trembles and whimpers he rocks his hips to fully empty himself down your throat. You suck off him when he lets you go, but he doesn’t give you a minute to really breathe as he’s pulling you up. “You’ve been so good I think you deserve a treat.” He growls, before his lips sloppily find yours.
His tongue is even more present in your mouth than before, as he pulls you toward your couch. Any frustration you thought he’d released seems distant now. He pushes you down, hands already pulling at your pants and getting them off you with haste. You barely get your bearings on the couch. His breathing is ragged as he pulls your hips up to him, pressing your back forward and your head down against the couch. His hand smoothing over your ass spreading you open, a moan falling from his lips as he stroked himself and used the tip to tease your entrance. You whimper anticipating what was next, looking back at him wiggling your hips just to tease. Yunho usually took his time with you, most of the time he’d use his fingers to prep you and he loved using his mouth to make you unravel beneath him. Tonight, he was just needy. His frustration came out as passion and need, and you were more than happy to help. “Look at you. Already wet.” He murmured, “So eager to please me.” A firm hand slaps your ass and you jolt forward with a yelp, “No no no, you don’t get to run from me.” He growls, pulling you back toward him. Your bottom lip getting caught in your teeth, a hand smooths over your red skin as you arch your back and he doesn’t waste more time before sinking into you. “Relax, for me.” He groans, and you let out a breath you didn’t realize you had been holding. It’s a tight fit, but one you’ve dealt with before. You steady your breathing, you whimper as he sinks into you a bit more. You turn your head to look at him again, his face blushed slightly as he focused on the spot where you and he connected. You catch him pushing spit to his lips, letting it slowly cascade down to his cock. You shudder when he thrusts into you, and moan into the couch cushion beneath you when he finally bottoms out. “There we go.” He breathes his hands smoothing over your ass, down your back still covered by your shirt. He’s still in his too. It doesn’t seem to bother him as he begins to rock into you, one hand finding your hair at the back of your head, grabbing a handful as you whimper beneath him. He pulls your head back, up out of the couch as he gets into a steady rhythm of thrusting into you.
Your fingers curl into the cushion beneath you as he growls and groans, mumbling curses angrily slamming his cock deep into your pussy at a steady pace. It’s just enough to make you really feel every inch of him, and you clench around him as he holds your head up by your hair. His other hand is holding your hips, fingers digging into your flesh as he rocks you back on his cock. You don’t have to do much, just let him use you how he needs and it just makes your pussy more wet for him. You become mailable for him, and just try to keep yourself upright as your own pleasure starts to build in your tummy. “Yu…” you moan out his name, “Use me… fuuuuck.” You moan as he slams into harder than before, it feels deeper too, he stops moving, just letting him fill you.
“Stop fucking talking.” He growls, “Just let me—“ he moans as you clench around him, laughing darkly as he starts to move again. He moves his angle without pulling from you, and then he’s back with the same pace as before, steady, firmly. The sound of his skin snapping into yours, your wet pussy, his growling and moaning floods your ears, and your body is lit on fire as he starts to pick up the pace. “You love being used like this. My own personal toy.” He growls, you don’t dare speak again, instead your voice offers a shaky moan that sounds more like a wail, muffled slightly by the couch beneath you. He chuckles at that, his grip in your hair tightening before he presses your head down into the couch. He doesn’t let up, as your brain short circuits, your open mouth producing a pool of drool as he pounds into you. “Your brain shut off yet?” He groans, and you don’t dare respond, again, you manage a sound that resembles a moan.
Before you can process it he’s pulling out of you, and letting go of your hair. You don’t need to think before he’s flipping you over onto your back, pushing your knees up and to the side, sinking right back into you with a raspy groan. He starts to move, rolling his hips into you and watching you take him. Your eyes clenching shut as he manages to fuck into you deeper than before. Your body burns, a sweet and intense pleasure growing as he bites his bottom lip and pushes himself forward. His entire body weight against you as he presses his forehead to yours. His hands let go of your thighs but you keep them up with your own hands. Your nails digging into your thighs as one of his hands finds your cheeks, squeezing tightly as his breathing hitches in your face. “Look at me while I’m fucking you.” He demands and your eyes flash open, your brain doing the work for you. Your eyes lock into his big blown pupils. He growls in approval, gritting his teeth as he continues slamming himself into you. He’s so deep you can feel him in your chest, and your moan comes out through squished cheeks like you’re weeping. His thumb loosens before dipping into your mouth, his eyes on you as he watches you suck on his thumb, pressing into your tongue. Your eyes welled up with tears, as he maneuvered his hips again, finding that spot inside of you with precision. You moan around his finger, trying to keep your eyes locked into his. He slowly pulls his thumb from your mouth as his hips shudder, “I’m going to fill you with my cum, and you’re going to thank me for it.” He hums his hand moving down to your throat, fingers settling around your neck as he pushes himself up just enough to hover above you. He doesn’t squeeze but he presses slightly as he lets out a higher than before whimper fall from his lips. Then you feel it, his cock twitching, he buries himself deep in you as he lets go. He fills you up, as he rocks his hips now slowly in you. His eyes are looking between you, watching as his cock slowly slides halfway out, covered in your arousal and his cum before he presses deep into you again. His bottom lip quivers as you clench around him.
Your legs shake as he stays there for a moment, his eyes rolling back as his head falls back. He breathes heavily, before he swallows and looks back at you. “Th- Thank you.” you whimper, close but not quite there. He smiles, a dark chuckle leaving his lips as he loosens his grip around your throat, his hand running down the front of your shirt.
“Good girl.” He hums, “You wanna cum?” He asks, and you feel him pull out then. You whine as you feel yourself clenching around nothing, desperate and needy as he pulls you up. “I’m tired, if you want to
cum you’ll make yourself cum.” He wasn’t like this usually, he loved making you cum. Tonight he was on a different level, and it only made you want him more. He sits back on the couch pulling you toward him, cock hard again as he stroked it beneath you. “Cmon then, ride me.” He rasps. You crawl onto him, needy and determined. You can feel yourself soaking, his cum and your arousal would need to be deep cleaned later, but you find his cock with your hands. He doesn’t help; he sits back, chest still rising and falling as you slowly sink down onto him. He bites his bottom lip as you already twitch around him. Your hands find his clothed shoulders to steady yourself as you readjust to the new angle. You feel the fire already half lit in your tummy when you take the time to feel him. How full he made you, his pretty mouth falling open as you slowly moved up and down on him. Your fingers dig into the fabric still covering him as you begin to bounce, now chasing your own high. One of his hands finally reaches for you, his hand finding his favorite spot at the crown of your head another handful of hair. He firmly pulls your hair back, your head following along. “I said fucking ride me.” he growls and you moan in response beginning to roll your hips, moving faster.
You feel the pleasure building, your skin tingling as you move faster against him. Your thighs begin to burn but you push through that. Yunho watches as you move, his free hand moving down your chest and pushing your shirt up and above your breasts so he can see more of you as you work for your orgasm. “You puttin’ on a show for me now?!” He muses, his tongue sweeping over his bottom lip, before pulling it back into his teeth. “Look how fucking messy you are.” You couldn’t look down, he wasn’t speaking to you, he was just admiring you. The pool of arousal and his cum around the base of his cock as you begin to shake. He lets out a hoarse moan, his mouth falling open as he watches you sink onto his cock and glide against him. You start to shake as he pulls you close to him, his lips pressing into your chest, teeth coming out to nip at your flushed skin. “Let me help you.” He groans, his hands finding your hips, fingers digging back into your skin as he starts to move your body against him. Your hips rolling with the help from him, and then he’s lifting you just partially off him before slamming you back down on his cock. He repeats this a few times until you’re starting to cry, so close you can taste it. One of his hands finds you clit, already wet from your juices, his thumb easily rolls against it as you start to roll against his cock more. You clench around him, your hips jerking as you start to come undone. Whatever you’re saying, it’s not real words. Just a string of curses and whimpers as you gasp and melt into his hold on you. He keeps his thumb against your clit as you try to lift from him, his other hand holding you in place as his hips drive up and into you. It’s overstimulating but you feel his cock twitch again, another orgasm of his own pouring out of him as you tremble. The warmth sends you over the edge as your eyes clench shut and you sob as he keeps driving his cum into you.
He loosens his hold as you tremble and whimper his arms bringing you closer to him. He stays inside you, and holds you close to his chest as you both try and catch your breath. His touch is softer, his hands move over your hair. Though you still shake with tremors you warm into him. The two of you lay together for a while in silence just breathing and taking the time to sort through your thoughts.
“Feeling better?” You ask after some time. He chuckles and nods.
“I am feeling better now that I’m home with you.” He hums, “Are you alright? Are you feeling… satisfied? Was I horrible?” He asks and you giggle, shaking your head.
“That was fun.” You smirk, “I’m good.”
“Good.” He smiles, his soft demeanor back as he runs his hand down your cheek thumb warming against your skin.
“Do you want to talk about work?” You ask, your hand smoothing over his wrinkled shirt and tie still hanging loose around his neck.
He pouts, shaking his head, “Not now… let’s clean up and eat dinner.”
“Okay, baby.” You smirk, kissing his lips, before he’s lifting you off him and ushering you to the shower.
⛩️Summary: during your nightly sweep of the rooms in the castle you for your pack, a loud noise allows you to experience
⛩️Pairing: Alpha! Jeong Yunho x Beta! Reader (f)
⛩️Rated: 18+, Minors/ageless blogs do not interact (you will be blocked)
⛩️Genre: smut
⛩️Au: abo, shifter, supernatural, historical, nobility
⛩️Trope: forbidden love, noble/servant
⛩️Warnings: rut, partial shifting, shredding a bed, petname (little one), yunhos a soft dom, sex with no protection, knotting, size kink, clit play, breast play, position changes, scent references, Wolf dominance play, cervix kisses, rough sex, soft sex, praise kink, begging, dom aftercare, hand kink, belly swell from being filled with cum (?)
⛩️Word count: 2,578
⛩️Author's Note: was reading some abo and had the itch to write some myself. I don't control this muse okay, they control me
⛩️Divider by @cursed-carmine
You are doing your evening rounds of cleaning when you hear a crash coming from one of the major suites. Knocking politely, you open the door to make sure everything is alright in the room you hear the abrupt noise from.
Immediately your olfactory senses are overloaded with a strong smell of dark chocolate and sweet blood orange. Your eyes widen as you realize you’ve just stumbled into an Alpha going into rut.
“My lord, my apologies, I will go send for an Omega for you.” You curtsy without raising your head.
There were few rules in this castle, in this pack you belonged to. As a Beta, you knew how to survive, and one of them was to never let an Alpha believe you’re challenging them, and that involved not meeting their gaze.
“Wa-wait…” Panting fills the air as you keep your eyes on the floor. Your name is whimpered and you can’t help but look up.
Lord Jeong, known as Yunho to his friends, Baron of the Ghost district, shreds his bed with his partially shifted claws.
“My lord,” you wait for him to further instruct you. Perhaps he’d prefer to go hunting to work through his rut. Not every Alpha wanted to fuck through it. Violence came easily to an Alpha.
“You clean my rooms, don’t you?” Yunho says in a strained voice. He wobbles to his feet. He’s sweating profusely.
“My lord, I do my best to keep my smell off of everything, please allow me to leave you to this.” You begin to tremble. Yunho had a quiet rage that you feared over the louder version of Lord Park.
“You mistake my intent,” Yunho clarifies. “I recognize your smell.”
You rub your lips together. “I do use the soap that is given to all Betas. My apologies, I will do better.”
Yunho shakes his head, rubbing his face and laughing softly. “It’s a good smell, little one.”
Your spine becomes ramrod straight. “My lord, this is improper. You know the rules.”
“I do,” Yunho’s raspy voice caresses places inside of you that no sound should be able to touch. “I also know that my word is law in my domain. And this room is my domain upon the commencement of a rut.”
“Of course, my lord, but--”
Yunho’s hand descends on your shoulder. “Do I repulse you, Beta?”
You shake your head quickly. “No, my lord, of course not.”
“Yunho,” The Baron corrects you, wishing to disburse all of the civilities. This did not bode well.
“Yunho, if I may be frank--”
“--if your boldness is followed by a declination to my unspoken proposal, I do wish you would lie sweetly to my face, little one.”
A whine builds in the back of your throat. In fact, you tilt your head, begging for forgiveness. “Please, my lor--Yunho. I mean no disrespect.”
Yunho’s hand travels up your shoulder and thumbs the scent gland on your neck. You may be a Beta and not secret the same way an Omega or Alpha does, but you are still a wolf. “Then don’t disrespect me,” Yunho murmurs, his tone low and with an edge of rasp.
You lower your head further. “Yes, my lord.”
Yunho’s hand fully cups your neck and he uses his thumb to push your head up so that you’ll meet his eyes. His eyes are hooded and his lips plump. “That’s much better. Now drop the ‘my lord’ part and you’ll be perfect for me.”
Your lips part in surprise. “Yunho, an Omega is much better suited for your rut. Shouldn’t you enjoy--”
You squeak as Yunho’s hand squeezes your throat in warning. “My wolf says that you’re what it wants, Beta.” Yunho leans in to whisper against the shell of your ear. “Shall I seduce you some more.” Yunho’s thumb moves with the bob of your Adam’s Apple. He chuckles darkly at the motion.
“No, Yunho,” You whisper back.
You’re surrounded by the bitter smell of dark chocolate and the sweet, tartness of a blood orange. It’s intoxicating, it’s invigorating, it’s capable of making you wet between your legs with a single, swift, sniff. Your wolf wants to posture itself, nose down, ass up. Your submission is apparent in your body language. You almost melt against the Alpha.
Yunho’s nostrils flair. His pupils are blown. And his lips descend upon yours. He’s licking at the seam of your lips and then chasing your tongue with his own. The slow, wet kisses exit you in the way that chased smooches in the nooks of the castle never had. He moans deeply into your mouth.
Your back finds the door as Yunho searches for a surface to push you against. His body is tight and ready, the rut hitting him with waves of lust. You’re surprised you’re not already naked at his insistence.
His other free hand pulls at the ties of the front of your dress and soon your breasts are spilling from your loose top. His hand cups your breast just from underneath, avoiding your nipple. Your skin pebbles from the temperature difference of the cool castle air and Yunho’s overheated palm.
“I need more,” Yunho murmurs into your kisses.
“Of course, my lord.”
Yunho growls at the formal sentence. His eyes sharpen down on you. “Little one, are you trying to distance yourself from me? Because I will be so deep inside of you, you won’t know where I end and you begin.”
“Old habits die hard, m--Yunho, I’m sorry. Please, give me a chance to--”
Yunho’s hand begins to lift your skirts quickly. His claws are gone, but that doesn’t take away from his long, nimble fingers that have no trouble finding the patch of hair between your legs. He strokes the strip almost reverently before sliding down further.
“You’re wet. Good.” Yunho says.
You whine at the statement. You feel your face getting heated. This was embarrassing. You weren’t usually this eager. Your body wasn’t made to take an Alpha in a rut; you weren’t an Omega with built in slickness.
Yunho goes back to kissing you, feasting on your lips like your oxygen is what he needs specifically. In the meantime, he wets his finger with your cum and slowly rubs your clit between two pads of his fingers.
He smirks against your lips as your hips cant towards his touches. “Do you want this, little one?”
It’s now you who are panting against Yunho’s lips. You adjust your stance, allowing for better access for Yunho’s fingers. His chest rumbles under your hand, an inbetween of a purr and a growl. “I asked you a question? Or are you already scent-drunk?”
Your head swims and you lick your lips. Your hands make a fist against Yunho’s flowing shirt. “Yunho, I--”
Yunho knocks his head against yours. “You can do it, Beta.”
“It feels good,” You whine.
Yunho’s eyes roll into the back of his head and he bites down on his lip. “I don’t think I can hold it back any longer.”
“I… I can take it.”
Yunho’s reserve crumbles at your words. He hefts you over his shoulder and then tosses you like a bag of potatoes onto his goose-down bed. His body covers yours immediately, pausing only a moment to remove his shirt over his head. Then he’s pressing down against you once again. The next is his pants, the buttons popping off at his quick insistentness and shoved down to his thighs.
You spread your legs, pulling your skirts up for Yunho but it seems like he does not want to take you face to face. He’s got a hand on your hip and flips you to your front. With your nose against his sheets, you realize you’re in the position your wolf had endeavored for.
Yunho’s hands tremble over the globes of your ass. “You smell so good, little one.”
You’d have liked to respond, eager to know what exactly you smell like for him, but the words are stolen from your throat as you feel Yunho’s cock rubbing against your wet folds. You push backwards instinctively and Yunho groans.
His voice wobbles as he swallows somewhat dryly. “I need to be in your tight heat. I need it so badly. The tight coil in my stomach demands it, Beta.”
You’re not sure if Yunho is asking or demanding, but you’re certain he is desperate for it. You reach between your legs and spread your outer lips invitingly. “It’s okay, my lord. I can do it.”
Yunho’s cockhead doesn’t flirt with your hole. He pushes into you without further adieu and you both moan loudly in unison. He’s thick and nothing could have prepared you for the stretch. Yunho does his best to allow shallow thrusts, working into you, but the grip on your hips tells you that he’s not going to be able to hold that for very long.
“Little one,” Yunho moans with a deep tone. “You’re squeezing me.”
“Nay, my lord, you’re the one that’s pushing against every inch of my walls,” You decline with a tight throat.
You whine as he pushes in even deeper, this time slipping further than just a little bit in one quick, fluid motion. He’s not at the end of you yet but with one long pull out, suddenly he’s kissing your cervix.
“M-my lord,” You cry out, hands searching for purchase.
Heat encompasses your back as Yunho covers you with his long body. His hands intertwine with your hands, squeezing you back.
“I’m here, little one, I’m here.” At this angle, Yunho isn’t able to pull back as much as he was before. His subtle thrusts, whoever, begin to rub against a part of you that makes you whine.
“Are you still holding back?” You whisper.
“You are so tiny beneath me,” Yunho purrs this time.
You whimper at the thought of Yunho enjoying how much smaller you are to him. “Still. I am confident I can take you. If you hold back too much with the rut, you know it will come back ten times harder. Please, my lord--”
“Beta, are you determined to push my buttons?” Yunho says in a hushed tone. “Say my name.”
“Yunho, Yunho please,” You beg. “Fuck me.”
With a growl, Yunho’s heat leaves your back slick with sweat. His hands grip your hips in a bruised promise and then he begins to thrust into you at a tempo that steals your breath away. You become non-verbal, unable to focus on anything other than the cock that was pushing against your inner walls.
“Beta, Beta, you’re so good for me.” Yunho sounds a little drunk himself, although surely his version was drunk in his own rut. Instinct overtaking sound thought. “This tight little heat of yours is taking care of me so well. Your soft curves make me feel like I should protect you. You’re making my wolf want to sing into the night.”
“Yu-yu-yu!” You’re not even able to finish his name, his thrusts making your words choppily fall from your lips. You whine instead, the only noise being able to encapsulate just how good you feel in this moment.
“My knot--oh please be a good girl and take my knot,” Yunho begs. “Can you? Can you take my knot?”
Your breathing isn’t coming out in measured steps any longer. “I want--I can--my lord, are you going to knot me?”
There’s a part of your brain, the one that is so squeezed against the side of your skull, with only room for the feeling of Yunho’s cock fucking you so damn good. You know that an Alpha should not be knotting you. He’s fully capable of filling you up with his seed--not that you’re very fruitful but still--it was not a celebrated pup, one born from an Alpha and a Beta.
“It’s perfect for you, I promise. It’ll make you feel so good,” Yunho whines.
You feel the starting of his swelling knot at your entrance as Yunho somehow finds even more room inside of you. “Yu-Yunho, are you sure?”
“Please take my knot, little one. I wanna hear your breathy whine when it stretches you,” Yunho whispers almost reverently into the air, like knotting was sacred to him.
You can’t quite say no to that. You can refuse it, certainly, but your lower body tightens at the temptation. You’ve never felt a knot before but you’ve overheard an Omega or two gossiping about the ones they’ve taken with sweet sighs.
“Please,” You acquiesce and Yunho moans in response.
“It’ll be so good for you,” Yunho insists. “My knot will treat you so well.”
At that point, Yunho’s flipping you to your back. Being face to face with him is a whole other scenario. His hair is simply plastered to his head. His ears and cheeks and chest are red with his heat and pleasure. He won’t stop biting down on his plush lips. You didn’t even realize that the Alpha hadn't even removed himself from inside of you, slyly keeping you locked down on his cock as he switched positions.
“I want to see your face when you take it,” Yunho admits. “We’ll be locked together for hours.”
You nod almost imperceptively. “Okay.”
With Yunho’s large hands palm down on your thighs, he puts his all into helping you take his knot. It swells to a size that makes you moan again. Each measured thrust has it pushing against your walls, further and further. The play against that good spot inside of you has you wondering what exactly you’re in for. You take it inch by slow inch, until suddenly it pops inside of you.
You scream with pleasure, as the pressure of the knot against your spongey spot sends you over the moon. You come and come, and whine, and come some more. Your walls tease and tempt Yunho and with a loud, lusty groan, the Alpha spills himself inside of you. Even with the plug, the amount of cum is a lot. You both watch in confusion and wonder as your belly swells briefly, for the cum has nowhere to spill out.
The tip of Yunho’s fingers tentatively explore the bump. “You took me so well, little one. Look at how you swell with my seed.”
You squirm slightly. “It’s--”
Yunho’s panting above you, slowly coming down from his high. His rut isn’t over--one orgasm wasn’t going to satisfy it--but in between waves, his eyebrows furrow in concern.
“Yo’ure not hurt, are you?”
You send him a tired smile. “No, my lord.”
Yunho pushes his lips out. “Still?”
“Yunho,” You say softly. “When you wake up tomorrow, you shouldn’t feel guilty.”
“No?” Yunho wonders somewhat hesitantly.
“No,” You shake your head. “Will you sleep now?”
Yunho covers a yawn at your prompting. “I am a little worn around the edges.”
The large Alpha slouches against your body, covering you completely, as if filling you wasn’t enough. He smacks his lips tiredly and tucks his face into the crook of your neck. His lips briefly kiss your scent gland before murmuring something about you smelling like air-dried laundry on a sunny day.
You rub his back soothingly. It might be an hour or two before his knot would decrease but his cock would be ready for round two. Your body may not be built for handling a rut but you’d do your best. For Yunho’s sake. It made your stomach flutter at keeping Yunho pleased.
tags: dark fic, stalker!yunho, cnc/dub con, knife play, voyeurism??, overstim, power imbalance, creampie, degradation, fear play?, reader is now captive?
a week of work and im not completely happy with it >_< but psycho yunho is here!
you never thought yunho was anything other than safe. just the tall neighbor with a pretty smile that made the hallway feel warmer every time you passed by.
he carried your grocery bags up three flights of stairs when the elevator broke, brought you coffee whenever you worked late, smiles at you whenever you bump into each other.
tonight, the power in your apartment went out for the third time this month, forcing you to text him if you could come over because he told you he had a backup generator in a casual chat.
his reply came almost too fast, telling you to come over and to bring your laptop so you could work.
he opened the door, wearing just a black tee and gray sweatpants that slung low on his hips, the waistband of his boxers slightly visible. his hair is messy, a few strands falling over his forehead and into his eyes.
“hey.. sorry about the outage again. building’s falling apart, huh?” he says softly, hand settling at the small of your back as he guides you inside.
you settle onto his couch, laptop open on your knees, the screen illuminating your face. yunho brings a glass of water and sits across from you, starting up small talk as you work.
eventually, your bladder tugs at you and you ask for the bathroom.
“down the hall,” he murmurs, voice soft, “first door on the right for my bathroom, but the guest room is the third door down if you want more space.. take your time, no rush,” he smiles, pointing toward the hall.
you walked down the hall, counting the doors in the dim light, skipping over the first door and kept going to the third, opening the one on the left accidentally, assuming it was the bathroom he meant.
the wood door creaked as you pushed it open, your eyes falls on four screens illuminating the small office. live feeds of your entire apartment: the couch in your living room, a view from the bookshelf in your bedroom, your kitchen counter where last night’s dishes still sat.
photos everywhere, printed on expensive photo paper and taped edge to edge on the walls. paparazzi-esque photos of you leaving work, on the subway, asleep in bed: all with dates and times in neat black ink.
there was a corkboard with your schedule pinned in it: your shifts at work highlighted in yellow, the times you went on walks in the morning, when you took out your trash.
a small shelf held things you thought you had lost months ago: your spare apartment key, a pair of earrings that vanished from your nightstand, and a black pair of panties you swore the dryer ate.
your stomach dropped hard, a cold wash spreading through your chest. you back up, the floorboards creaking under your feet, sounding like a gunshot in your ears.
suddenly you feel yunho’s hand close around your wrist, the grip firm enough to bruise, causing you to spin quickly.
he blocked the doorway completely, his shoulders relaxed and face calm like he’s been waiting for this moment for months, tension falling from his jaw the second your eyes meet his.
“i was wondering how long it would take,” he whispers, a small smile playing on his lips. you try to yank your arm free, but he just steps in the room with you, the door locking shut behind him.
“yunho- what the fuck is this? i was looking for the bathroom-”
he tilts his head, a soft smile playing on his lips. “wrong door, honest mistake. but you’ve seen all of it, so there’s no point in pretending anymore,” he murmurs as he reaches past your shoulder, flipping a switch on the wall. the monitors became brighter, angles of your apartment in real time staring back at you.
“i’ve been keeping you safe. remember that guy from the bar who wouldn’t take no for an answer? he won’t bother you again. i made sure of that, personally,” he rants as he steps closer, the cold wall pressing against your spine.
“you’re sick, yunho. let me leave, right now!” you snap as he crowds your space.
his fingers brush your jaw gently, thumb tracing the line of bone before pressing in hard, rough enough to bruise in the shape of his fingerprints. “sick? i call it dedicated. months of watching and waiting to make sure no one else got too close.. and here you are, in my space, seeing everything i’ve built for us,” he whispers as his hand slides down to your throat, fingers resting against your pulse point, the veins jumping under his touch, “you’re not leaving. not tonight, not ever. you belong here now.”
you try to duck past him, but he just catches your shoulder and spins you against the desk, the edge digging into your hips. his body is solid and warm against yours, chest rising steadily as his hips trap you completely.
“don’t,” he says quietly, “you already know too much. running now would just make a mess, and we don’t want that, do we?”
his free hand opens the drawer beside you, the knife he pulls out glinting in the light of the monitors. he lifts it between you, turning it slowly so the light slides along the metal.
“been thinking about this moment for a long time,” he murmurs, eyes darkening. “how your eyes would widen like that, how your breath would catch right here,” his thumb presses against the side of your throat, feeling your pulse hammer under his fingers, “pretty. so fucking pretty when you’re scared.” you swallow hard as he hovers the blade near your collarbone, the cool metal raising goosebumps on your skin.
“take it off,” he says flatly, eyes locked on you, “every piece, or i’ll do it for you, and i won’t be careful.”
your fingers shake as you try to unbutton your shirt, so yunho hooks the tip of the knife under the first button of your shirt, the metal kissing your skin as he popped the button off.
the cool air hit your chest as he flicked every button off, tracing the knife against your bra, the cold material making your nipples tighten and peak against the thin fabric.
“look at you,” he says, voice dropping lower as his polite mask slips completely. “already shaking and i haven’t even touched you.. ready for someone to finally own you completely?” he questions as he slides the blade under the strap of your bra, the fabric snaps, letting the cups fall to expose you fully.
his hand shoves into the front of your pants, fingers pushing past the waistband to find you slick and hot. yunho laughs darkly, the vibrations traveling up the column of your neck. “of course you’re wet.. like all those nights i watched you touch yourself… moaning into your pillow while thinking about me,” he murmurs as he pushes two fingers inside you, crooking them hard.
you gasp hard, the knife at the base of your throat biting into your skin as the tip poked against your racing pulse. yunho works you open, thumb circling your clit roughly to build up the pressure quickly.
he holds you up with his body against the desk, hips pinning yours enough that you can feel the hard line of his cock pressing through his sweatpants. "that's it.. fuck my fingers like the desperate little slut you've always been for me.. been waiting months to feel this tight little cunt flutter around my fingers," yunho rambles, working you open with rough strokes.
you try to push at his chest, palms flat against his shirt, but yunho just laughs at you as he adds a third finger, stretching you to your limit. your hips jerk against his fingers despite yourself, tears pricking your eyes as you try to chase the friction.
he pulls his fingers free, leaving you clenching around nothing as he wipes them across your stomach, smearing your own wetness across your skin.
"on the desk, now. legs spread."
you don't move fast enough for him, causing yunho to grip your hips hard, sitting you on the edge of the desk, the wood biting into the back of your thighs. he shoves your legs apart, bringing the knife to your inner thighs and tracing gently.
you feel the edge kiss the seam of your pants, the fabric giving way with a soft rip, tearing a hole right in the middle. he peels the ruined material down with the blade, leaving everything dangling off one ankle, letting the cool air hit your exposed pussy.
yunho's cock is pulled out, hard and flushed, the tip of him leaking steadily. he strokes himself once before he lines up, the blunt head nudging your entrance before he pushes in all the way to the hilt.
you cry out, causing yunho to press the knife into the side of your neck as he begins moving, hips snapping against yours in a brutal rhythm. each thrust punches the air from your lungs, his cock dragging against the spot inside you that makes you see stars.
"mine," he growls against your ear, teeth grazing your lobe. "say it. tell me who this pussy belongs to."
you're too overwhelmed to answer as he continues to hit that spot that makes your vision blur and yunho slams in harder, the tip of the knife pressing into your neck enough to sting. "say it or i start carving my name right here on your pretty throat.. everyone will see who owns you," yunho snaps, dragging the knife over your pulse point.
"y-yours," you choke out, voice cracking.
"louder," he growls as he angles hips to abuse that sensitive spot inside you, "tell me who owns this tight little pussy. who's been watching it for months."
"yours, yunho. f-fuck- it's yours-!" you whimper, thighs shaking around his hips.
yunho fucks you like he hates you, every thrust punishing you for how long you made him wait for this. one hand grips your hip hard enough to leave bruises while the other keeps the knife steady at your throat, the tip scratching against your skin with each thrust.
you cum hard around him, clenching tight as your walls flutter and squeeze around his cock, a broken moan falling from your lips. tears slip down your cheeks as he pounds you through it, your nails digging into his shoulders, the fabric bunching under your fingers.
"again," he orders, a groan vibrating through his chest. "cum again while i'm still buried inside you. show me how much you need this even when you're scared shitless."
your body obeys him, the second orgasm ripping through you as your vision whites out completely, pussy spasming around his thick length. yunho keeps thrusting through it, hips stuttering as his pace turns erratic.
"that's my good girl. been mine since the first time i saw you," he mutters as he buries himself deep inside you. yunho cums hard, thick ropes filling you until it leaks around his cock, dripping down your thigh and onto the desk.
yunho stays buried inside, letting his cock twitch before he pulls out slowly, letting the cum spill out freely. he lowers the knife, letting it fall onto the desk as his kisses your forehead softly.
"you can clean yourself up later," yunho says calmly, a polite smile playing on his lips again. "you're staying here tonight. and tomorrow night. and every night after this. understood?"
you nod, tears pricking your eyes as your legs tremble. yunho brushes a strand of hair from your face gently, thumb wiping a tear from your cheek. "welcome home, baby."
.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ✦ ‧₊˚ ⋅ thinking about it - mafia boss!wooyoung and casual intimacy
mafia boss wooyoung who lets you put your hands all over him whenever you want, despite the value he puts into his intimidating appearance.
his fingers drum against the wood of the table, pale and covered in ink.
a few of his men were halfway through a report, a shipping route gone down, another rival captured. its nothing urgent, though it feels as though its been dragging on forever. you were starting to see the twitching in his jaw, despite how deathly still he seemed to sit through these meetings.
you didn't have much reason to be here either. but wooyoung would let you sit in sometimes, something he doesn't try to justify to anyone. he says its good practice for if he ever dies, a joke you have long since told him you don't find funny.
but today you're here, and today its taking far too long.
you can already feel it wearing you down. you pick at your nails for a solid ten minutes, but that isn't enough. at some point, your leg is bouncing unconsciously under the table, a rather terrible combo as you continue to pick at your nails.
you didn't think he'd notice it. infact, he gave no indication that he did, save for the tapping of his finger slowing.
the room is rather silent, and you stop the anxious movements for a moment, lifting to meet wooyoungs gaze. the room is awkward, his men stare at each other for answers, but everyone is smart enough to not say anything.
"are you done yet?"
his voice is flat when he's tired. a little irate, if you didn't know him well. his eyes flicked back and forth between your hand and your leg, a faint exhale leaving through his mouth.
he grabs at your hands, surprisingly warm, closing around the one you'd been picking at.
"can't even sit still for an hour." he grumbles under his breath, signaling for his men to continue. which they do, with the most bizarre looks of confusion and acceptance on their faces.
how awkward it must be for those poor men, you think.
one glances up to gauge the situation, eyes dropping as soon as he meets yours. the other is flipping through his notes as if he hasn't ever seen them before. the rest avoid eye contact, staring at random places when you look their way.
wooyoung is barely interested, running a thumb over your caged hand. he was enjoying it more than he showed.
you stop fidgeting.
instead you weasel out of his grip, grabbing his hand back. you can move your thumb to see the ink better, tracing the ones on his fingers all the way up. you follow it the ink trail to his wrist. he runs his own thumb over your fingers, squeezing to get a reaction.
"thats a better distraction, isn't it?" he mutters, only barely allowing you to catch it.
you do.
mafia boss wooyoung who puts anything he brings onto you immediately, like a dragon hoarding its treasures somewhere safe. somewhere familiar.
wooyoung has a habit of snatching things without realizing, handing off things to you as if expecting you to have any use for them.
it started small, keys, pens, a note, a lighter. he'll come in as he pleases, placing it in your hands to do with as you please. its cute, the kind of junk drawer you have now, full of things he's given you without explanation.
at some point, it stops being the smaller things though.
no, now hes slipping jewelry into your grasp.
you eye his items, and now they're yours to keep for eternity. thats just the way he is.
you eye a chain of his, and suddenly its wrapped around your wrist, wooyoung talking about how you can get it made into a bracelet and how someone owes him a favor, as you and his other men watch him rattle on.
then its one of his lucky cufflinks, claiming he lost the other half as he slips something shiny into his pocket, briefly glinting in the light. you tried to leave it in his night chest but you only find it in your hands the next morning, grip on it so tight you could see the indent of the pattern.
then its a copy of his signet. as much as he would've liked giving you the original signet, his cabinet was rather against it, offering to make, what was in his opinion, a rather subpar copy (something he was not very pleased by).
that too ends up in your hands. you joke he should give you the keys to the city at this point since he's so in love. he seems to consider it seriously for a moment.
you can hear one of his men choke up as he asks you with all the seriousness in the world: "which one?"
mafia boss!wooyoung whos always ready to indulge you in your interests, regardless of whether or not he finds them interesting.
there is not a single word registering in his brain, but he's still watching as you explain something about your favorite cars, pulling up your photos and showing him photos from what felt like years ago.
you're prattling off facts about a supercar you'd seen a couple of weeks ago when he shushes you, dead serious look on your face. for a moment, you think you've done something wrong. but then he grins.
"i remember you telling me about that one car... the valkyrie right?"
you blink.
"i- i think yeah?" by then he's not even listening to you, tapping away on his phone for a brief couple moments. when he's done, he sets it face down, face surprisingly nonchalant as he starts to talk to you.
"say, you wanna go to a car meet again? i know you loved them, and i got an invite from mingi pretty recently, he's having his crew race on the underground street circuits. was thinking of turning it down but if you like it..."
and that isn't even the biggest surprise.
the biggest surprise comes three weeks later, in the form of wooyoung guiding you around his home in a blindfold.
you hit your legs in multiple places, grumbling about bruising but he hushes you, giddiness apparent in his voice. you can almost imagine the look on his face as he leads you into what you know for a fact is the garage, by the sound that reverberates as he closes the door.
"are you ready?" you don't know what to say, so you just nod.
he drops your hand, walking behind you to pull off the blindfold.
in front of you is sitting a aston martin valkyrie. or what you'd assume to be an aston martin valkyrie. you're too shocked to say anything.
"woo, is this-" you choke out, stopping as you turn to him, rubbing your eyes. he's not even looking at the car. he's watching your face, as you've always seen him do.
"the car you kept talking about?" he shrugged, too casually for someone who had a million dollar car right in front of him. you keep blinking, because somewhere in there you think there is a joke being made.
"this doesn't make sense."
"i think it does." he says, getting closer to you.
"no no, listen to me." you turn to him, dead serious. "this isn't the type of car you can just call a dealership up for. they only produced them until 2024. there were only 275." your voice breaks on the number, bewildered.
he's grinning even wider now, almost as if begging you to ask him how he accomplished such a feat.
"wooyoung-" you started, but he held up a hand.
"i just had to call in some favors... well. a lot of favors from people who owed me big time. it wasn't that huge of a deal."
"you can't just do that!"
"i absolutely can."
you look at him.
he looks at the car, then you.
he's dead serious.
"so you just got your hands on the rarest hyper car in the world," you say, turning to him, "because i wouldn't shut up about it?"
he tilts his head head, making a face.
"that sounds a bit excessive?"
"because it is!"
"mhm." he's rolling his eyes at your shock. "you weren't being ungrateful when you saw it."
but you're back to staring down the car when you hear a jingle, turning your head in the direction of the sound.
theres keys dangling from his fingers. his expression is rather soft as he saunters up to you, hand on your lower back as he pushes you towards the car.
"c'mon." he huffs, although you can tell he's anything but annoyed. you stop right in front of the door, and thats when he takes your own hand, pressing the keys into them.
you want to give them back, but you seem to lose your voice when he curls your fingers around them.
"take them. 's not every day you get a car like that, right?" even when you don't respond, he presses a kiss to the side of your forehead, rubbing your shoulder.
"you're overthinking it. go and enjoy your car. someone'll be down in a bit to stay with you or even drive you, if you want that."
mafia boss!wooyoung who never wants to let you be far from him. he would do anything for your attention.
he's always hovering. it's kind of been a thing.
at first it was subtle, showing up to your job with food, flowers being sent, meeting you at your favorite coffee shop.
then you moved in with him.
that's when it got... odd.
if you were moving, he was somehow always near you. he'd follow you around the halls, like a lost puppy. if you were hiding in the library, he'd always find a spot next to you. hell even if you were hiding, he'd find a way to get into the spot, just wanting to be near you.
it was infuriatingly sweet how he'd have everything ready for you, even if it was a bit weird. you let him in for that exact reason.
thats why you notice when its too quiet. he's a creature of habit, and if he's not haunting the hall, then his voice is. but you can't seem to hear that today either.
you're sure you're just imagining it, that he's probably gotten better at hiding. maybe he was at another outing and he just forgot to tell you. you even stopped three or four times, and nothing came of it.
no wooyoung. your stomach tightened at the idea.
you check the places he's usually at out of habit. his library, office, living room are all empty.
the last place you could think of was his bedroom.
you squint when you open the door.
his room is dark, curtains closed, with no light but from what was coming in through the windows in the hall.
"wooyoung? what are you..."
"mmh. headache." his voice sounds exhausted, drained in a way that makes you pause for a moment.
you weren't naive, but you knew from experience headaches could be awful. closing the door behind you, you inched closer to his bedside, confused on what exactly was going on
"since when did it start?" you questioned hesitantly, standing over the side.
"its been here a while." he says after a brief pausing, softly moaning as he uncovered his head to look at you. "the lights were hurting my eyes."
even with the look of pain on his face, you could still see the look in his eyes, as if he was looking for something from you.
"i was looking for you." you mutter in response. "shoulda told me if something was going on."
"were you?" he hummed.
you raised an eyebrow. "i was... is there something i did or..?"
"what? no, never." he replied a little too quickly, earning a huff from you as you got closer to the edge of the bed to pull the blanket off him.
in hindsight, not your smartest idea.
he moves rather fast for a supposedly sick man. his hands grab around your waist, yanking you into bed before you can even say anything.
it's over before you can say anything about it, head settled against your shoulder, arms hugging your waist like he was hugging you. he's comfortable. too comfortable for a man with a headache.
"wooyoung-" you start, and he whines. actually whines like a child being told no. "but my head hurts."
"you said you have a headache."
"well. maybe i did."
"you still do?"
"not anymore."
you blink once. twice. you're still trying to process it when he lets out a happy little sigh, almost as if he's pleased with himself.
"you're quite proud of this, aren't you?" he doesn't say anything, just lazily leaving kisses on your neck. he thought he could distract you.
"you still came back to me. so it worked." his eyes flick to your face for a moment, but its not in a harsh or unforgiving way.
he's being soft about it.
you sigh.
"you're ridiculous."
"i know."
"you also have a meeting with your friends at 6."
"thats gonna get rescheduled anyways."
a/n: first full hc fic thing yipe! keep in mind i do not condone the illegal actions and romanticization of the mafia and any way the ateez memebers are portrayed is not indicative of their true nature!
Summary: Wooyoung is your dealer, you were only meant to pick up the goods but you got more than what you signed up for.
Pairing: Dom!Wooyoung x Fem!reader x Dom!San x Dom!Mingi
Warnings: Drug dealer woosanmin 18+ MDNI, smut, slowburn. porn, foursome, nasty. drug use, cheating, blowjob, menace wooyoung , many more. just proceed at your own risk lol THIS IS PURE FILTH WRITTEN DURING EASTER SUNDAY.
Word count: 7,106 k. (fuck im sorry)
A/N: not proof read but I really just wanted to get this out there. might've switched between 'her' and 'you' im too used to 3rd pov.
The Seoul night air was thick with humidity, clinging to your skin like a second layer as you make your way down the narrow, dimly lit alley. This was the part of the city that thrived in the shadows, a place where the neon from the main streets bled into the murky puddles and the only sounds were the distant thrum of bass from the nearby club.
You knocked on the unmarked steel door, the sound echoing slightly. It was a rhythm you knew by heart. Three short taps, a pause then one more. A moment later, the lock clicked, and the door swung open.
Wooyoung stood there, a silhouette framed by the warm, low light of his apartment. He was shirtless, wearing only a pair loose-fitting grey sweats that hung dangerously low.
His hair was damp like he just stepped out of the shower, dark strands falling into his eyes. A silver chain rested against his collar bone. and the smell of wood and trouble clinging onto his skin.
You were greeted by a stoic face before changing it into a shit eating grin.
"you're late" Wooyoung smiled, voice sweet it was sickening. You leaned one shoulder against the door frame, face contorted in annoyance. "not like you got anything important to do."
A beat passed between you two. The bass from somewhere deeper in the building pulsed faintly through the walls, slow and deliberate, like a heartbeat. He stepped aside without a word, you slipped past him.
The apartment was dim, lit by the faint LED strip under his couch. His apartment reeked of za and a mixture of something warm- vanilla, maybe. Familiar. Intimate. a mistake waiting to happen.
The door shut behind you with a soft click.
Wooyoung didn't move closer right away. Instead, he leaned back against it. His arms folded loosely across his chest as he watches you walk further inside like you owned the place. His gaze dragged over your figure, slow and almost assessing.
"Could've sworn that I just gave you a cue last week." he said quietly.
You turned with your brow lifted. "I ran out quick"
That earned the fainted twitch at the corner of his mouth.
Wooyoung pushed off the door, walking towards the dining table set in the middle of his apartment. he glanced over his shoulder as he opened the box. Inside, nestled in velvet lining, were several neat little baggies of well preserved buds. "You gotta slow down with this baby" baby.
"I'm starting to think that you just want to see me" He turned around, leaning against the table after he retrieved her usual order. Your face contorted again in annoyance, choosing to not entertain his little games.
"But you know" He began, instead of handing the bag to her. His tone shifted slightly. "You're my best customer, always making sure I'm fed, never any trouble. And I believe in rewarding loyalty."
He set her usual baggie aside and reached deeper into the box, pulling out a smaller, unmarked one filled with tightly packed, dark green buds dusted with crystalline sheen.
"New arrival" He said, holding it up. " 'Starlight' is stronger than what you usually get. Smooth as fuck though, with a little kick to it. I want you to try it. On the house"
You raised a brow in surprise. "Free? Are you feeling generous tonight Woo?"
A small hum escapes from his lips. "Always, when it comes to you" He replied, his smirk returning. "But you gotta try it with me, right now"
Before you could say anything, he was already moving to grab his rolling tray, papers and a grinder. Your heart fluttered in your chest, a mix of excitement and nervousness. You've been alone with him countless times, but for some reason. This felt different.
Wooyoung worked with a focused precision, his long fingers skillfully breaking apart the fragrant buds, grinding them to the perfect consistency. You couldn't tear your eyes away from his hands—the way they moved, the veins that stood out against his skin. God you needed to leave as soon as possible.
He caught you staring, and his lips curved into a slow, knowing smile. "Like what you see?" he teased, not looking up from his task. You scowled and whipped your head to the other direction. "fuck off woo" You breathed out. He chuckled.
"Alright try this" He finished rolling the joint with practiced ease, twisting the end perfectly. He brought it to his lips, eyes locking with yours as he lit it, the flame casting a warm glow on his features. He took a slow, deep drag, holding the smoke in his lungs before exhaling a plume that curled and dissipated into the air.
then, he held it out to you. "Try it"
You leaned forward, your fingers brushing against his as you took the joint from him. The contact was dangerous, electric, and a jolt of awareness that shot through you. You brought it up to your own lips, mimicking his slow drag, the smoke filling your lungs with a sweet potent haze.
As you exhaled, you felt it — a heady rush that your limbs feel heavy and your senses sharpen. The world seemed to slow down, the low hum of the city outside fading into a distant buzz. Wooyoung took the joint back, your fingers brushing again, and this time, his touch lingered.
You both passed it back and forth in silence, the only sounds the soft crackle of burning paper and your quiet breathing. The tension in the room grew thick, palpable , a living thing that coiled in the space between the two of you. Your skin tingled, pulse thrumming in your ears. You could feel Wooyoung's gaze on you, heavy and intent, and when you finally met his eyes, you saw something dark and hungry but he masked it in his boyish grin.
He knew. He knew exactly what it was doing to you, and he was enjoying every second of it. The teasing glances, the subtle brushes of his fingers, the low rumble of his voice — it was all a carefully orchestrated game, and you were willing to play.
"Feeling it?" he asked, his voice husky, the words hanging in the air between the two of you.
You nodded, your throat suddenly dry. "Yeah."
"Good" he murmured, leaning back against the couch with eyes on you.
Then, he leaned in closer.
You could feel the heat of him, the slow rise and fall of his chest almost brushing your shoulder. The joint burned low between his fingers, forgotten for a moment as his attention settled entirely on you.
"Your pupils are blown" he laughs lowly, tilting his head slightly to get a better look at your face. "hits fast dont it?"
You swallowed at the proximity, backing away a little. "Y-yeah.. You said it was stronger"
He hummed softly, amused. "Sure did."
he leaned back against the couch again, the low lighting carved shadows along his torso, tracing the defined lines of his abdomen, the V-line dipping beneath the waistband of his sweats. His knees brushed against yours. Too close! need to leave now!
He took another slow drag, eyes never leaving your face this time, then he reached forward. Not with the joint.
With his free hand.
His knuckles brushed lightly along your jaw, tilting your chin upward just enough to hold your gaze. The touch wasn't forceful. It didn't need to be.
"I finally got to smoke with you, been waiting on when you're gonna let me roll for you" He grins.
Your breath felt heavier in your lungs, the room softer around the edges. "You never give free shits before so."
His thumb slid just barely under your chin, warm and steady.
"Well, you never stayed this long before" his voice was slow. A slow smile curved his lips.
You hum softly, then shaking his hold off you.
The air between the two of you felt charged, heavy with smoke and something far more dangerous and risky.
"You're okay. I got you. just relax" Wooyoung exhaled slowly through his nose, eyes dropping.
The high was settling into your bones, a warm, syrupy feeling that made the plush couch feel like it was swallowing you whole. You shifted, the fabric of your dress whispering against your skin. Everything was heightened now, the low thrum of the bass from a distant club.
The silence was killing you.
"So," You spoke, voice a little softer than you intended. "What is this again? Starlight?"
"mm," Wooyoung hummed, taking another slow dragged from the joint that's almost finished. He passed it back to you, fingers deliberately brushing against her palms. "New strain, Supposed to be special"
Your brows rose, feeling a bold curiosity fueled by the haze in your mind. "Special how? what's the side effects?"
Wooyoung leaned back, spreading his arms across the back of the couch. A slow, wicked grin spread across his face. Instead of answering, he picked up his phone next to him, his thumb swiping across the screen. "Let's see what the pot heads says"
he squinted at the bright screen, his expression unreadable for a moment. Then, he let out a low chuckle, a sound was both amused and dangerous. He looked up from his phone, his eyes locking directly at you. The air crackled.
"Well, first on the list is doozy. check." He said, his voice dropping to that gravelly register that made your thighs clench. "Next is... and the primary effect is.. aroused."
The word hung between the two of you, stark and undeniable. Your breath hitched. A hot flushed crept up your neck, blooming in your cheeks. You blamed the weed, of course its the weed! but you knew it was more than that. It was him. It was the way that he's looking at you, like he knew every dirty thought tracing through your head.
"...Right" You managed, trying for nonchalance and failing miserably. You need a distraction until this shit wears off. Anything to break the intensity of his gaze. You reached out for the remote resting next to the ash tray. Your fingers fumbled with it as you pointed it at the massive , black screen mounted on the wall. You pressed the button.
The screen flickered to life, but it didn't return to a streaming service menu. It resumed exactly where it had left off. On the screen, a woman with her head thrown back in ecstasy was being thoroughly pleasure by a man whose face was mostly buried between her legs. The sound were vivid, slick and unapologetic. A litany of breathy moans and dirty talk filled the stunned silence of the room.
You froze, the remote clutched in your hand like a lifeline. Your face burned with a humiliation so acute it was almost arousing. "Oh my god, I—"
Wooyoung's laughter cut her off. It wasn't mocking; it was deep, genuine and completely unbothered. He didn't even flinch.
"I was watching porn before you arrived, sorry" He admitted with a casual shrug, as if he'd just confessed to leaving a dish in the sink. He leaned forward, propping his elbows on his knees, his gaze flicking from the screen to your mortified expression. A slow smile played on his lips before taking the remote from your hands. He pressed play before you could say anything.
"Woo! you're fucking insane" Your mouth hang open as your eyes naturally drifted to the screen. You should've stood up and left but he sank deeper into the couch next to you, close enough that you could feel the warmth radiating from his skin.
For a while, You two just watched in silence. The sounds from the TV filled the space, a rhythmic, explicit soundtrack to the tension coiling tighter and tighter between the two of you. You tried to keep your eyes glued to the screen or your phone but you were achingly aware of him beside you.
Then, to the corner of your eye, you saw it. A subtle movement. Wooyoung has shifted, slouching down into the cushions. He wasn't touching himself. Not overtly. But his hand had come to rest on his upper thigh, his long fingers languidly tracing the thick, hard line of his erection straining against the fabric of his sweats. He wasn't hiding it. He wasn't being aggressive. He was just... existing in his arousal, letting it sit there, a silent, powerful invitation. and that made it more dangerous.
Your own body responded instantly. A wave of liquid heat pooled low in your belly, your clit pulsing in time with the moans from the television. You squeezed your thighs together, a futile attempt to alleviate the sudden, desperate ache. You tried not to look, you wanted to leave but your body was heavy. You really tried but your eyes kept betraying you, darting back to the slow teasing circle his thumb was making, so close to where she suddenly, desperately wanted him to touch.
Wooyoung knew. Of course he fucking knew. He could probably smell your arousal from where he is. He let out a soft hum, a sound of deep satisfaction, and finally turned to look at you, his eyes dark and heavy-lidded.
"See?" he whispered, his voice low.
"Told you it was special"
The porn on the screen faded into distant, irrelevant hum. The only thing in your universe was the man next to you and the thick, pulsing tension that was making it hard to breathe. Your eyes were now glued to the prominent bulge straining against the soft grey cotton of his sweatpants. It was a blatant, confident display, and it was doing things to you that you couldn't control.
You felt his gaze on you , hot and heavy, but you couldn't meet it. You were too caught up in the sight, in the ache throbbing between your legs. Unconsciously, your thighs rubbed together, a desperate, silent plea for friction you knew he could only provide. A low chuckle rumbled in his chest; Got you.
He held out the last of the joint, the paper now short and singed. "Here, finish it" He murmured, his voice thick with smoke and satisfaction.
You took it, you shouldn't have. You should've left. You brought it to your lips, your eyes still fixed on his lap as you inhaled deeply. The smoke was potent, laced with an aphrodisiac quality that melted the last of your inhibitions. It coursed through , a warm, permissive wave that told you to stop fighting, to just take what you wanted.
And what you wanted was right beside you.
As you exhaled a low, unsteady stream of smoke, your hand moved with a will of its own. It dropped from your lap to his thigh, the skin warm and firm beneath your touch. He didn't flinch, didn't move a muscle. He just let you explore, his body a silent, willing canvas.
Your fingers inched higher, tracing the seam of his sweats until they brushed against the hard, thick ridge of his cock. The fabric was soft, but beneath it, he was rigid steel. You curled your fingers, wrapping it around him through the pants. He was bigger than you imagined, thick and heavy in your grasp, and a jolt of pure unadulterated lust shot through you.
Wooyoung let out a soft hiss of air, his head falling back against the couch. He still didn't touch you, his hand resting loosely on his own thighs, offering you complete control. The power was intoxicating.
You tightened your grip, stroking him slowly through the fabric. The friction wasn't enough. It was a frustrating tease. You needed more. You needed to feel him. skin on skin.
Your fingers found the waistband of his sweats. With a soft decisive tug, you hooked your thumb under the elastic and pulled it down just enough. His cock sprang free, slapping heavily against his lower abdomen. The sight stole the air from your lungs. He was perfect— long, thick, and flushed a deep, angry pink, the tip already beaded with pearly precum.
The joint now forgotten, was crushed out in the ash tray. There was only one thing left to do.
Leaning over, you lowered your head. The scent of him, clean and masculine and uniquely Wooyoung, filled your senses. You stuck out your tongue, tracing a slow, deliberate circle around the head, lapping up the salt drop of precum. He tasted as good as he looked.
Wooyoung's sharp intake of breath was the only reaction you needed.
Then, you parted your lips and wrapped them around the head, sinking down slowly, taking him into the heat of your mouth. He groaned, a low guttural sound of pure pleasure that vibrated straight though you, settling deep in your core. You began to move, your tongue swirling, your slips sliding, taking him deeper with each pass, the television moans now a pathetic echo of the real thing happening on this couch.
The world has narrowed to the wet slide of your lips, the heavy weight of him on your tongue, and the deep rumbling groans he was letting out. You lost yourself in the rhythm, in the raw, primal act of pleasuring him. Every flick of your tongue, every hollowing of your cheeks, was met with a sharp intake of breath or a muttered curse from above. You were so focused, so consumed by the taste and feel of him, that you didn't notice the shift in the room's atmosphere.
Wooyoung, however, did. He was a creature of his own environment, always aware. And right now, his environment was about to be breached.
While you were occupied, his hand moved from his own thigh to yours. He didn't ask, didn't hesitate. He simply gripped the hem of your dress, the soft fabric a stark contrast to his rough, assertive touch, and pulled it up, baring your legs and the thin lace of your panties to the cool air. he didn't yank or tear; the motion was dominant but deliberate, claiming.
His fingers ghosted over the soaked fabric, and he chuckled, a low, dark sound of his triumph. "Fuck baby, You're dripping for me, aren't you?" He murmured, his voice a husky caress. He pressed the heel of his palm against your clothed core, the pressure a delicious torment that made you moan around his cock. He was in control, dictating the pleasure even though your mouth was around him.
Just as his fingers hooked the side of your panties, ready to grant you the pleasure you've been desperate to have, the front door clicked open.
You froze, your mouth still full of him. Panic, cold and sharp, cut through the haze of arousal. You tried to pull back, to scramble away, but Wooyoung's hand was suddenly firm on the back of your head, holding you in place. It wasn't a rough gesture, but a silent command: Don't move.
Two figures walked in, their laughter and casual conversation dying mid-sentence as they took in the scene. It was San and Mingi. Wooyoung's friends.
They stopped just inside the doorway. For a split second, there was a stunned silence. San's eyes widened slightly, a slow, appreciative smirk spreading across his face. Mingi just blinked, his gaze flicking from your flushed face, to Wooyoung's relaxed, dominant posture, to the very obvious act happening on the couch.
There was no shock, no outrage. Just mild surprise and amusement.
San was the first to speak, his voice casual as he shrugged off his jacket. "Well, that's fucking hot"
Mingi just snorted, shaking his head with a grin as he toed off his shoes.
They didn't stop and stare. They didn't gawk or make a scene. As if it were the most normal thing in the world to walk in on their friend getting head on the couch, they simply continued their path. They walk right past them, heading for the staircase that leads to the upper floor.
"Hey Woo" Mingi called over his shoulder as he started up the stairs. "Just grabbing Gedd's order. Don't mind us."
"Yeah," San added, following him up. "Carry on. Don't let us interrupt the ... this"
Their footsteps faded away, and then the sound of a door closing upstairs.
The silence that followed was deafening. You were mortified, your entire body rigid with embarrassment. But Wooyoung, still holding you gently but firmly, just tilted his head back and laughed. A real, deep, /pissed/ genuine laugh.
"Those dickheads..." he said, his voice vibrating through his chest and into your mouth. "Has zero fucking boundaries" He finally released his hold on your head, his fingers stroking through your hair softly. He looked down at you, his eyes dark with lust and something else— something like pride.
"Now.. where were we?"
The laughter died in Wooyoung's throat, replaced by a low growl of pure need. The interruption, far from breaking the spell, has only sharpened it, adding a dangerous, thrilling edge to the atmosphere. He looked down at you, your lips swollen and your eyes wide with a mixture of lingering shock and renewed hunger, and a slow dangerous smile spread across his face.
"get up" he commanded, his voice a husky whisper.
Before you could even process the order, he was already moving. His hands were on you, strong and sure, as he effortlessly flipped you over. You landed on your back on the soft plush cushions with a soft gasp, your dress still bunched around your waist. He hooked his fingers into the sides of your panties and with one fluid decisive motion, pulled them down your legs and tossed them aside.
Now you were completely exposed to him, your glistening cunt open and waiting. he didn't give her a moment to feel self conscious. he lowered his head, not giving any warning before he dove in.
The first touch of his tongue was electric. A broad , flat stroke against your slick folds that made your back arch off the couch. He wasn't gentle or tentative; he was ravenous. He ate you out like a man starved, his tongue swirling and probing, finding your clit with a sickening accuracy that made you see stars. He alternated between sucking the sensitive bundle of nerves and fucking his tongue deep inside you, his hands gripping your thighs, holding you open for his assault.
You were so lost, your fingers tangling in his hair, your hips rolling against his face as he drove you higher and higher. The sounds from the TV were gone, replaced by the wet , lewd sounds of his mouth on you and your own breathy moans.
You were so close, teetering on the edge, when you heard footsteps again.
Your eyes fluttered open, your hazy vision focusing on the figure descending. It was San. He has come back down. He stopped at the bottom of the stairs, his eyes fixed on the scene on the couch, on Wooyoung's head buried between your shaking thighs.
A fresh wave of heat, potent and dark, washed over you. This was wrong. This was filthy. And it was the hottest thing you have experienced.
San watched for a moment, his own arousal evident in the tight line of his jaw. he walked closer, his movements slow and deliberate, until he was standing right behind the couch. he didn't look at Wooyoung. He looked at you.
"Wooyoung" San's voice was low and rough that vibrated through the room. "You're gonna make her pass out before I get a turn"
Wooyoung lifted his head, his chin and mouth glistening with your arousal. He gave him a menacing grin, a feral possessive thing. 'Fuck off San"
"Just a taste" San bargained, his gaze still locked on you. His eyes were dark and intense, a silent question in their depths. "Come on, she looks so fucking delicious"
The decision wasn't Wooyoung's to make. It was yours. San was asking you. The power shifted back into your hands, and the thrill of it was immense. You looked from San's burning eyes to Wooyoung's challenging smirk. A part of you should've said no, but the weed, the lust and the sheer audacity of it all won.
You gave a slow nod, ashamed and embarrassed.
This was all the permission San needed. Wooyoung surprisingly didn't object. He just shifted to the side, making room. San knelt on the floor by the couch, leaning in. He didn't hesitate either, his head dipping back down.
And then it happened.
Two tongues, two sets of lips, working in tandem. It was a dizzying, overwhelming assault on your senses. Wooyoung was more aggressive, his movements focused and demanding as he lapped at your clit. San's was exploratory, his tongue delving, curling inside you, tasting you deeply. They share you, passing you back and forth between their mouths like a joint, their occasional brushes against each other only adding to the thrill.
Your mind went blank. You could only feel. The dual sensations, the sight of them between your legs, the sound of their shared appreciation. Your orgasm ripped through you with the force of a tidal wave, a blinding, shuddering release that left you gasping and weak, your body twitching with the aftershocks. They didn't stop, drawing out your pleasure until you were a whimpering, oversensitive mess, completely and utterly theirs.
You were still floating in the hazy aftermath, your body limp and pliant, when you heard the heavy footsteps on the stairs again. A third person. Your heart gave a little flutter of anxious anticipation. You didn't have to wait long to see who it was.
Mingi appeared at the bottom of the steps, his tall frame filling the space. He took in the scene instantly; Wooyoung kneeling on the floor, San's head still between your thighs, your legs splayed wide and still trembling. Unlike San's initial pause, Mingi's reaction was one of immediate understanding and a grin that was pure sin.
"Oh That's what we're doing" He announced, his voice a deep, amused rumble. "Let me get a turn"
He strode over, his confidence radiating off him in waves. While San finally lifted his head, his lips shiny and his expression satisfied, Mingi was already hooking his thumb into he waistband of his own sweats. He pushed them down just enough to free himself, and your breath was caught. He was long and thick, a heavy, imposing weight that he held in his fist.
He didn't ask. He didn't wait. He positioned himself by your head, tapping the thick head of his cock against your swollen, sensitive lips. The gesture was both a question and a command. You were caught in a dizzying spiral of submission and lust. You parted your lips willingly, inviting him in.
He slid into your mouth with a low groan, his hand tangling in your hair to guide you. The sensation was overwhelming— the weight of him on your tongue, the musky , clean scent of him filling your senses.
Just as you find the rhythm, you felt Wooyoung shift. He rose from the floor, his body moving over yours, caging you in. His eyes, dark and possessive, bored into yours as he notched the head of his cock against your soaked entrance. He paused for a fraction of a second, a silent moment of connection, and then he pushed inside.
A guttural moan was muffled by Mingi's length as Wooyoung filled you completely. He didn't start fast. He set a punishing, deliberate pace, pulling out almost all the way before sinking back in, deep and hard. Each thrust forced you further onto Mingi's cock, creating a perfect, overwhelming rhythm. You were the centre of their storm, a vessel for their shared pleasure.
San , now a spectator, watched the whole scene with an avid, hungry gaze. his eyes eyes tracked the way Wooyoung's hips snapped against yours, the way your body arched to take him deeper, and the way you hollowed your cheeks moved as you suck off Mingi. He palmed himself through his jeans, a look of intense concentration on his face.
Then, he calmly pulled out his phone, He unlocked it, his thumb moving lazily across the screen. You could hear the faint click of the keyboard as he typed, his eyes still glued on the sinful scene in front of him. He held his phone to his ears.
"Yo Gedd, Yeah listen, I'm gonna have to raincheck tonight.." he said, his voice completely normal, as if he was discussing the weather. He paused, listening. " Nah, I'll deliver tonight or tomorrow.. laters."
He hung up, tossing his phone onto the armchair across with a soft thud. He looked back at you, a satisfied smirk spreading across his face.
"Wouldn't wanna miss this"
The world was a blur of sensation, a symphony of overwhelming pleasure. You were completely at their mercy, caught between the two men using your body, their movements a perfectly timed, intoxicating rhythm. The air was thick with the smell of sex and smoke that made your head spin.
While Mingi's cock filled your mouth and Wooyoung's pounded into you, San was silent, appreciative audience. He moved in a languid grace, completely comfortable in the role of being the observer. He settled on the armchair across, rolling up another joint with practice eased just like Wooyoung. He lit it, taking a slow drag as he watched them, his eyes dark and heavy-lidded.
Just when you thought you couldn't take anymore, Wooyoung's thrusts began to slow. With a final, deep groan, he pulled out of you, leaving you achingly empty. Before you could even process the loss, Mingi was already withdrawing from your mouth.
"My turn" Mingi rasped, his voice laced with lust.
He didn't give her a chance to move. With a strength that was both thrilling and a little terrifying, he gripped your hips and flipped you over onto your hands and knees. the position was lewd, exposing you completely. He wasted no time, gripping his cock and sliding it in one swift, powerful stroke.
A sharp cry tore out of your throat. Mingi was rougher than Wooyoung, his thrusts harder, more demanding. He sent a relentless pace, the sound of skin slapping against skin echoing in the room. But it wasn't cruel. His hand roamed on your back before finding the lose strands of your hair, he gathered in a pony tail for him to hold.
He reached out one of his arms towards San, who passed him the lit joint without a word. Mingi took it, bringing it to his lips and inhaling deeply as he continued to fuck you from behind. The sight of him, tall and powerful, smoking calmly as he drove into you. It was pushing you over the edge.
But Wooyoung wasn't done either.
he sat back on the couch next to her, his legs spread. His cock, still hard and glistening with your arousal, stood at attention. He tangled his fingers in your hair, guiding your face back towards his lap.
"Open up, Sweetheart" He says with mockery. "We're not done with you yet"
You willingly obliged, your lips wrapping around him once more. The new position was even more intense. Mingi's hard thrusts from behind forced your mouth down onto Wooyoung's length, creating a perfect, synchronised rhythm of being filled from both ends. You were their toy, their plaything, and the thought sent a fresh wave of gushing wetness down your thighs.
That's when the talking started, a low filthy phrase that pushed you to the edge.
"Look at you" San's voice heard from across the couch, thick with smoke and satisfaction. "Taking it so well. Such a good girl.."
"fuck, your mouth feels so good baby" Wooyoung groaned, his hips bucking slightly, pushing deeper. "Just like that, take it all"
Mingi, Holding the joint in one hand, used the other to deliver a sharp, stinging slap to your ass. The sharp smack made you clench around him. "You like that huh?" He growled, his voice rumbling against your back. "Like being fucked by both of us huh? While San watches? Nasty bitch"
The combined stimulation, the relentless pounding, the fullness in your mouth, the stinging pleasure on your ass, and the degrading words that was also praising her. was all too much. Your orgasm crashed through you, violent and consuming. Your body convulsed, your scream muffled by Wooyoung's cock as your walls clenched uncontrollably around Mingi's length.
They didn't stop, riding out your orgasm, drawing it out until you were a trembling, whimpering mess. Yet you craved for more.
You were a limp, quivering mess, your body still humming with the aftershocks of your last orgasm. You were barely conscious, floating in a haze of blissful exhaustion. But the night was far from over.
San had enough of watching.
He stood up from the couch, his patience worn thin. With a possessive growl, he moved to the couch, his eyes burning. He didn't ask, he didn't negotiate. He hooked his hands under your arms, yanking you back from Mingi with a rough, decisive pull that made you gasp.
"My Turn" San snarled, His words raw with declaration of intent.
he manhandled you onto the couch, positioning you so that you were straddling his lap. your back pressed on his chest. He lined up cock against your slick entrance. He didn't give you a moment to prepare before gripping your hips and slamming you down onto him.
A piercing scream tore from your throat, the sound instantly muffled as Mingi stood in front of you again, grabbing the back of your head and guiding your mouth back onto his slicked cock. San's pace was brutal, a ruthless, punishing speed that stole your breath. He used your body like a toy, lifting you up and slamming you back down , each powerful thrust driving you deeper onto Mingi's cock. The pleasure was so intense it bordered on painful , a while hot, blinding force that consumed you.
After a few moments of his merciless assault, San's movements changed, He stilled his hips, his hand gripping on your waist. "Ride me" He commanded. " Show me how much you want it"
Your muscles screamed in protest, but your body was desperate and it obeyed. You planted your hands on Mingi's waist for support and began to roll your hips, bouncing on San at the pace that he wanted.
Your eyes, blurry and hazy, landed on the forgotten joint smoldering on Mingi's hand. You reached for it, you needed the haze, the sweet smoke to dull the edged of this overwhelming feeling that's consuming you. Your movements clumsy as you continue to ride San, you brought the joint to your lips, inhaling a deep, shaky drag as you sank deeper on his length.
The three men watched you, utterly captivated. The sight of you riding one of their cocks while the other is stroking Mingi's, was the single most erotic thing they've ever seen if not experienced. Their gaze was heavy with lust, dark, possessive with pride.
Mingi stroked your cheek, his thumb wiping away a stray tear of overwhelmed pleasure. "So fucking perfect"
Wooyoung took the joint off you from behind the couch, taking a drag off it while reaching to grope one of your tits. You exhaled the thick cloud of smoke, head falling back on San's shoulder as a sudden sharp clarity cut through the fog of lust. You looked at them, a breathless, disbelieving laugh escaped your lips.
"You guys are fucking insane.." you breathed out, voice hoarse from screaming and moaning.
San just chuckled, he nipped at your ear. "You love it"
He tightened his grip, a possessive, final claim. He held you still for a moment, his chest heaving against your back, his cock buried deep inside you. Wooyoung who was watching from behind the couch saw the opportunity, eyes locked at the way you were stretched around San. Your clit swollen and begging for attention. A menacing grin appeared on his lips as he made his way around.
“Gotta make sure she’s full right?” He spat on his hand, stroking his cock to make it slick, and then moved forward, positioning himself at your already occupied entrance.
Your eyes widened, a jolt of panicked excitement shooting through you. ‘W-wait! I- I can't!”
“Yes you fucking can, don’t be weak” San’s voice was low but reassuring, his arms tightening around you to hold you still. “Take a deep breath, I got you baby”
Wooyoung started to push. The pressure was immense, a burning, stretching sensation that teetered on the edge of pleasure and pain. You cried out, your hands unsure where to hold, body tensing instinctively.
“That’s it baby.. You’re doing so well” Wooyoung coaxed, his voice calming you down.
You forced your eyes open, meeting his intense gaze. He looks so fucking good. He pushed again, a slow relentless pressure, and then with a sudden, sharp pop, the head of his cock slid in along San’s
A scream was torn from your throat, the sensation of being so impossibly, unbelievably full sending your senses into overdrive. It was a feeling of complete and utter surrender, of taking you to your absolute limit and then pushed beyond it.
They gave you a moment to adjust, a precious second to breathe through the overwhelming stretch. Then, they began to move.
It was a clumsy, perfect rhythm at first, learning to move together. One would pull out slightly as the other pushed in, creating a constant, maddening friction. Then they found their pace, a synchronised, powerful rhythm that stole the air from your lungs.
Two cocks, stretching you, filling you, owning you. The pleasure was immense, a white-hot, all consuming fire that burned away every rational thought. Your head fell back against San’s shoulder. Your body limp and pliant in his arms as they used you, their shared grunts and groans sending you into another world.
“So fucking perfect” San whispered in your ears, “Such a good little slut”
“Made to be stuffed full” Wooyoung chimed in, his eyes locked on the sight of your cunt stretched around them. Then, he looked up and straight past your shoulders. He leaned in, over your shoulders where San’s face resides and claimed the older male’s lips. Like, they’ve done this before.
You could feel the two move their heads as they locked their lips, it was the most erotic thing you have ever witnessed.
The dirty words, combined with the relentless, dual stimulation, were your undoing. Your orgasm didn’t build; it detonated. A violent, explosive force that ripped through you, your body convulsing and clamping down around them as you screamed their names into the charged air. You were gone, shattered into a million pieces of pure, humiliating ecstasy, lost in the sensation of being filled by two men at once.
The world had dissolved into pure sensation, Your mind went completely blank as Wooyoung and San found a devastating rhythm inside of you. Each twin thrust sent a shockwave through your system, a perfect, agonizing pleasure that was too much and not enough all at once.
Mingi, who had been stroking himself with a slow, deliberate patience as he watched, finally decided it was his turn to join the symphony. He moved to the couch, his tall frame towering over yours from the side. He tapped his leaking cock against your cheek, no words were needed, your mouth complied.
You parted your lips, he slid into your mouth that followed a groan from his own lips. The slick heat distracts you from the painful stretch between your legs. Now you were completely full, three cocks, three men all focused on you.
They all work in tandem, a perfect coordinated machine of pure filth. San’s hips thrust up from below, Wooyoung’s drove down from above, and Mingi slid in and out of your mouth. They moved in a rhythm that was both brutal and beautiful, a shared ecstasy that consumed you whole. Your muffled whimpers and the slick, lewd music of their music of their bodies joining together.
You could feel it coming. The change in their breathing, the way their movements grew more erratic, more desperate and sloppy. They were all reaching their peak.
“Fuck I’m gonna cum” Mingi groaned, his hand tightening around your hair as he began to fuck your face in earnest. “Swallow it all– fuck.”
With final, deep thrust, he buried himself in your throat. His cock pulsed, and hot, thick ropes of cum filled your mouth. You swallowed instinctively, your throat working to take every drop as he groaned his release.
The sight of it, the feeling of you swallowing around Mingi, was the last straw for the two.
“Gonna fill you up” San snarled in your ear, his teeth grazing your neck as his hips slammed up into you one last time.
“Take it” Wooyoung groaned, his eyes wild as he drove deep.
They came together, a perfect, synchronized explosion. You felt the hot, powerful spurts of their release flooding your insides, two distinct pulses of heat that seemed to merge into one, filling you to the brim until their combined essence trickled down your thighs. The feeling was so intense, so absolute, that it triggered one final, shattering orgasm that ripped through what was left of your consciousness.
They stilled, the only sounds in the room their heavy, panting breaths. Mingi slowly withdrew from your mouth, a soft, satisfied sigh escaping you. Wooyoung and San remained inside you for a moment longer, their bodies trembling from the aftershocks, before they too pulled out, leaving you empty and dripping with their cum.
You collapsed forward onto the couch, used, quivering and a satisfied mess.
For a long moment, the only sound in the room was the heavy, sated breathing of four people. The air was thick, saturated with the scent of sex, sweat and smoke.
Then, a sound cut through the haze.
It was your phone, buzzing and skittering across the coffee table. The sharp, insistent chirp of your custom ringtone– a cheerful, upbeat pop song– was scarily out of place. The screen lit, illuminating the name in bold, glowing letters Yunho.
The air turned into ice. Wooyoung who broke the silence, a slow wicked grin spreading across his face.
“Well, Well” He drawled, his voice a low purr against your ears.
“Looks like Boyfriend’s checking in”
You yanked your dress on, grabbing the baggies on the table as panic washes over you.
in which: hongjoong gives you a taste of your own medicine when you're busy working.
pair: idol!hongjoong/afab!reader
word count: 3k
content: sex, oral sex, unprotected sex, creampie, cum warming, cum eating, completely consensual
rating: R — nsfw | mdni
Here’s the thing: usually it was your boyfriend that was busy and you were the one bugging him to spend time with him. You didn’t realize how annoying it was until he started doing the same to you when you were busy with your work.
”Hey, whatcha working on?” Hongjoong asked as he walked into your “darkroom”— you just liked to edit your photos in the dark; you didn’t actually develop film.
“Tour photographs,” you mumbled.
“Ooh, can I see?”
You didn’t need to respond; Hongjoong was already leaning over your shoulder and watching you edit. Under normal circumstances, you would’ve been fine with him bothering you, but these pictures needed to go out that night, and you had barely gone through the bunch and chose the pictures to edit, so your boyfriend leaning over your shoulder, his breath flitting past your ear, was not helping in the slightest.
“You’re so talented,” he praised. “God, I love you.”
He rubbed his nose into the nook of your neck, making your back arch instantly. When he pressed a light kiss against your neck, you shook your head and leaned away from him.
“Baby, not now. I need to get these done,” you told him somewhat firmly. “If they’re not done tonight, I’ll get in huge trouble.”
But Hongjoong didn’t care. For one thing, it was payback for all the times you bothered him while he was working— as much as he loved when you blew him, it was definitely not helpful in the slightest when he was trying to listen to vocals and not make his own— and for the other, he honestly needed it. Like, he desperately needed it. He had just finished watching Casino Royale with the guys, and… He needed it.
“Sweetie,” Hongjoong whispered, his voice extremely sensual against your ear. “Please…”
“I— I can’t,” your breathing hitched when you felt his tongue run from the top of your ear to your ear lobe, his teeth lightly sinking into the soft flesh. “I really need to get these done…”
“You can do it after,” Hongjoong refused to give up and started using the same lines that you had on him in the past. “I’ll be quick.”
Yeah, right. The two of you were never quick.
“No, Joongie. Let me finish working first.”
You were surprised when Hongjoong actually retreated, his body heat fading as he seemingly disappeared. But then, you felt your rolling office chair move back slightly, and moments later, Hongjoong was in between your legs and looking up at you. He was using all of your moves.
“Don’t mind me. Just keep working,” he told you.
You had no choice— you didn’t have time to fight him and throw him out of the room. So, you remained seated, and you kept your eyes glued to your computer screen even when you felt his fingers hook into the waistband of your pants and tug downwards, both your pants and panties falling to your ankles. You did your best to keep your feet planted to the floor, but Hongjoong still managed to pull your pants all the way off you. He spread your legs wide open, his hands squeezing the insides of your thighs as he let out a light puff of air on your cunt, sending shivers down your spine.
When Hongjoong buried his face in between your legs and started eating you out hungrily, you let out a high moan and arched your back, your toes curling.
“Joo— Ooh! God!” you were about to tell him off, but his tongue rolled over your clit and flicked it with an absurd amount of force, cutting you off.
“Yes?” he looked up at you from in between your legs, his naughty eyes sparkling, your arousal dripping from his chin.
“You se-seriously can’t wait?” you whimpered.
“You usually don’t wait when I ask you to when I’m working,” he hummed. “What goes around comes around, sweetie.”
Oh God. That did not sound good for you. Pressing your lips together, you did your best to get through the photos. You still had over… Oh lord, over one hundred photos to edit. You had one hundred plus pictures, a couple of hours, and the horniest man alive sitting between your legs slurping away. Not good at all.
Hongjoong’s hands slid over your thighs and around to your ass, his hands cupping your ass. He gripped your ass cheeks firmly and pulled you even closer to him, his tongue pressing through your folds and teasing your walls. It was when you felt his sharp nose rub against your clit did you move your hands from your keyboard and mouse to his hair, your fingers running through his locks and grabbing his roots tightly. You could hear him chuckle as you pressed him closer to you, your waist moving along with the strokes of his tongue.
You don’t know how or when it happened, but your vision started blurring, and you leaned your head back as your thighs started to tremble, Hongjoong’s tongue edging your orgasm. When he sucked hard on your clit, you felt the band in your stomach snap, and you came. You nearly squeezed your thighs together as you came into your boyfriend’s mouth, your jaw unhinged as the longest moan left your lips.
But, fuck, that wasn’t enough. That was never enough— not for you or for him.
“Fuck, Hongjoong,” you whispered as he pushed your chair back even more and stood up, your hands leaving his hair and resting on his waist. “That… I… Fuck…”
Giving you a taste of yourself, Hongjoong kissed you passionately, his tongue pushing into your mouth. His fingers combed through your hair, and he tugged your head back lightly as he left your lips with a resounding pop. “You liked that, didn’t you, sweetie?”
“Mmhmm,” you nodded and ran your tongue over your lips, tasting more of yourself. “I want more, though.”
“No, you’re right. You need to finish working,” Hongjoong shook his head.
“No, please, baby… I want you to give it to me. Please…”
Hongjoong smirked— he had you right where he wanted you. “Get on the desk, sweetie.”
You did as he said quickly, the man sliding his pants down as you got comfortable on your desk. A pool of saliva collected in your mouth and your knuckles turned white as you clutched the edge of the table and watched him stroke his hardened cock slowly, pre-cum already starting to leak out. You bit the inside of your cheek as you watched his thumb rub over the slit to collect it. He stuck his thumb in your mouth, his eyes instructing you to stuck, which you happily did.
The two of you locked eyes as he rubbed the tip of his cock against your folds and teased you by prodding lightly. You whined slightly as you felt your waist inch towards him, your patience wearing thin. Thankfully, Hongjoong could sense that because he quickly shoved his cock into you. You knew it was coming, but you didn’t know that he would enter you so quickly and forcefully that you let out a moan, only for Hongjoong’s thumb to leave your mouth so he could cover your mouth with his hand.
“Shh, this isn’t the studio, sweetie. People can hear us in here,” Hongjoong hushed you while smirking.
Well fuck. You did your best to swallow all the noises you were making, but Hongjoong was intentionally thrusting into you with so much force that it made your desk creak and your body shift backwards. You were having such a hard time multitasking— trying to stay quiet, making sure you didn’t lean so far back that you knocked your monitor over, resisting your building orgasm, etc.— that you lost yourself quickly in the moment. You were still gripping the table to keep your balance with one hand, allowing your other to hold the back of Hongjoong’s neck, your nails slowly starting to sink into his skin.
“What a good girl, staying quiet for me,” Hongjoong cooed into your ear, his waist still ramming into yours.
Hongjoong calling you a good girl made your heart and walls flutter. Eyes rolling to the back of your head, you let pleasure wash over you, and you came. Your walls clenched, and within seconds, Hongjoong was stuffing you full of his cum, his own low grown echoing in your ear as his head dropped to your shoulder. He shuddered as his cock twitched inside you, his hot cum warming you up.
The second Hongjoong pulled out, he shoved his two fingers inside you to keep his cum from spilling out. He pressed a quick kiss to your lips and said, “Do something for me.”
You could barely respond— Hongjoong was curling his fingers inside you, making you feel so fucking good all over again. You settled for a nod, tears pricking your eyes as he continued to slyly finger fuck you.
“Finish working, then come to the studio later,” he whispered sensually in your ear. “If you don’t let any of my cum spill, I’ll fuck you again.”
Your walls clenched again, but this time purposefully. You wanted your boyfriend to fuck you silly because, even though you already came twice, you were still not done with him. You nodded, making Hongjoong kiss you again in response, this time his kiss a lot more sensual as he slipped his tongue into your mouth. You ran your fingers through his hair and tugged lightly as his kiss continued to intensify.
“Okay,” Hongjoong said breathlessly as he pulled away from you, making you whine slightly. “Now finish working.”
Hongjoong quickly got dressed and left the darkroom, leaving you to struggle redressing yourself and do your best to finish your goddamn work quickly; but how on Earth were you going to do that while squeezing your thighs together thinking about Hongjoong’s cum inside you?
“What a good girl,” Hongjoong murmured, his fingers spreading your folds, his cum immediately pouring out.
You finished the stupid photos at the speed of light— you thought it was a sloppy job, but your boss got back to you immediately and said they loved the photos— so you rewarded yourself by quickly waddling to Hongjoong’s studio. The second you arrived, he had you lay down on the couch, and he pulled off your bottoms to see if you did as he asked— and you did.
Hongjoong was in awe as he stared at your wet cunt. He was planning on fucking you regardless of whether or not you were successful in your endeavor, but seeing that you really wanted to please him made him more horny than he was when he first sought you out in the darkroom. Plus, watching him leak out of you was fucking hot. He was obsessed.
You weren’t expecting to feel Hongjoong’s tongue trail from the bottom of your cunt to the top, his tongue briefly flicking your clit before lapping up your arousal fluid mixed with his cum. You were at first mortified, but those thoughts quickly left your brain when he started fingering you and kneading the inside of your thigh while eating you out.
“H— Hnngh! J-Joongie,” you whimpered as his hand moved to your throbbing clit, his thumb rubbing rapid circles. “I’m g-gonna cum!”
The sound of Hongjoong slurping up your pussy was enough to send you over the edge. You flung your head back into the couch and gripped the cushion behind you as your entire body convulsed, your moan filling up the room, your arousal fluid filling up Hongjoong’s mouth. What sent shivers down your back was when you heard him swallow loudly and consume all the cum.
Hongjoong didn’t give you a second to get it together. He quickly stripped his own clothes, his cock red and throbbing. He hovered above you and kissed you roughly before shoving his cock inside you, his body rolling into yours. His hands were pressed firmly against the armrest of the couch as he rut into you slowly, steadily.
The two of you let out little gasps in between kisses as Hongjoong’s thrusts into you got sharper, but his pace stayed the same. You thought he was taking his time with you, teasing and edging you, but he was actually trying to control himself. He’d been thinking about you all day, and his brain only went more haywire at the thought of you holding in his cum as you worked. He wanted to see you writhing below him, to feel your hot skin pressed against him, to hear your little whines, and he wanted to savor all of it.
His hands grabbed your wrists and held them above your head as his hips started moving faster, his body lowering, his chest rubbing against yours and making your sore nipples tingle. The slaps of his waist against yours started echoing in the room the harder he went, low groans echoing in your ear as Hongjoong moved his head to your neck to leave sloppy, wet kisses along your unmarked skin.
Hongjoong’s cock started rubbing against your G-spot vigorously when he let go of your hands and sat up, his hands clutching and groping your waist. You saw through bleary eyes the man’s jaw tense up, his eyes narrowed and darkened as he sped up— how he was able to go even faster was beyond you because he was practically slamming into you at the speed of light at that point. And when his hand moved to play with your clit, tears officially started slipping out of your eyes, the pleasure overwhelming.
“Fuck! Oh, fuck!” you cried out as your orgasm rapidly approached.
You flung your head back, your eyes fluttering as you came for what felt like the two-hundredth time that day, Hongjoong pulling out entirely to let you squirt all over the couch. His fingers continued to tease your clit, making you cum a couple times in that moment.
“Look at that,” Hongjoong teased, his body nearing yours. He rubbed his nose against your ear and whispered, “You’re just the biggest slut for my cock, aren’t you.”
Your foggy brain wouldn’t allow you to make coherent sentences. All you could do was reply with a quiet, affirming cry, making your boyfriend grin almost evilly in a way. He bit your earlobe and ran his tongue along the curve of your ear, sending shivers down your spine and making your cunt flutter. After all, Hongjoong wasn’t done with you yet— he still had another load of his cum to breed you with.
Hongjoong didn’t bother asking you to move; you were a puddle on his couch, all fucked out without a single thought in your brain. So, he moved you himself, turning you over so that you were on your elbows and knees, your ass high in the air. Without a second to lose, Hongjoong held your ass tightly and slid his cock into you, your body immediately lurching forward when his hips hit your ass. You let out a loud sigh of pleasure as you felt him move, his cock rubbing against your walls just right.
He started slow, but he wasted no time speeding up. His groans rumbled in his chest the more he felt you clench, and when you clenched hard enough, Hongjoong slapped your ass, making you choke out a loud moan.
“You liked that, huh?” Hongjoong asked— you couldn’t see his face, but you knew for a fact that he was smirking.
You nodded briefly before dropping your head, your eyes squeezed shut as you felt pleasure rushed through your body, your fingers and toes tingling. You clenched again, and Hongjoong slapped your ass again, your cunt relaxing immediately upon impact. But, within seconds, you were tightening up again, doing your best to keep yourself from cumming again.
“Fuck, you’re doing this intentionally aren’t you?” Hongjoong hissed as your walls squeezed his cock so tight that he thought he was going to burst.
You didn’t respond. Instead, you bit your lower lip and whimpered. But Hongjoong wanted a response, so he slapped your ass again, making you cry loudly.
“N-No!” you finally answered, your voice wavering. ”It j-just feels so f-fucking good!”
Satisfied with your response, Hongjoong moved his hands to your waist and moved your body as he thrust into you, making the impact twice as powerful. His cock ran past your G-spot several times in succession, making your orgasm approach quickly. When he slammed his hips into you one final time, the two of you came together. Ropes of his hot cum shot through you and filled you up as your thighs and ass trembled due to your own orgasm. You sighed deeply, satisfaction surging through your body as your high wore down, and your body fully collapsed into the couch, your ass still up in the air.
Hongjoong, meanwhile, groaned loudly when he came, his cock throbbing and twitching inside you, his cum continuing to spurt when he moved slightly. Even after he emptied himself out inside you completely, he cock remained buried inside you, his cock still hard and angry begging for more.
“Sweetie,” Hongjoong purred as he leaned over you, his chest pressing against your back as his hand found your neck and wrapped around it lightly. “How about we go home so I can fuck you more?”
“Yeah?” you mumbled.
You turned your head to look at him, your eyes still teary and your head still fuzzy. It only got fuzzier when he kissed you softly yet intrusively and his fingers pressed into your neck lightly, the restriction of airflow slowly turning you on all over again.
“Yeah,” he whispered against your lips. He continued to kiss you as he said in his most sultry voice, “I wanna fuck you until your cunt is red and throbbing, until your ass cheeks have my hand prints, until I make you so full of my cum that it’s just spurting and flowing out of you, until the sun comes up, until we pass out.”
Hearing all of the things he wanted to do to you… Yep, you were done for.
“I’m gonna fill that cunt with my cum all night long, sweetie, just you wait.”
After the boys wrapped up for the day, you started to put your camera away. You had to get the footage from all cameras to deliver to the editor, so you went in search of these cameras. Luckily, most of the cameras were easy to acquire, but you weren't able to reach the one mounted right above the mirrors. Why the hell was the camera so high up anyway?
"Need help?" you head a deep voice behind you. You looked behind you to see that it was Mingi; thank God it was Mingi because you definitely needed someone tall to grab the camera for you.
"Yeah, that camera," you pointed while standing on the tips of your toes in your attempt to reach it again— as if that would actually work.
Mingi placed his hand on the small of your back as if to tell you to stand on your feet properly and reached up for the camera. Seconds later, the camera was in your hands, and you successfully retrieved the SD card. You retrieved the card, which meant you should've gotten back to work, but that definitely did not happen when Mingi slithered his hand from your back to around your waist. In the mirror in front of you, you saw Mingi holding you close to him, his hair shielding his eyes. You couldn't see his eyes, but you knew they were dark and full of lust.
"Mingi, not here," you murmured even though the sight of him in his black tank top was already driving you crazy.
"Why not? No one's in here," Mingi responded in the same register.
He was right— it was just the two of you alone in the huge dance studio. Mingi turned you in his arms and pressed his body right up against yours. You could feel his hard on the more he rubbed up against you, his breathing already starting to get heavy. You clung to his shirt, your hips unconsciously rubbing against him as well.
"Wait, Mingi, the camera," you pushed him away when you realized the expensive equipment in your hand was two seconds from falling to the ground.
Mingi, thankfully, let you go. The second you put the camera down, you looked through the doors to see Seonghwa and San walking towards the studio. You couldn't help but purse your lips— you had no idea if you were going to be able to continue anything with Mingi, and you knew that there was no way Mingi was going to let you go at that point. You especially knew that for a fact when you felt his presence behind you and his hands hold your arms in place.
"Oh, Mingi, you're still here?" Seonghwa greeted the second he and San walked through the door.
You couldn't help but gulp nervously when the other two entered because they, too, were wearing the cursed black tank tops.
"Yeah," Mingi responded. "I'm just helping Y/N out with the cameras."
"Oh? Just the cameras, huh?" San asked, his lips curling into a smirk.
"Y-Yeah, just the cameras," you nodded while gulping nervously. "Nothing else."
"Aw, Y/N, don't say that. We were just about to have a little fun of our own."
Dammit Mingi.
"Oh, well, that's not very fair, now is it, Y/N?" Seonghwa scolded.
"Yeah, Mingi shouldn't be the only one who gets to enjoy," San added.
Both men neared you while Mingi held you in place, the three of them locking you in the center. You felt San reach for your hand, Seonghwa tuck your hair behind your ear, and Mingi put his head on your shoulder, his lips tickling your neck.
"Of course, if you don't want to, that's fine," Mingi spoke softly into your ear. "After all, it wouldn't be right if you didn't want to do it."
As if you were going to say no at that point. You whispered your approval and nodded your head to reconfirm before they pounced on you. Mingi's lips were on your neck while Seonghwa tilted your face up so that your lips would meet his. San, on the other hand, worked on stripping you down. He pushed down your pants all the way and helped you out of them before tossing them to the side.
When Seonghwa left you with a sweet, powerful kiss that left you slightly dizzy and dazed, you were barely able to focus on San, who held your neck gently and turned you to face him.
"I want you to touch yourself," San whispered to you. "Do you think you can do that?"
You nodded meekly, making the man smile so sweetly at you— it almost felt illegal seeing him look so angelic when the words that left his mouth and the things he was about to do to you would make angels perish. Maintaining eye contact with him, you licked your fingers before bringing them down between your legs and stroking your pussy, your spit mixing with your arousal.
"Yes, just like that... Good girl," San muttered after you licked your fingers again to stroke yourself more.
"Hey, did you lock the door?" Mingi asked the other two men suddenly, making your blood run cold.
"Of course we did," Seonghwa chuckled.
"We did as soon as we saw the two of you in here alone," San added.
You relaxed slightly after hearing that, only for your body to unintentionally tense again when Seonghwa slipped his hands up your shirt. He unhooked your bra before pushing his hands under it, his fingers teasing your breasts. You moaned slightly when you felt him play with your nipples, and you moaned again when your fingers brushed past your sensitive clit.
Mingi's hands, which were originally around your waist, moved to your ass. He clenched your ass hard before slapping it lightly, the added stimulation making your fingers and toes tingle even more.
"Kneel," Mingi stated— although, it was more like an order.
You did as he said, and you knelt. Seonghwa's crotch was right in front of you, and you could see that his pants were definitely strained. You quickly undid his belt and unzipped his pants all the way to pull out his cock. Once again, you licked your fingers before stroking him, a soft sigh immediately leaving his lips. As you stroked him, you turned your attention to San. He was only wearing sweatpants, so it was easy for you to pull his pants down just enough to take his cock out as well. You continued kneeling as you stroked the two of them, but you sat up slightly, your waist starting to get a little antsy as you rolled your hips. Luckily, Mingi took care of your impatience when he knelt down as well and began stroking your cunt.
Seonghwa brushed your hair out of your face tenderly before grabbing the back of your head and pushing you forward, his cock hitting your cheek. He didn't need to say it— you just did it. You took his cock into your mouth little by little. Every time you pulled him out of your mouth, you went deeper when you brought him back in, the popping sound of his cock leaving your tight mouth echoing in the room. You heard him exhale through his teeth as he enjoyed the way your mouth felt around his cock.
When San's cock twitched in your grasp, you stopped sucking Seonghwa off and shifted your focus to San's thicker one. You had to open your mouth a little wider for him, yet the corners of your mouth still stung because of his girth. Seonghwa still had his hand on your head, so he guided you along San's cock, pushing you so far that his cock hit the back of your throat and made you gag. San let out a shuddering sigh when you hollowed out your cheeks and slurped, his cock throbbing in your mouth. You were very fixated on his cock until Mingi drove two of his fingers up your cunt, making you gasp in surprise and immediately whimper right after.
"I want you in me..." you looked up at the men with desperate eyes. "I want you to fuck me already."
"Not yet. You still have me to deal with," Mingi reminded you.
He pulled his fingers out of your cunt, allowing you to turn around to face him; and the second you did, he drove his fingers into your mouth and made you suck your arousal off. While you focused on his fingers, you pulled the waistband of his sweatpants down, his cock immediately springing up. You eagerly replaced his fingers with his cock and sucked him off quickly as if it would speed things up for you because while you did enjoy having their cocks in your mouth, you needed them inside you.
"Why the big rush?" Mingi teased you as he raked his fingers through your hair. "We're not going anywhere anytime soon."
"I want you to fuck me, Mingi," you whined. "Please, I don't think I can wait much longer."
"Well, when you ask like that..."
You stopped sucking Mingi's cock when you felt him hold the collar of your shirt. He took your shirt off you as you moved away from him, leaving you naked while the three men hovered above you still clad in their pants and black tank tops.
Somehow, you ended up moving to the middle of the dance room and right in front of the mirrors, giving you the most perfect view of yourself on all fours and the three men behind you. None of them uttered a single word as they surrounded you. San stayed behind you, Mingi was to the left, and Seonghwa was in front of you. He turned you so that you were at an angle in front of the mirror, making it possible for you to see yourself still when Seonghwa knelt right in front of you.
Without question, you took Seonghwa into your mouth, the man groaning almost immediately. He held your head with both hands and let you move at your own pace while San somehow slipped into the space below you, your cunt hovering above his face. He brought your ass down and ran his tongue along your folds, the sensation immediately making your toes curl. Taking Seonghwa out of your mouth, you gasped and moaned erotically, a low chuckle emitted from the man below you as he ate you out. To reciprocate, you spat on San's cock and began rubbing him off before taking Seonghwa back into your mouth.
San sucking hard on your clit did it for you. You squeezed your eyes shut, and moved your hands to the ground to support you as you came. You squirted all over San's face when he surfaced for air, and you continued to cum when he stuck two of his thick fingers inside you and fingered you roughly until you were milked dry. San then moved out of the way, and he ended up pulling off his tank top by holding the back of the collar.
You didn't even get time to appreciate how hot that was because Mingi immediately came in behind you to rub his huge cock along your folds shortly before pushing it through your wet cunt. You didn't get to moan or cry when you felt his size stretch you wide open because Seonghwa kept you busy by fucking your throat. You gagged several times as Seonghwa pushed you far down his cock before allowing you to get some air. You gasped and panted as a trail of your spit remained between your lips and Seonghwa's cock. Before Mingi started moving, Seonghwa got you back on his cock and resumed throat fucking you.
You felt your body lurch forward when Mingi's waist made contact with your ass, your entire body tensing when you felt him drive deep inside you. He thrusted into you with so much force, in fact, that you bottomed out on Seonghwa's cock. The second he felt his cock hit the back of your throat several times, Seonghwa couldn't hold back. He wasn't able to move your head in time, making him spurt cum inside your mouth, coating your entire tongue with his white. He didn't intend to cum in your mouth, but that didn't stop him from uttering his dirty thoughts.
"Be a good girl and swallow," he told you with a low voice.
Looking up at him through your eyelashes, you took him out of your mouth before swallowing everything, only to take him back into your mouth again to get any cum you may have missed.
"Fuck," Seonghwa hissed while brushing your hair. "Good fucking girl."
Mingi, who was rutting into you gently after he heard you gag loudly on Seonghwa's cock, began picking up his pace and intensity. His hands were firmly gripping your waist as he moved you into him, making the impact all the more stronger. You bit your lower lip as you tried to look at the man behind you, only for San to grab your face and move it towards the mirror. You saw in the mirror exactly how fucked out you were, and you saw the intensity on Mingi's face as he focused completely on fucking you well from behind, his hair shielding his eyes as he kept watching the way your cunt swallowed his cock. When Mingi tilted his head up and bit his lower lip, the sensuality of the man was too much for you to handle— that, and his cock; he rammed his waist into yours so hard and so continuously that he managed to hit your cervix, making you cry out as your eyes rolled to the back of your head in pure bliss. Your cunt clenched hard around Mingi as you came, the added pressure making it impossible for Mingi to last any longer. With one final thrust, he came, his ropes of cum spurting deep inside you.
"Were you trying to snap my dick off?" Mingi chuckled after he pulled out, your cunt immediately clenching to keep all of him inside you. "You got so tight just then— Fuck, that was amazing."
You couldn't help but giggle; you loved when the men complimented you, and truth be told, you wanted more. You wiggled your ass, all three men drawing their attention to the way your ass jiggled. San was still hard as fuck, but seeing you tease them like that made Mingi and Seonghwa's cock rise right up.
"Come here," Seonghwa told you as he laid down on the ground. "Sit."
Straddling him while still facing the mirror, you quickly brought Seonghwa's cock to your entrance and sat down so that you wouldn't spill a single drop of Mingi's cum. Seonghwa groaned loudly as he was completely unprepared for you to immediately start fucking him.
"God, you feel so good," Seonghwa sighed after blinking the accumulating stars in his vision. "Your cunt is so perfect and tight even after Mingi wrecked you, huh?"
You laughed and nodded before biting your lower lip. You bounced on Seonghwa's cock gently at first, but when he put his hands on your waist to guide you, your bounces became a lot more impactful, little groans and cries leaving you with every thrust. He then snaked his arms around you and pulled you down towards him so that your chest was pressing against his and your ass was higher in the air. San took advantage of this opening and knelt behind you, his thick cock pushing into you when Seonghwa stopped bouncing you.
"San— Oh fuck!" you cried loudly when you felt him enter you completely and bottom out.
"Look at you taking us both at once," Seonghwa whispered to you. "Good girl."
"Seonghwa—!" you yelped when Seonghwa bucked his hips upwards. He licked his lower lip before biting it, the sensual look on his face driving you even crazier. "D-Don't stop! More!"
Seonghwa's hips continued to ram upwards while San fucked you in rhythm with Seonghwa. The two cocks rubbing inside you were sending you to heaven and back quickly, the knot in your stomach getting tighter with every thrust. When San heard Seonghwa hiss and grunt, he pulled out, allowing the older man to wreak havoc. He quickly moved you so that you were laying down on the floor, and he fucked you silly until your brain melted and the knot snapped. He, too, came inside you, his hot cum spurting sporadically as he groaned. You nearly sobbed as you came yet again, the pleasure clearing out your head at that point.
Seonghwa's cock was still twitching inside you as he moved in and out of you a couple times before completely pulling out. You laid in a puddle of sweat and your arousal for half a second before you felt yourself get carried into the air.
"I hope you didn't forget about me," San uttered.
"O-Of course I didn't..."
"Good. Look straight ahead."
You looked to see that you were facing the mirror once again— you were so out of sorts that you didn't even realize that San was holding you from behind from under your thighs, his thick cock already swallowed by your cunt.
"Oh my God, do not drop me," you said after gaining your bearings.
"Don't worry, I won't," he chuckled.
He began to move your body on his cock. You were looking straight ahead and watched his cock fluidly move in and out of you, the sight turning you on even more. Your eyes then drifted to San, who was looking right into the mirror as well, his gaze hardened, his jaw clenched. He looked like he wasn't going to last any longer either. So, you reached behind you and held the back of his head, guiding his head a little over your shoulder so you could sloppily kiss him. He immediately stopped bouncing you on his cock and focused on kissing you, his tongue diving in your mouth the more you turned towards him.
San ended up letting you down and pinned you down on the ground the same way Seonghwa had moments earlier. He continued kissing you before ramming his waist wildly into yours, your entire body moving with his every thrust. His lips left yours as he sat up and thrust strongly into you one last time before he came inside you, filling you up so that all three men's cum were inside you and swimming together. San's groan sounded loudly in the dance studio— of course even his groans would be fucking loud, right? He was even breathing heavily and loudly when he pulled out, but you weren't one to judge at that point because you were so fucked out that you were making all sorts of noises.
"Look at you all fucked out," Mingi observed. "You like that?"
After regaining your breath, you managed to roll over and push yourself onto your hands and knees.
"Show us that pretty little cunt of yours," San said as he smacked your ass.
Biting your lower lip, you did just that. You pressed your chest into the cool floor and pulled your folds apart. You clenched your cunt, making the cocktail of cum trickle out of you and drip onto the ground.
"Hmm, I don't think we filled her up enough," Seonghwa noted. "What do you say, Y/N? You want more?"
synopsis: you made the innocent mistake of accepting a date. Now you're scared for your life.
warnings: MDNI (I warned you), dark!Yunho, stalker!Yunho, stalking, manipulation, threatening, unconsensual photography, invasion of privacy, implied breaking into house, implied fatphobia (not by Yunho), psychological intimidation, physical violence (not to reader), mentions of injuries (not on reader), did I mention Yunho is kinda creepy here?; not proofread, so sorry if there are any grammar mistakes!
author's note: Oh my God, it's been SO LONG since I sat down to write something. I'm really sorry about that :(. College keeps me too damn busy, BUT I'm back with something fairly new for me regarding my writing. Before you continue, please remember that this is a WORK OF FICTION, which means that the actions here DO NOT PORTRAY IRL YUNHO'S ACTIONS. If you're not comfortable seeing Yunho portrayed like this, DO NOT READ. Second, this work was inspired by @yuyusbabygirl ! If you like this stalker!yunho trope, PLEASE read Flightless Bird. It's SO SO good. Well, I think that's all I wanted to say. Let me know if there are any grammar mistakes, please. Oh, and... a part 2 may come. Anyway, enjoy!
You hoped you were crazy; you really hoped you were. At least that meant that your fears didn't come true.
Click.
Someone is watching you.
You aren't sure how long this has been going on; you just know you became aware of that clicking sound inside your house about a month ago. You know, that clicking sound a camera does when it takes a picture. That's why you got alarmed when you heard it in your room when you were about to sleep.
You thought you were hearing things the first few times, but the clicking became constant no matter where you were. You were cooking? Click. Watching TV? Click. Changing in your room? Click. The only place you didn't hear that clicking sound was in the bathroom, and you're sort of relieved for that.
You wanted to believe it was something else. Hell, you hoped it was rats; at least you could find a way to deal with it, but someone watching you? It made your stomach twist.
Click.
If it were someone watching you, you should've called the cops, but how the hell were you supposed to do that with no evidence? They would think you were going insane and discard you. You even checked the whole house to see if you could find a camera, but nothing. You were empty-handed.
Click.
That's why you chose to believe that it was nothing. Stupid decision, really, but you couldn't do much without proof. You just changed in the bathroom and went to sleep fully covered.
Click.
But you made one mistake: going on a date.
Click.
One of your work friends mentioned that she knew a guy who would "totally be your type". You were skeptical at first, but she showed you a few of his pictures, and you did find him attractive. So she set up a sort of blind date, to put it like that.
You were excited. It's not every day that you're asked out on dates, and you know why. As much as it sucks, guys didn't normally ask you out on dates due to your weight. But that's okay because you don't normally care about stupid things like that. You were okay with how you were.
Click.
You wore the most stunning outfit you had, and you smelled amazing. You were so happy with how you looked that not even the clicking sound was bothering you. This was your day!
Until your date arrived and you noticed the disappointment in his face.
Click.
You weren't what he expected, that's for sure, but he also wasn't what you expected. When your friend said he was "totally your type", you thought she meant that weight wouldn't bother him, but it did, and he made it obvious.
"I think I'm going to order a salad. You should order one, too."
Disgusting. Genuinely disgusting. Seriously, a salad? What kind of stupid comment was that? You rolled your eyes. At least he could've insulted you better.
"Perhaps not," you had answered.
The guy —whose name you don't remember— was disgustingly staring at you the rest of the date as you happily ate what you had ordered. You did feel uncomfortable, and you wanted to leave, but you wanted to eat something before you locked yourself in your room.
Click.
"I don't think this is going to work out," said the guy when he dropped you off at your house. "I like to go out and do sports, and I'm looking for a partner who can do that with me."
Was he really this idiotic?
"But if you ever want to lose fat, you can call me. I know someone who can help with that."
Of course he did. You wanted to slap him, but you forced a smile and gently closed the door behind you. It wasn't until you got into your room that you let some tears escape.
Click.
You felt stupid for allowing his attitude and comments to affect you. You felt really, really pretty that day, and some jerk had made you doubt it. That just made you angrier.
"I hope you enjoy your gym, dumbass," you murmured between sobs.
The problem came two days later, when you got home from work.
Click.
You went to your room to get some clothes for a shower, when you saw the outfit you had worn for the date lying on the bed, along with an envelope. That sent chills down your spine. It should've been enough to leave the house and call the cops, but you were curious. And curiosity killed the damn cat.
You opened the envelope and saw photos of yourself, but they weren't photos you had taken. No, these photos were taken by someone in your own house.
Click.
You gasped and let the photos fall to the bed. There were like a hundred pictures there. You sleeping, you cooking, you out of the shower, you eating, and... you going to work. He was following you, too.
You quickly grabbed your phone to call the cops, but an unknown number was calling you. You stared at it in shock until the call went missing. Not even a minute later, you received a message.
"Answer."
You wanted to cry, but you couldn't even breathe properly. You had to decide whether to breathe or cry.
"Now."
Another call from an unknown number. Shakily, you answered and put the phone close to your ear. You could only hear a man breathing on the other side until-
"My perfect girl."
You gasped and covered your mouth. A man's voice. It sounded deep and shaky, like he was getting riled up just by talking to you.
"Keep looking at the photos."
You didn't want to. In fact, you wanted to throw up. You couldn't do it.
"There's a surprise for you among those pictures, princess."
A sob escaped your lips. You wanted to hang up, but you were afraid of what he might do if you did. So you had no choice but to keep looking at the pictures on your bed.
You playing video games, you at work, you changing clothes, the day of the date-.
You almost fainted.
He knew you went on a date and that it had gone wrong.
There were more pictures, but these ones were from the guy. He followed him home and to the gym.
The next photos were of the guy beaten down at the gym with his leg fractured.
You weren't sure what sound came out of you. It sounded like a mix between a drowned scream and a gag. The guy looked horrible, and it was your fault. Now you regret going to that date even more.
"How dare he insult my perfect girl?" spoke the voice from the phone. "You looked so radiant, and he dared to belittle you like that."
If it were a different occasion, you would've been flattered, but this wasn't a moment to be flattered. This psycho hurt someone because of you.
"I should've stopped him, princess. I should've stopped him before he went to pick you up," the voice shook with anger. "But I wanted to trust you. I wanted to trust that you would cancel last minute."
You gagged again as the tears spilled out and your sobs grew louder.
"But you didn't," the voice said, more serious this time. "And look how he treated you."
You had to hang up. You had to call the cops and show them the evidence so they could find this creep. You were just about to press the hang call button when-
"Don't hang up the fucking phone!"
You yelped. He was watching you right now. For fuck's sake, this guy had you right where he wanted to. The place that was supposed to be safe for you is now completely against you.
"You call the cops, or anyone, and I'll gut the guy's intestines out. You'll receive quite a nice gift from me soon."
You couldn't contain the loud cry that escaped from you. Why? Why you? You hadn't done anything. You barely went out with anyone! Why you?!
"Shhhhh, shhhh," the voice tried to comfort you. "Be good for me, okay? If you behave, I'll take away the cameras from your kitchen, yeah? But you must be good."
So there were cameras in your house, even if you couldn't find them. You wanted to laugh, knowing that you were right, but that's exactly what made you cry more.
Click.
You're sitting in your room now. The man hung up after he made sure you wouldn't call the cops. The pictures are all over the floor now, and the clothes from the date are in the hamper again.
Click.
Click, click, click. That fucking clicking sound is driving you insane. Does he enjoy taking pictures of you suffering? Fuck, what is he even doing with those pictures? You shuddered at the thought and decided to completely cover yourself and take a nap in hopes that all of this was a nightmare.
Behind those cameras, however, was a man you had seen before. A man you used to talk about with your friends when you saw him at work. A man who, once he set his eyes on you, never wanted to let you go.
"Don't be scared, princess," Yunho whispered, staring at the TV screen. "You're safe with me. No one is going to hurt you."
a/n: I’ve been wanting to answer this for so long and i finally have so much time to write *smirk*, thank you so much for waiting and im genuinely sorry for the long wait
this is just an innate thing he does. he probably discovered this the first time when he and his s/o forgot the safety protocol and did it raw. but just when he thought it couldn’t get any better, it absolutely did and he never turned back. the way he could entirely feel their tiny hole split open and accommodate his entire girth had him going feral,, not to mention the one time his s/o guided his hand to their abdomen and pressed down and he felt it. the visual of his bulge in their belly was enough to fuel him for a few more rounds and at the end of it all, the sight of his cum slowly glazing out of their ruined, gaping hole, and pooling on the sheets was enough to get him hard again
ROLEPLAY ⊹
looking at all of his spiderman pics, there's no doubt about it man. oh gosh,, he probably begs his s/o to dress up in matching spiderman outfits which he probably bought off shein on a random tuesday afternoon, but it doesn't matter anyways because he plans to ruin the absolute fuck out of them. like just imagine him digging his fingers and ripping open their spiderman tights from behind, making a slit just large enough for him to ease his girth in, and then proceeding to pound into their tight hole, watching the costume get absolutely soaked by loads and loads of his cum seeping out of their ruined cunt after. "ha…f-fuck,, princess, you like that so much huh? like it when i shoot those webs into you, hm?” are things he would say while fucking them in front of the mirror, the obscenity on full display. or even worse,, before all that spiderman obsession, he absolutely relished in playing out those cliché tropes like a kidnapper and his victim and he would “force” them to ride in a cowboy position. just when they’re so overstimulated and shaking all over, he’ll grab the sides of their waist and lift their hips up just enough for his mushroom tip to be exposed, and then slam it back down in one full swing such that both of yunho’s and his s/o’s thighs meet and make a loud “plap” sound followed by his s/o screaming… ^^
FINGERING ⊹
i swear he just uses prep time as an excuse to finger his s/o. he loves doing it in front of the mirror where his s/o can watch as he works his way, scissoring and stretching it slowly but surely with one finger, then two, then three. and by the time that happens, his s/o is always squirming in his embrace, heads shaking, mumbling “n-nghh! n-no…too much…hurts” but all pleas fall on deaf ears as he speeds up and is practically pistoning his fingers in and out,, pussy making obscene sounds while a thick ring of cum pooling at the base of his fingers while his other hand firmly holds his s/o’s thighs apart. “come on baby, just a little more, gotta stretch you open so that I can breed that little hole, hm?”
for mature audiences only, minors will be blocked.
⟢ a/n: *frodo voice* it's gone..... it's done | this does NOT in any way, shape, or form depict who / how any of ateez are irl. please do not take this fic as fact on their personalities or actions, please and thank you.
⟢ summary: the grande finale™
⟢ total word count for both parts: 56.4k (128 pages....)
⟢ warnings: MINORS RUN FOR THE HILLS | swearing, captive reader, conditioning, use of names (daddy, angel, sir), depiction of murder, mentions of dismemberment, buried alive, attempted double murder, threats of violence, psychological warfare, gun violence, blood, head trauma, temporary loss of memory, mentions of death/dying, PTSD, brief/indirect mention of SA, yunho is crazy
Yunho adjusted his grip on the gun, turned the safety off and pressed it against her head.
Another disappointment, another waste of his time. She trembled beneath him on the forest floor, begging him to not end her life, to let her go, blah blah blah… It bored him. Agitated him, too. By now, he was so sick of hearing the same things over and over again. As if they could change his mind so easily. She dug her own grave, as far as he was concerned, attempting to commit the biggest sin of all: trying to run from him.
She’d gotten rather far – farther than the others ever hoped to get – making it all the way out to the elevator before he caught her around the middle, kicking and screaming as he dragged her all the way back.
“Let me go,” she warbled, struggling against the ropes that bound her ankles and wrists. All that Yunho heard from that plea was, ‘I never wanted to stay. I lied to you’ and quite frankly, it only pissed him off even more. His disappointment in her manifested into his infamous anger. She had been a good girl, until she tried to get away.
He rolled his eyes when she started crying. Not only was it annoying, but it was useless as well.
“Shut up.” He hissed, pressing the barrel of the gun harder against her head.
When she didn’t stop after he hit her over the head with the gun the first time, he shoved her to the ground, pressing a muddy boot up against her throat. The next hit to the head did shut her up, knocking her unconscious without any further problems.
The cut-off scream echoing into the air was the last piece of evidence that she’d ever been alive in this place. She simply wouldn’t exist anymore in a few short minutes. She didn’t deserve to, anyway. Not anymore.
Normally, if she had stayed quiet and he’d just shot her instead, next would be the most laborious part: removing the identifiable features. He had to remove their hands and feet due to the ligature marks, which also gets rid of finger prints. Those have to be buried deeper into the forest, far away from the body. Tedious, but necessary. Sometimes, he’d pull their teeth and or cut off their heads. Just depended on if he felt like doing it, or had the time to. But he’d rather forgo all that trouble. She'd pissed him off too much, and he didn’t want to be near her anymore, not even in death. If she had just accepted her fate quietly, he would’ve been nicer to her.
Quiet girls get the gun. Noisy ones choke on the dirt.
It’s all too easy for him to nudge her body into the freshly dug, shallow grave with his boot. Custom made, just for her. She hits the ground with a dull thud, some loose soil shaking loose above and landing on her neck. And when he stared down at her, body laid in a crumpled heap only four feet below the earth’s surface, watching the slight rise and fall of her chest, he felt… nothing. Just like he did when he had to do this to the others. At least that was a good sign – he wasn’t becoming weak.
Yunho’s hand flexed on the handle of the shovel.
All the months he wasted on her, all the trouble and the headaches she caused him pile up as the sight of her body burned into his brain. He rolled his shoulders back.
Next time would be different, he was sure. Trial and error is all this is, after all.
The morning sun started to filter through the tree branches, warning him that it was time to wrap it up. Get her under.
“Min,” he called lazily, holding the shovel out towards his best friend, who took it without a word. As expected in this routine of theirs. He stood back, busying himself by warming up his hands, his breath visible in the wintry air.
Mingi tried not to look at her as he shoveled the dirt back into the grave. Occasionally he’d catch a few glimpses of her body and have to turn away or lower his gaze even more. He’d warned her in the backseat on the way here. He’d warned her to not scream or cry and she’d get the preferred way out. She was hyperventilating the whole drive there, leaning into him for comfort. He was glad she was blindfolded – he didn’t have to see the raw terror in her eyes.
His own eyes were shut tight when he heard her start to wake up again, choking and weakly trying to claw the dirt away from her mouth and nose to no avail. Already more than halfway, he couldn’t hear her for much longer.
For his sanity, he has to believe it’s better. For the best. She was suffering in that apartment, as they all did. But when they don’t die right away, those times are always the worst. He hated that he had hoped Yunho would just shoot her, get it over with. He can’t imagine anything worse than a slow death, one you can see coming before it fully envelops you. The sounds of dirt being coughed up, breathless, piercing screams managing to slip through the earth, and the slow, gradual silence that follows.
‘Air is a luxury’, as Yunho would say.
Mingi thought of the girl before. Kara. Her life ended with the sound of birds flying out of the trees, scrambling away from the man with the gun. She’d stayed quiet. However, not exactly because she was being ‘good’. In all ways except physically, she was already dead. It’s why Yunho got so bored with her. She only lasted three months.
He finished his grievous task quickly, unfortunately used to it, and quickly walked back towards the car to throw the shovel into the trunk. He never lingered after the last shovel of dirt was placed, only smoothing over the surface to better blend the unnatural mound into the forest landscape. Nothing out of place, hidden by plantlife and the shadows of the trees overhead. He took off a glove and ran a hand down his face, bracing himself against the boot of the car for a minute. Just a minute. Nauseous guilt, that had once been strong enough to make him physically sick after each time, was slowly becoming manageable. He just needed some time to push it down.
Come tomorrow, he’d reset. He’d be alright… somewhat. Ready to move on, already patching up the memory of this in his mind with large, black spots until it fully covered the entire picture. Time would heal everything, as it always had.
Yunho came back to the car, staying in that clearing for a while longer, making sure she wasn’t able to claw her way out. Once he broke through the trees, Mingi noted how carefree he was, inspecting his nails for any dirt or visible blood stains. The simpler it is for him to shake off this loss, the more it proved to him that she wasn’t the one. Not meant to be. That was always easier to digest.
There was a lingering emptiness in the car that only Mingi felt. Three arrived here, and only two left. His hand stays in his pocket, one of her bracelets still safe in there, unbeknownst to Yunho. It had fallen off of her wrist in the struggle to get her tied. Once they got back to the apartment, it’d be a couple hours of deep cleaning, removing any sign that she had been there whatsoever. Only the ghost of her would loiter there now.
“Are you still going out tonight?” Mingi asked, making casual conversation in order to focus on anything other than the image that he cannot unsee. Sounds he cannot unhear. A girl he couldn’t save… but probably could have if he had done more.
Yunho nodded as he drank his coffee, placing the cup back into the holder next to him.
“Yeah… should be fun.” He said as his hand flexed on the wheel. He smirked as he looked over at his friend, knowing Mingi had picked up on the insinuation.
Mingi only nods, tight-lipped and mentally faraway from the claustrophobic confines of the car. One of the first emotions that bubbled up for him then was irritation – the knowledge that he’ll have to go through all of this again, only to inevitably aid in her demise. The clean-up, the memory gap, the renewal, over and over. A drawn-out routine as predictable as the sun rising and setting every day and night.
His phone dug uncomfortably into his thigh, as if urging him to use it. Call the police now. Stop the cycle now. But all he does is readjust how it was laying in his pants pocket. Complicit and loyal as ever. As silent as the grave they just filled.
The forest eventually gave way to highways and city streets, shifting from green to grey in less than an hour. In the heart of the city again, Mingi looked away from the windows, avoiding looking at the people on the streets. He told himself if he did, everyone would be looking back at him. They’d know what he just did. They’d know what was in the trunk of the car, they’d see the guilt on his face, as well as the unwillingness to end it. Maybe she could have been saved that morning, if he had just tried to talk Yunho out of it. But he knew all too well, once Yunho decided to do something, there was no talking him out of it. There was no stopping his plans once in motion.
Mingi rested his head against the window, eyes shut tight to avoid his reflection in the side-view mirror and the people in the streets. He didn’t need to see in them what he already saw in himself.
When the car finally crawled to a stop, he took a deep breath before glancing over to Yunho, who was already moving to get out of the car.
“Let’s get this over with.” Yunho grumbles, not particularly looking forward to the clean-up process. He was used to it, though, having done it five times before. Again: tedious, but necessary. The price he paid, risk and reward. However, he was getting rather impatient, what with all the risks without rewards, the gambles without the payoffs, and all of this effort with no results. A thankless job, if you asked him.
The thought never failed to amuse him, as he scrubbed every single appliance, washed every pillowcase and blanket, separated the trash to later burn what she had touched, and moved the stuffed animals back into the apartment next door; the thought that Jeong Yunho, global boyfriend, member of ATEEZ, was spending his rare days off cleaning up a crime scene. He couldn’t stop the corners of his mouth from pulling up, smug as ever as he ripped up her journal, collected the torn pages into a fireproof bowl, and grabbed his lighter. Her deepest fears (which were primarily him), her thoughts, her very memory all burned before him. The light of the flame danced in his dull, wicked eyes. As soon as she was reduced to ash, she was tipped over the balcony railing, catching on the wind and disappearing, seamlessly blending into the dust and concrete on the city streets.
Mingi ignored the smell of smoke, electing to breathe through his mouth until it became dry just to avoid it. He had volunteered to deep-clean the living room, away from the burning and bleaching tasks. His eyes watered and stung from the harsh chemicals of the bleach. At least the loud humming of the vacuum kept his thoughts at bay for now. However, he wasn’t sure how long he could stay here. The walls were closing in on him by the minute.
Hours later, somehow he found himself on the floor in the hallway, sitting next to Yunho, waiting for the bedding to come out of the dryer. The very last thing. The two of them sat in silence, listening to the constant whir of the machine. Yunho leaned his head against the wall, Mingi silently picked at the skin around his nails. Both of them, exhausted. There wasn’t much to be said, at least not out loud.
Yunho scrolled through Instagram and TikTok on his phone during the wait, occasionally nudging Mingi with his elbow to show him something funny. Mingi would laugh via a sharp exhale through his nose, as a courtesy. Too normal. Way too fucking normal.
“I gotta start getting ready soon,” Yunho sighed, glancing up at the time on his phone before switching it off. “You got this, Min?”
Mingi nodded, muttering a small ‘yep’ in reply. He’s used to this, too. Yunho would create a mess, or start something, and he’d be left to finish it. That was just how their dynamic was, and Mingi was all too willing to play the part Yunho wanted him to play. Anything to make sure he stayed. Even if it meant hating himself after.
Yunho pushed himself up, disappearing into his room and starting up the shower to get the smell of bleach and earth off of him. Mingi looked down at his own body to find dirt streaking up his forearms and staining the lower legs of his jeans. His fingernails were black. From the hallway, he looked over at the entranceway of the apartment where they had kicked off their shoes upon arrival. He’d have to get the dirt off of those too.
The dryer sang, announcing that the cycle had ended and fell silent. With a huff, Mingi also pushed himself up off of the floor, ignoring the ache in his lower back as he straightened, and set about collecting the freshly dried sheets and making up the bed.
The sun was beginning to take more and more time to set, a hopeful sign that spring would come sooner rather than later, even if the biting winds and freezing temperatures said otherwise. When golden light filtered in through the blinds, Yunho emerged, pulling on a glove with his teeth, texting with his other hand. Mingi looked away, bringing the shoes back in from the balcony after banging each pair against the railing to shake the remaining dirt loose. Even though he came back inside, he swore he could still see his breath inside the apartment.
Yunho paused, watching his best friend place the shoes back down next to the front door. He was less shaky than last time they did this. Yunho grinned to himself as he sent off the text, everything falling into place for him. As usual. As expected.
“I think we’re good,” Yunho said, giving the apartment a once-over. He nodded once, his final seal of approval. “I’m off. Are you staying?”
Mingi cleared his throat. “No, I’ll um… I’ll go home.”
“Mm.”
After waiting for a minute, to see if Yunho would say anything else, Mingi finally allowed himself to put his newly cleaned shoes back on, as well as his coat. When Yunho still didn't say anything, his shoulders dropped in relief.
“I’ll see you tomorrow.” Mingi said, hand on the doorknob, ready to go.
“See you tomorrow,” Yunho echoed, waving him off.
Once the door closed behind Mingi, leaving Yunho in the rare, empty silence of the apartment, he looked around him one more time. His eyes scanned for anything they might’ve missed, and found nothing. With a sigh, he checked his phone for the time again before pulling on his other glove. Thankfully, he expected the rest of the night to go smoothly for him. He’d been so stressed recently, having just gotten back from Europe, wrapping up the tour and an appearance at Fashion Week, preparing for their comeback, working on choreography and his solo, variety appearances, everything just piled up. And she didn’t make it any easier on an already troubled mind. She didn’t ease his stress whatsoever – so what really was her purpose in being there any longer?
Which is why he’s so glad that you fell into his lap when you did.
Hidden well behind the likable, meet-your-parents type of golden boy charade he put on so masterfully, a predator hunted the streets, scanning and cataloguing everything. Everybody. The widely accepted misconception that he would never hurt a fly only played right into his hands. Effortless charm that never failed to completely dismiss any suspicion from him, and you were no exception. You fell for him hard. A cute, innocent thing, relatively new to the city, with no knowledge of ATEEZ whatsoever, and far from home. Just what he was after.
Too trusting, too good to be left out wandering the city streets for just anybody to look at or come across. All too easy for someone like him to happen upon you – with thanks to Mingi.
He had ordered the same drink as you on purpose. Of course he did.
He had followed you to that cafe, already knowing the ins and outs of your schedule, the names of your friends and your parents, and where you lived – both at home, and here in Seoul. To attract you towards him even more, trust him even more, he tailored himself to be your dream, though he didn’t have to do too much. He was blessed with an enviable card in life; rich, tall, naturally charming, and handsome all on his own.
What he needed now was to genuinely feel in control and loved. That was the hard part.
Whatever else there was to know about you, he would figure it out by taking you out on these dates, like the one he had planned that night. Only the second official date, and he already knew you were next. You were ticking off all of his boxes: submissive, good listener, kind, beautiful, and just naive enough to let your guard down around him already. If you managed to survive and behave, he knew he would owe Mingi big time for finding you for him. Matchmaker, indeed.
The drive there was smooth if not just a little too long for how impatient he felt. A restaurant hidden deep in the city, with a booth that boasted luxury and privacy awaited his arrival. He’d turn the charm all the way up, just the right amount to be the perfect man, the envy of all of your friends, the angel you always dreamed of. He’d also try small, easy commands to see how you would react to receiving orders; whether you’d fight him on it, or obey without any pushback. He hoped for the latter. Arriving twenty minutes early, he parked his car nearby and kept his face hidden well as he walked inside the restaurant, quickly being ushered to his reserved booth in a private dining room upon giving a fake name. You knew to ask for ‘Jeong’ whenever you arrived. You assumed he was just rich and important in some way, a private guy. Nothing wrong with that. He had given you no red flags, and hey, you could get used to luxury like this even if you had to arrive separately. When you entered the private room, he stood immediately, wrapping you in a welcoming hug, muttering something about how you need a thicker coat to protect yourself against the frigid weather.
The date was perfect, and so were you.
He complimented you on how beautiful you looked, and when you shyly looked down, avoiding the praise, he just tilted your chin back up, a silent command to keep your head up and your eyes on him. And you did. Behind the undeniable but unspoken sexual tension between you two, you failed to recognize how you were playing right into his fantasy. With a disarming smile that showed he meant you no harm or underlying remarks about your weight in any way, he whined that you should eat more to keep up your strength, in your best interest in the long run. You giggled and agreed with him. It wasn’t hard to finish everything, it was delicious and you paced yourself well. He watched you eat the last bite with a glint of something unreadable in his eyes, and then it was gone again. What you missed in the smile that he gave you was the predatory fire in his eyes. You were the lamb that willingly walked into the wolf’s den, believing that he would show you kindness and love instead of hunger and bloodshed. But just like in the folktales and warnings, the wolf didn’t reveal himself right away. All the while proclaiming how the world sent you to him, and only the big bad wolf could ever protect you from the dangers within it.
First, he earned your trust, and then he went in for the kill.
It took everything in him to not take you back to the apartment then and there. Against every fiber in his body telling him to take you now, he only allowed himself to hug you goodbye, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead that made your cheeks burn and your heart flutter in the night air. He told you to get home safe, to text him when you got there as he looked around the darkened city, and you nodded. You would. And you did.
The drive home is spent white-knuckling the steering wheel. He stared at the pitch black road ahead of him without paying much attention to it, fighting against himself to whip the car around and steal you from your apartment now. He hadn’t felt this strongly about someone in such a long time, and although he couldn’t place his finger on precisely why, something in him just told him that you would be worth the effort this time.
You wouldn’t leave him. You wouldn’t be able to, nor hope to. He had practice and experience with this now. He knew what worked and what didn’t, and he corrected his foolish past mistakes. He knew to lock the windows so you couldn’t jump like Yuri, never let you bathe without supervision like Hyerim, and to not let you starve yourself like Sofia did. Every girl before you had failed him before because they had something you wouldn’t be able to have: a chance to leave of their own accord. A choice.
No. You would be his greatest achievement yet. Kept safe and beautiful just for him. And the guys would thank him for it.
As he parked the car in the dorm building’s garage, his phone lit up.
[pretty girl🖤]: home safe! :)
[pretty girl🖤]: thank you so much for dinner, i had such a good time !!
Good girl, he smirked, biting his bottom lip. You remembered one of his orders. He replayed the date in his head, already planning the next one – the most important one. The next one was when he would finally take you here. Tonight solidified that plan.
Accordingly, and to his own sick amusement, he changed your contact name in his phone before he responded.
[Yunho]: good im glad :)
[Yunho]: get some sleep baby. i’ll text u tomorrow <3
You emphasized that text, a thrill running through your entire body at the pet name.
[7🖤]: yessir🫡😴
[7🖤]: goodnight :)
He didn’t respond, simply hearting your last message and finding his and Mingi’s conversation. His message to his best friend was short and to the point, saying everything that could be conveyed in the simplest way possible.
[Yunho]: ;)
Back in his own dorm, Mingi threw his phone against the wall. It cracked immediately on impact.
· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·
“Yeosang?” Seonghwa whisper-shouts towards the dark hallway.
You tense, choking the life out of Puppy, veins popping out of your hand as you listen to the footsteps drawing nearer and nearer. One set of them, not two.
You know that sound all too well.
There is a brief, terrible pause before the owner of the footsteps steps into the candlelight.
Met with the last person he expected – or wanted – to see, Seonghwa nearly hits his head on the wall behind him, his body jolting backwards, away from the danger. At the same time, your body locks up, even though all your training tells you to get on the ground as fast as you can. A part of you sighs in relief, glad that he’s back. Another part wants to jump out of the window as soon as possible.
In the dim, golden light, he looks more devilish than ever you’ve seen him. His anger is palpable, radiating off of his body. Your hand starts to cramp painfully as you nearly squeeze off Puppy’s head. You notice his hands are filthy, dirt staining his pants up to the knee, and tracking off of his shoes with every step.
He’s the first to speak. “Expecting someone else?”
Seonghwa exhales shakily, too frightened at the moment to say anything in response. You glance at him from the corner of your eye, having never seen him this scared of Yunho before, and you don’t know why. But you don’t have much time to ponder that as Yunho’s attention turns to you next. His jaw sets, eyes flickering between you and the space on the floor in front of him – where you should be.
“How. Fucking. Rude.” Yunho snarls, punctuating each word by removing his belt, pulling the leather out more and more until it finally unfurls from his hips like a whip about to be cracked. You scramble off the bed, landing hard onto the floor, but you know you’re already too late. He watches you tremble beneath him, looking down at you past his nose like you were pathetic to him. Disappointing too.
“W-welcome h-h–”
“Shut your fucking mouth.” He growls, looping the belt once. Every vein in his hand pops.
The apartment holds its breath, sucking all the air out of the room. Each one of you, a livewire, ready to spark, snap, and burn.
“Y-Yunho,” Seonghwa stammers around his fear, “h-how are you he–”
“Early flight. Got in this afternoon.” Yunho bites the words as he speaks them. He doesn’t look towards Seonghwa while he talks, keeping his gaze fixed solely on you. You try to focus on your breathing, anything to try and calm yourself down. You don’t know why he’s this angry, though you’re sure that your attempt to open the window must be part of it. A cold shiver runs through your body. You can suddenly feel each individual scar on your legs from the fire. What will it be this time?
Yunho stalks towards you, pointing the belt at your face, accusingly. “You knew, didn’t you?”
Utterly confused, you can only gape at him, eyes wide in fear, looking to Seonghwa for clarification.
Wrong move. The belt strikes you across the cheek, the metal buckle snagging on your cheek and ripping the skin. A startled, pained yelp tears from your throat before you can get a hold of yourself. You force your hands to stay by your side. Your knees already ache. Stay still, be good.
“Answer me,” Yunho hisses, grabbing you by the hair and yanking it painfully. Up close like this, you can smell the scent of earth that clings to his skin and clothes.
“No, Daddy, please, I swear! I don’t know what you’re talking about, please–”
Tired of your babbling already, he shoves you to the floor. In a foolish attempt to straighten yourself up, back on your knees, he flattens you down again with his boot, stepping right between your shoulder blades. Your jaw hits the floor hard, and you narrowly avoid biting your tongue on impact.
“Yunho, she didn’t know–”
“Stop talking.”
You whimper at the loud and harsh tone coming from him, and he rolls his eyes at you. He applies more pressure on your back, your ribs pressing uncomfortably into the carpet. Some of your hair is trapped underneath his boot and it rips out of your scalp when he sharply pulls off. Off to the side, you hear Seonghwa push himself off of the wall, lunging for his backpack. He barely gets his hand inside of it before Yunho grabs you from the floor again, bringing you up on your knees, causing your head to spin, and he presses the knife up to your throat.
“Don’t even think about it,” he warns. The very tip of the knife digs into your skin, stinging underneath your jaw painfully. You can feel your heartbeat pulsing in your throat, against the sharp edge of the blade. Seonghwa freezes immediately, dropping the bag back down to the floor with a dull thud. He swallows hard, seeing you so close to getting your throat cut right in front of him. It definitely is more than a threat – it is a very real possibility.
“Bring it to me.” Yunho says lowly. When Seonghwa hesitates, clearly not wanting Yunho to have the gun, the knife is only pressed against your throat harder, cutting you deeper. Your hands reflexively fly up to his forearm and you whimper, begging Seonghwa with your eyes to just do what he says.
So he does. Reluctantly, he wraps his hand around the handle of the backpack, fighting against every instinct in his body to get away from Yunho rather than walk right towards him. They watch each other the whole time. You can feel the air from the bag as it drops in front of you. Yunho nudges it with his foot to bring it closer to his side. His breath is hot against your ear.
“Don’t move,” he hisses before shoving you back down to the floor. Only a small noise escapes you as you hit the ground, your upper back sore from his earlier reminder to stay down.
He lazily points the knife in Seonghwa’s direction. “I believe I told you to do something,”
Seonghwa stiffens but somehow remains defiant even in the very face of danger. “Yunho give it up, they’re on their way. You don’t have–”
He’s cut off by Yunho laughing. Actually laughing at him. “Is that supposed to scare me? Stop me? No, no, no, I gave you a very simple task and I want to see it carried out.”
All laughter gone in an instant, Yunho throws his belt at Seonghwa’s feet, who takes a step back from it. “I’m not–”
“This is the last time I’ll be nice about this,” Yunho warns bluntly, stepping forward to crowd Seonghwa’s personal space, towering over him. When neither man moves after a few seconds, Yunho sighs, tapping the flat edge of the knife against Seonghwa’s shoulder. “You wanna keep her alive? Then do it.”
Seonghwa swallows hard. Your heart sinks. You watch his eyes flicker from the knife, to you, to the belt.
The weight of uncertainty lingers, a crack forming in your conditioning that makes you feel like you’re rising towards the surface after spending so much time underwater. Yunho’s presence is like an itch underneath your skin that you can’t scratch. Something you always longed for, worked yourself to the bone for. It feels like a steel rod has been shoved down your throat and you’re being forced to look and act like nothing is wrong. Stay quiet, stay down. Don’t move.
Your body obeys, used to listening to that voice in your head, but now your mind is fractured. Pulled in two different directions: what it knows, and what it’s been told. Similar, but opposite. At least, that’s how you’re categorizing them. Suddenly the air feels vile, the floor supporting you now trying to swallow you whole. Trap you. Again. You push yourself up onto your palms, wanting to get your face off of and away from the floor. Your legs itch to run. Get to the door. Get out.
But the fear of him catching you is more than enough to keep you down. You’ve tried this before. Look where it got you last time… look where it has you now.
He steps back from Seonghwa, giving him room to get closer to you. The belt lays below him like a snake, curling by his feet. Left without many options, hoping that the rest of the guys will get here sooner rather than later, he slowly picks up the belt. Slower still, he steps towards you, Yunho close behind. Seonghwa’s hands shake.
“What do you want me to do?” He asks, voice hollow and void of any emotion.
Yunho looks down at you as if he’s thinking about it, even though you and Seonghwa both know he made up his mind hours ago. He sighs, like he hates having to make him do this. Unexpectedly, he crouches down next to you.
“Well, that depends on if she wants to be conscious or unconscious for what I do to her.”
You exhale shakily, body trembling underneath the weight of his gaze. Surely what you did wasn’t so bad it would earn you such a harsh correction. And the fact that he is making you choose… oh, that frightens you to no end. He tilts his head to one side, waiting for you to make your choice. Unconsciousness seems like a blessing. A rare show of mercy from him. Whatever happens to you, at least you won’t be awake for it.
“U-un-unconscious,” You manage to stammer out, unable to look him in the eyes for longer than a second at a time. It dawns on you then that you’ll have to deal with however he chooses to get you unconscious… and the fear takes hold of you again. But he grabs Seonghwa by the shirt and pulls him forward, impatient.
“Go on,” he says, glancing at the belt, and then back to you. You can almost see flames in his eyes. Meanwhile, you can see the tears in Seonghwa’s.
“I’m not–” Seonghwa chokes on his own voice, “just kill me, Yunho. Go ahead, just leave her alone.”
Yunho’s anger flares again. When will they fucking learn to not try and dictate how to treat you or what to do with you? As if they know you better than he does. His hand grips the knife tighter, resisting the urge to grant Seonghwa’s wishes and sink it deep into his chest. Mingi’s arm be damned, that will truly send a big fucking message to the rest of the group. But he keeps control of himself, as much as he can.
“Seonghwa, it’s okay,” you hear yourself murmur when he’s close enough to hear. You fully expect a hit for speaking without permission, but surprisingly, Yunho doesn’t do anything like that yet. Instead, he gathers familiar black rope from the nightstand and moves behind you to tie your wrists behind your back. He’s not gentle about it.
Seonghwa’s hands shake uncontrollably as he kneels down in front of you, staring down at the belt in his hands. You make brief eye contact with him, just for a fleeting moment.
You lower your voice, even quieter than before, “I’d rather it be you.”
He bites his lip and squeezes his eyes shut, nodding once. His words from just minutes ago run through your already racing mind: ‘You’re gonna be okay, I promise.’ You wonder if this time, a promise made to you will be kept. It’s highly unlikely.
Seonghwa fights to keep himself together, unable to look at you as he wraps the belt around your neck. Not moving as fast as Yunho would like, he feels the knife press up against the side of his throat as ‘motivation’. It only takes one more bark from Yunho to get him to actually do anything, hatred burning in his heart all the while.
The buckle especially digs in the hardest, cold and unforgiving against your heated skin. Seonghwa’s breath hits your stinging cheek, and you wince, and again when the belt finally tightens, constricting your air from each side of your neck. Instinctually, your hands try to fly up to the leather, wanting to pry it off of you, but the ropes are unrelenting, restricting you completely. Your chest rises and falls rapidly, desperate for a full breath that you know you will not be getting any time soon. Yunho watches you both like a hawk the whole time, tapping the knife against the back of his hand as he waits.
Eyes watering, you blink hard to try and restore your vision as it blurs and darkens. It’s not long before you slump back down to the floor, coughing and thrashing for air. Your legs kick, your back arches, your body tries its best to find air for you, an angle that can allow for breath, but finds none. A strangled cry escapes you, from the very depths of your chest. You can’t see Seonghwa above you anymore. The pressure in your face and head threatens to explode, temples feeling like they’re just about to burst from the tension. One more pathetic wheeze from you, and you fall limp. You stop struggling.
Air is a luxury.
Immediately, Seonghwa yanks the belt away, quickly checking for a pulse. When he finds one still hammering away, he sighs in something like relief. Your chest rises and falls slowly. An angry, deep red ring marrs your neck, cutting into the flushed skin. Internally, he sends you every apology he can, distraught that the others didn’t come before he had to do this to you. Where are they?
Yunho hums as he gets up, nudging your cheek with his shoe to test for any reaction. Your mouth opens slightly. He pauses. Then he stomps on your chest, hard, to check if you’re faking it. You’re not. You don’t respond, but your breathing becomes shorter, more labored. He looks away quickly, blinding himself from how he hurt you, and instead focusing all of his attention back on Seonghwa. He rolls his eyes at his obviously distressed expression, how he can’t bring himself to tear his eyes from you now, in case you stop breathing for good.
“How do you feel, Hwa?” Yunho asks, tilting his head to the side. “Feel like you’re one step ahead of me, still?”
Seonghwa seethes at the question, hands still shaking. The belt, now laying lifeless on the floor next to you, taunts him relentlessly alongside its owner.
Yunho smirks when he doesn’t get a reply, knowing the answer already, and sets about getting everything ready to leave and leave fast. Luckily, he’s practiced this. In case he ever needed to take you out of here at a moment’s notice, he had a system and plan in place. Of course he does. But first, he has to make sure the… anomaly in the room is taken care of.
After more black rope is collected from the nightstand drawer, Yunho turns back to Seonghwa, who isn’t paying much attention to the fact that he is now Yunho’s main focus. No, he’s trapped in himself at the moment, the visual of your eyes looking up at him as the air was choked out of you is branding itself into his memory. Guilt and trauma swarm him, battering his mind from all sides until he almost cannot think of anything else. But what he does catch onto is the fact that… Yunho, though efficient and quick, isn’t acting like he’s about to get caught any second. He acts like he has time. And the more time that passes, the more Seonghwa fears what he could have done to ensure this amount of leisure.
That familiar fear flashes through his mind, the image he’s created in horrific detail of the six others laying dead somewhere. Logically, because of the timing of Hongjoong’s text and when Yunho actually arrived at the apartment, he knows it can’t be true. The thought haunts him anyway. Yunho knows about their plan. He could’ve done anything to prevent them from carrying it out, or at least something to buy himself more time – and he probably doesn’t even have to be there to execute it. Still, he hopes that they’ll show up any second now.
Especially when he sweeps Yunho’s legs out of nowhere, causing him to crash down a little too close to where you lay.
Seonghwa scrambles to his feet, intent on getting the gun again, but as quickly as he was brought down, Yunho is up and grabbing Seonghwa by the shirt. Seonghwa still tries to fight him off, not making it too easy for him anymore. It’s a match he knows he will not win by himself, but at least he’ll be able to say he did something. He made a promise to you. To himself.
Yunho is quick to react, as expected. Before he can blink, he pulls Seonghwa far back from the bag by the back of his shirt, the fabric digging into his throat. Seonghwa shouts once, twisting awkwardly to escape as well as stop the uncomfortable pressure just under his jaw, and stumbles backwards.
Yunho then grabs him by the throat and slams him up against the wall. Twice.
The back of his head hits hard each time, creating a good sized dent in the drywall. The sound echoes throughout the room, vibrating up through the very foundations of the apartment. A crack in the wall explodes upwards and outwards like a bolt of lightning splitting a tree. Seonghwa’s hands go slack on Yunho’s wrists after the first hit. The second hit, they jump off to protect the back of his head from a potential third. Once was enough. Twice is more than necessary.
Though to Yunho, it is entirely justifiable. One for his behavior that night in the living room, and another for trying to take you away from him. Oh yes, he keeps track of every grudge, and he’s patient when it comes to carrying out his revenge. He’s been waiting for a chance to get Seonghwa in here, to reciprocate. To get the last word in an old argument.
Ears ringing and head pounding, Seonghwa’s vision blurs instantly. His body is light and heavy at the same time, and he knows his eyes have gone half-lidded. Second by second, it’s harder for him to stand or even think. His very skull seems to vibrate. There’s a metallic taste in his mouth and a sharp pain to accompany it somewhere on his lip. He must’ve nicked it. His ear feels warm, like when you finally get water out of it. The scariest thing is that his whole body suddenly goes quite cold. Perhaps from shock.
“Move one fucking inch, and I’ll cut your throat.” Yunho snarls, mere inches from his face. The threat is all too real.
Grappling with the hand around his throat, the dizziness intensifies the more he tries to fight Yunho off. But Yunho just waits for the fight to die out on its own… if he can even call it that. Seonghwa merely paws at his hand, a featherlight touch. Yunho knows how hard he hit his head. He knows he doesn’t have to do much to get him to back down again. Nevertheless, he glances at his watch as he holds him up. He’s bought himself time, but not that much. The others will surely be on their way here now.
The buzzing in his ears grows, and Seonghwa slumps to the floor once Yunho releases him, desperate to make the room stop spinning. His arms cover his head to prevent anything else from coming close to it, as well as to try and stabilize himself. He can barely hear himself making pained noises as the throbbing grows. Every vibration from his vocal chords just travels up to his temples, pummeling through his skull. He has a concussion for sure. Slowly, he lowers himself further, laying on his side to try and stop the fogginess he’s experiencing, easing the pressure of keeping his head upright. It’s hard to tell if he’s blacking out or if Yunho is turning off the tealights one by one. Maybe both.
The suitcase is then pulled out from underneath his bed, and he retrieves a rag from one of the zippered compartments, as well as an amber colored bottle, sealed tight. You won’t stay unconscious for long, so it’s necessary. He douses the rag and unceremoniously presses it against your face for a little more than ten seconds. Now you really won’t wake up. Seonghwa can only watch, just barely making out his shadow in the dark. From the bed, he can hear his phone blowing up. It vibrates every two seconds, no doubt from frantic texts and calls from the others. He closes his eyes. Even the dark spins around him. The dizziness ramps up again as he’s moved to lay on his stomach, and he groans into the carpet. He registers how his wrists are tied behind his back, similar to yours, and then he’s pulled up again. A strong wave of nausea rolls through him and it takes everything in him to keep everything in. His body protests loudly at being upright, and the ringing in his ears comes back even louder than before. There’s a loud ripping sound followed by a soft snip, and then pressure against his mouth. It sticks to his skin, and he understands what it is. What remains unclear to him is how much time has passed, he doesn’t even remember Yunho going to get duct tape at all.
When did he get that? He wonders. Did he have it on him? Oh… probably.
Something else is placed over his nose and mouth, looping around his ears. It’s softer, breathable. It rubs up against his cheekbones and the thin skin right under his eyes. He manages to open his eyes just enough to look down to see what it is.
A mask. A clandestine muzzle hiding the real horror beneath. Silenced.
Before he can begin to wonder why he needs one, he is pulled up to his feet. Once more, the room spins, even faster this time and his head feels like it weighs one hundred pounds. As Seonghwa tries to pull himself together, supporting himself by pressing his back against the wall, the next time he looks over towards where you are laying, he only finds carpet. The suitcase is closed. Only an inch or two between zippers to allow some air to circulate into the luggage. Yunho flits about the room in a practiced way. He knows what to do next, the levels of importance of each action, and he carries everything out with precision. Seonghwa opens his eyes again when he hears a sickening crack, catching Yunho breaking his laptop in half over his knee and shoving each piece into Seonghwa’s backpack. The knife he keeps close at hand at all times. Finally, the next instructions from Yunho. Seonghwa feels him place something in one of his tied up hands. A handle of some sort. He hears Yunho talking to him, but everything is muffled, like he’s underwater. There’s a light shove to his shoulder and he takes a step forward. Every step makes him want to collapse and black out, but Yunho has a tight grip on his shirt, pulling him along. When he hears the click of the front door, he understands.
He’s taking us out.
· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·
Hongjoong had barely finished his sentence before Mingi was out the door, so close to forgetting to grab his keys on the way out. He could hear them scrambling behind him, shouting at him to wait for them, but he couldn’t. He wouldn’t, more so.
“Mingi!” San shouts after him, five pairs of footsteps pounding through the dorm and into the hallway after him, “Wait!”
He doesn’t bother waiting around for the elevator, shoving the heavy door at the end of the hall open and flying down the stairs. He knows how much danger you and Seonghwa are in. He knows all too well. He has to get to you two now. That’s all he’s thinking of, even when just mere minutes ago he was taking himself off of the rescue crew entirely. Now, he’s voluntarily on the front lines.
When he finally gets to the bottom level, throwing open the door that leads into the parking garage, he beelines right to their shared car – only to find the tires slashed. Hongjoong’s car is no different. The rest of the boys nearly run over each other, standing behind Mingi as he tries to process what he’s seeing. It all but confirms their worst fear.
Yunho was here.
Like taking a picture and only seeing the unsettling figure behind you when you look at it later, they somehow missed his wrath here. But only by so much. The distance between them is no longer somewhat comforting, it is now too close to home. Abruptly so as well.
And not a moment later, red and blue lights flash in alternative succession, rounding the corner and pulling up right in front of them. The loud whooping sound of the siren deafens them, echoing around the garage.
If they were pale before, they’re practically the same shade as the snow outside now. They turn into the complete opposite of how they were acting before: stunned into stillness, silent and mortified.
Is it really going to end like this?
The sedan crawls to a stop, lights still on. All six of them wait for more to show up. They can’t possibly be taking them all inside one police car. Mingi takes one step back, agitated and cornered. Yeosang grabs the back of Jongho’s sweatshirt. Wooyoung is convinced a puff of wind could easily cause him to collapse, so he stands closer to San. Hongjoong steels himself as the car engine is cut and the silence and the smell of tires and gasoline wafts through the air.
Two officers step out of the vehicle, closing their doors and walking at a normal if not slow pace towards the group. One of their radios chirps, and a muffled, loud voice within it relays a code that he doesn’t respond to.
“Hello,” one greets them with a slight bow, surprising the group even more. The officer hesitates before continuing, noting their noticeably shocked expressions as odd. “I’m Officer Shin, this is Officer Nam. We got a call that someone slashed your tires. Are these the vehicles?”
Hongjoong doesn’t understand a word that the officer says at first. It doesn’t process. None of it is what he was expecting to hear. He follows the direction of where the officer is pointing, expecting it to be on one of the members. But it’s not. He’s clearly gesturing towards the two cars. It still doesn’t make sense.
Evidently, everyone seems to be in the same boat in terms of confusion.
“What?” Wooyoung asks, his disbelief making itself known.
“I– we–” San tries to speak, but gives up halfway, looking to Hongjoong. They don’t even need to make eye contact with each other to know which question they all want to ask.
Do we tell them now?
Mingi seems to answer before the rest of them can.
“Yeah, but it’s okay. We don’t want to file charges, it’s okay.” He does a bad job of hiding how urgently he wants to get out of here.
Officer Nam raises an eyebrow at his tone, but says nothing yet. Instead, he moves closer to the cars to inspect the damage done. One stab to all four tires on both vehicles, with a large, sharp weapon of some kind. Each cut is almost surgical in their precision, in the same exact place on all eight. Like they had to be.
Officer Shin is understandably perplexed. “You–? These tires have been obviously slashed, are you sure you don’t–”
“We’re sure,” Jongho cuts in, glancing at Mingi and Hongjoong from the corner of his eye. “It’s fine.”
“Do you know who did this?” Officer Nam puts the pieces together, turning towards the group.
Now here’s a test for honesty.
Yes, they do fucking know. In fact, they don’t even need to see video evidence to know with one-hundred percent certainty who did this, and who called the police to ensure that they would be delayed and not be able to get to the apartment in time. It’s rather debilitating. Actually, incredibly debilitating. Gutting that they continue to be three steps behind him always.
But if they say yes, they’ll have to explain. And they just do not have the time to. Informing the police was always the plan, and Yunho has thrown that right in their faces. I got them for you, go ahead. He’s giving them an ultimatum. Tell them now, watch them go by the book and take their time step by step while you and Seonghwa are in immediate danger. The type that will not wait for them.
They want the police involved? Well, here they are.
There’s a painful stab in Mingi’s chest that won’t go away the longer they idle around. And it’s about ready to burst if he doesn’t get out of here in the next two seconds. He inches further away.
“Can we just come by the station later?” Jongho says with a little too much force behind it, his exasperation managing to break through.
The two policemen look at each other.
“Are you guys too busy or something?” Officer Nam questions, specifically looking towards Mingi now.
Both Jongho and Mingi open their mouths to say something, but Hongjoong beats them to it.
“I’ll stay,” he says. The accompanying look he gives the rest of the group tells them outright that they better not waste time arguing with him on this. It’ll only waste time they can’t afford to lose. “I’ll handle it. You guys go.”
Mingi meets Hongjoong’s gaze, an unspoken thankfulness for his volunteering in his eyes that he hopes comes across clearly.
Then San speaks up, tearing his gaze from the slashed tires. He feels rather uneasy about anybody being left by themselves when they don’t know where exactly Yunho is, or what his plans are. They all have to stay together. Someone has to stay with Hongjoong.
“I’ll stay too.” He says, avoiding looking at Wooyoung. Between Yeosang, Mingi, and Jongho, San knows he’ll be safe. “We’ll be there soon.”
Hongjoong doesn’t question his decision, but can’t hide the initial combination of surprise and confusion on his face.
When no one moves yet, Hongjoong raises his voice louder than they’ve heard him in the past few months. “Go!”
No sooner had the word left Hongjoong’s lips than the four of them finally took off in a sprint. The echo chases them out onto the streets, disappearing into the wind.
If they can’t drive, they’ll run.
Thankfully, no one is out at this hour, so they don’t have to weave through any crowds of people. What they do have to worry about is the ice and snow on the ground. Even then, they run like it's spring. Their feet pound over the covered pavement, only slowing slightly to turn corners. The wind at their backs only carries them further. Faster. The only obstacle is distance.
They can only hope that Yunho has become too confident, too sure in himself that he chooses to take his time going to the apartment. But Mingi knows him best. You are Yunho’s first priority, his main responsibility and prize. He will do anything to prevent you from being taken from him. Even if it means ultimately killing you.
Wooyoung and Jongho follow the others deep into the city, not as familiar with the route as the rest of them. But they’ve been down these streets before, they recognize the stores and street names that lead the way towards this apartment they have only ever heard about before. Jongho stops caring if his sweatshirt hood stays on his head as they fly over a crosswalk, it’s a losing battle, one he doesn’t care enough to keep up with. Wooyoung nearly knocks into him as he slips on ice, momentarily losing his footing and side-stepping into the snow.
“Come on!” Yeosang shouts over the wind, grabbing Wooyoung’s hand to help him keep up.
Mingi only runs faster once the tall, familiar building comes into view, just down the street. One more block. The others pick up speed as well. Their feet barely touch the ground. One more crosswalk.
He hears Jongho yelling his name just in time to become more aware of his surroundings, a hand yanking him back from the road as a large black car speeds past, only two feet from Mingi. A few of them grumble at the reckless driver, muttering under their uneven breaths as they resume their race down the street – this time, checking for potential cars.
Soon enough, they file into the lobby. The warm air of the building’s interior stings their skin as their bodies adjust to the sudden change in temperature. They make wary glances over towards the receptionist, but she pays them no mind, only glancing up once in well-suppressed confusion at their presence here at such an hour before letting it go, and going back to whatever she is watching on her tablet. Probably just a late-night party or something, she figures. Not exactly accurate.
Once they reach the elevator, Mingi hesitates. Only now does he stop to think, to consider everything that may happen. How you may react to seeing him again since that day. Facing Yunho again.
Yeosang surges forward and presses the button to call the elevator down, giving him a weird look. Why, of all times and places, would he hesitate here?
The elevator takes about four hundred years to lower down to the lobby level, but boasts its emptiness upon arrival. Once all four pile into the elevator car and the doors close, now the dread kicks in. The claustrophobia, as well as rising towards something they may not be ready for all hit at once in the silence. In here, they can do nothing but wait after almost ten minutes of steady adrenaline. Yeosang’s eyes never leave the little screen that shows which floors they are passing, the numbers increasing rapidly. The higher they rise up, the lower their hearts sink.
An automated voice announcing ‘Floor 20’ nearly makes them all jump out of their skin.
Last to go in, Wooyoung and Jongho step out first, but hang back, not knowing which way to go. The group follows Mingi, no longer at a run now that the door is in view. He can’t tell if it is a good sign or a bad sign that he can’t hear anything coming from the apartment. He’s learned his lesson about cautious optimism before. There is scarcely any room for it here.
Now, not four feet from the door, he stops again, looking the Ring camera dead in the eye. It has probably already alerted Yunho of their movement. Evidently thinking the same thing, Yeosang turns around for a couple seconds, literally watching their backs for an attack from behind.
“Min?” Wooyoung asks, anxious to continue. He and Jongho exchange a look.
Mingi shifts his weight, the very door mocking him, daring him to open it and see what fate lies beyond it. However, contrary to what the rest of the boys think, he’s not afraid to go in. He’s afraid of what may happen to them, if Yunho is in there. Suddenly, he feels how Hongjoong must have felt about sending them on without him. He’s probably worrying himself out of his mind right now.
Mingi turns to face them.
“I think only me and Yeosang should go in.”
Immediately, the quiet uproar.
“Are you fucking kidding me?” Quips Jongho, hands balling into fists. “This shit again?”
“But Hongjoong said–” Wooyoung protests.
Frustrated that he can’t quickly or articulately put into words why he’s telling them to do this, Mingi snaps, “I know what Hongjoong said! But now I’m telling you: stay out here for now.”
“No, he’s right,” Yeosang says. “Just for this part. If she’s still in there, it’s better if she recognizes the people taking her out. If everything is clear, we’ll call you in. It has to be this way.”
The two of them simmer. It’s so hard to argue with Yeosang because they know he only says what is worth saying in serious situations. Additionally, they have to remember it’s not just Yunho and Seonghwa, but also you they have to take into consideration. They don’t know you at all apart from what they’ve heard from the others, and what they’ve unknowingly seen in the group chat. If Yeosang agrees that this is the best way to handle it by just the two of them entering first, then so be it.
“Fine. But you tell us the second you think something is off.” Jongho relents, his tone quiet but firm.
Mingi and Yeosang nod before turning back to the door.
“Still have the key?” Mingi whispers, prompting Yeosang to dig in his pocket.
“Right here,” Yeosang whispers back, showing him before taking a step closer to the door. He too looks right into the Ring camera for a split second before averting his gaze. If Yunho wasn’t alerted now, he definitely is about to be once the door opens.
He knocks in four – the same rhythmic pattern they agreed upon a week earlier.
Only their breaths fill the hallway, still cooling down from their sprint. Besides that, the entire building seems to go silent. Yeosang’s hand shakes as the key slots into place easily, and he holds his breath when it turns, the lock clicking quietly. Mingi catches the door as he initially opens it, going in first, Yeosang following close behind. Wooyoung cranes his neck to catch a glimpse of a place he and Jongho have only heard of, only seeing it in their nightmares. Jongho keeps his eye on the hallway behind them, waiting.
The eerie pitch dark of the apartment swallows both men whole as they step into it, prompting Yeosang to take his phone out to switch on the flashlight feature. The interior becomes even more creepy and ghostlike like this. Shadows play tricks on them as they move further inside.
Even now, there’s nothing. No clear sign of life whatsoever, but they check anyway. Mingi switches on the hallway light – there’s no harm in doing so. If Yunho is in fact in here, he knows they’re inside already anyway. Yeosang relaxes a little bit with the aid of the overhead light, pocketing his phone alongside the key.
The door to the bedroom is closed.
Mingi’s throat tightens.
“Seonghwa?” Yeosang whispers, daring to softly knock on the door as he opens it as slow as possible so he doesn’t potentially frighten you if you’re in there. “It’s us.”
The light from the hallway floods the room, casting a spotlight on a chaotic scene. Rumpled bedsheets, faint dirty shoeprints, discoloration on the carpet near the bed, nightstand drawer pulled open, closet door left open as well, Yunho’s belt discarded on the floor. And above all else, more importantly, no sign of you or Seonghwa.
Mingi’s mouth dries instantly, desperately looking around on the extremely low chance he just missed both of you somehow. He pushes the bathroom door open only to find the same result. Nobody there. Just the map of shoeprints, walking in and out of each room.
“Bring them in,” he instructs Yeosang, who quickly jogs back to the front door.
Standing in the middle of the chaos, he reaches over to turn the lamp on. When he hears the group enter through the front door, he turns to call out to them, but something catches his eye before it can be said. For a moment, he wonders if it’s just his eyes adapting. Another shadowy trick of the light, perhaps. But he moves closer, and it doesn’t fade away or turn into anything else other than what it is.
A large dent in the wall. Almost eye level to him. Small, dark red traces paint the very center of the cracked drywall. His eyes trail downward to the floor, a few drops of blood spotting the carpet, mainly staying in this one area. If he didn’t feel sick before, he definitely does now. That small crater is about Seonghwa’s height.
“God dammit…” he mutters under his breath, his body beginning to shake.
Yeosang hurries back into the bedroom, hesitating in the doorway once he sees Mingi. He calls his name, but gets no response.
They can both hear Wooyoung talking to Jongho in the living room. “I don’t–” he breathes, “I don’t get it, his location says he’s here.”
Below them, a police car howls into the night, speeding away from their location, a firetruck following suit. Yeosang must have seen the indentation in the wall as well because Mingi hears him gasp and swear loudly upon first glance. Yeosang backs up once he sees the blood and his hands fly up to either side of his head, careful not to touch anything. He shouts for the others to do the same, to just stay where they are and to not move, use, or touch anything. In fact, it’s best if they don’t even breathe in here. The whole place is a crime scene.
A low buzzing sound draws both of their attention towards the bed.
Wooyoung enters the bedroom, inching past Yeosang in the doorway, staring quizzically at his phone before showing it to him. He’s calling Seonghwa.
Mingi reaches over, moving the bed sheets around until the vibrations become clearer, revealing Seonghwa’s phone hidden under a pillow. This, and the blood, confirms it. Yunho took both of them.
Mingi snaps all at once.
“God dammit!” He yells, throwing the phone back onto the pillow with such force that it just bounces right off, onto the floor below. “Fuck!”
Yeosang tries to calm him down, but he knows it's like being assigned the task of trying to calm a grizzly bear. Jongho hurries down the hallway to see what happened to warrant such a reaction. Once he steps foot into the room, his eyes take in everything. This is the room he’s heard about the most – and has actually seen, as well, although he wasn't aware at the time.
It’s rare for any of them to see Mingi break down, especially at this level. He sits on the edge of the bed, trying to breathe normally, head in his hands with Yeosang right by his side, trying his best to be his usual helpful and caring self when he too is terrified at what this could mean.
They’re too late. Despite their best efforts, they continue to fail. And they fail not just themselves, but you and Seonghwa as well. If they had left just a minute earlier, maybe they could’ve intercepted Yunho. It’s a long shot, but all Mingi can think about are the dozens of scenarios that could have played out had one thing been done differently. If he was smarter, he would’ve thought to check for a fucking bug on his phone. Or San’s. He should’ve known to look, to be overly cautious. But he can’t change the past. What’s done is done.
Wooyoung and Jongho all react similarly to Yeosang once they see the large depression in the wall. The blood, particularly. Jongho tightens his jaw, determined to not let his emotions get in the way of what needs to be done next, whatever that may be. Wooyoung holds himself in a self-hug.
“Th– the blood is still fresh,” he says to no one in particular, just stating a fact in hopes that someone will listen to him. “This must’ve only happened recently. Wherever they’re going, we won’t be too far behind.”
Yeosang looks over at him, and then the darkening red dots that stain the carpet before turning back to Mingi, placing his hand on his back and leaning down to speak to him quietly.
“Min,” he says, “you know Yunho better than any of us. Where would he take them?”
It’s not like he has to think about it too hard. He knows exactly where Yunho would take the two of you. That’s the problem. He knows this routine, he’s ran it before. Once they get there, everything happens quickly. Mere minutes could be the difference between saving you and Seonghwa, and…
Mingi clears his throat, interrupting the thought before it can finish. He straightens, lowering his hands to his lap.
“I know where they’re going,” he says, keeping his eyes down. The boys all exchange glances, waiting for more. “But we need a car to get there.”
“Shit…” Wooyoung hisses, scrambling to pull his phone out of his pocket to call Hongjoong. With all eyes on him, he feels the pressure rising. With a tap, he puts the call on speaker so they can all hear.
The call rings just once before Hongjoong picks up. Wooyoung doesn’t even let him say ‘hello’ before speaking.
“Hyung? Can you ask San to go to the company and take one of the vans here? Do you need the address again?” Wooyoung looks up at Mingi to confirm that he’ll text Hongjoong the address before refocusing back on the call.
On the other line, Hongjoong has already taken off running before he finishes the last question.
“Yeah, send it,” he pants, the cold wind making it harder to breathe, going against it. “We’ll be there soon.”
The word choice is not lost on Wooyoung.
“‘We’?” He clarifies, hoping he heard him correctly. Yeosang perks up.
“Yeah, we got out of it, like, two minutes ago. Don’t worry about it. Is everyone okay?”
Wooyoung looks around at the others, mouth open to reply but stops short when his eye catches on the dent in the wall again. He swallows hard. He hasn’t thought about how Hongjoong will react to the fact that Seonghwa is both injured and gone.
He stammers a little before clearing his throat.
“Hyung…” Wooyoung trails off.
Yeosang stands up, taking the phone from him. They can all hear Hongjoong trying to get an answer from them, evidently slowing down. In the background, they hear San’s voice, distant and muffled, calling for him to keep running.
“Hyung, they're both gone.”
Wooyoung winces at the blunt delivery of the news. Even Jongho inhales sharply through his teeth, whispering frantically to him to say it another way. Mingi stiffens, awaiting the response.
“W-who– what do you mean?” Hongjoong’s voice crackles through the speaker.
“There’s… there’s no one in the apartment. He took Seonghwa too.”
There’s a longer pause this time, San’s voice intermittently interrupting the silence as Hongjoong processes what he’s just been told. He sniffs and clears his throat.
“We’ll be there in ten.”
The call ends there, Hongjoong hanging up first. Cautious relief eases the tension in Wooyoung’s shoulders, knowing that at least they’re safe and on their way. However, now the four of them just have to… wait here.
Jongho stays near the door, not exactly keen on venturing any further into this room. Every so often he looks down the hallway, towards the front door, just to make sure that it’s still closed and locked, as they had left it after entering.
Yeosang hands Mingi the phone to text the address after he checks it for the time. Almost five minutes after three. Wired, he gets up with no specific directive in mind. He just needs to pace, do something to put all this pent up energy. He goes into the bathroom, checking to see if they missed anything important in there, but finds nothing. Only a strong chemical scent near the sink where a rag has been unceremoniously tossed into. He leans forward to see if that’s where the smell is coming from before recoiling immediately upon verification. Yep. That’s it.
“Fuckin’ hell…” he mutters, rubbing his nose like that will help get the scent out of it quicker. Definitely something chemical, which would explain the odd discoloration in the carpet if some of it had gotten onto the floor. But what it is exactly, he isn’t sure.
Keeping that in the back of his mind, he reenters the bedroom again, just in time to see Wooyoung about to pick something up off of the floor.
“Hey, don’t touch anything,” Jongho warns.
Wooyoung’s hand snaps back to his side. “Min,” he calls, “do you know what this is?”
Mingi stands, walking around the bed over to where Wooyoung is.
Ah.
Yes, he does.
“Oh,” he falters slightly, “that’s uh– her journal.”
“Definitely don’t touch it.” Jongho says, watching the front door again.
Yeosang rubs the back of his neck, nose still burning slightly. He checks the time again. Time seems to be going at supersonic speed, while simultaneously dragging out every single second as much as it can. Only two – now, three – minutes have passed since he last checked. He wonders how long it will take Hongjoong and San to get here. Mingi is probably wondering the same thing.
Wooyoung straightens up, his eyes stay locked on the journal. It’s splayed face down on the floor, partially hidden by the duvet. The damn thing seems to have some sort of magnetic pull surrounding it. Or maybe it’s just curiosity, the chance to know more about this girl he knows barely anything about, to be on the same page as everyone else. He’s tired of not knowing.
But Mingi picks it up, the pages fluttering in the air.
“Min–” Jongho starts, about to go off on him for touching it when he just said they shouldn’t.
Mingi just waves him off, “My fingerprints are already all over the apartment.”
The three other men look at each other, but choose to say nothing about it. It’s not like they didn’t know, but hearing it said so bluntly is rather disquieting. It shocks them back into reality. The reality that tomorrow morning, all of them will be answering dozens, hundreds of questions in separate rooms with their lawyers, and they’ll never be able to be a group again. Yeosang touches where his ring used to be. It’s strange to feel nothing there.
Mingi places the journal down on the bed, his hand lingering a little too long.
He wonders if you found the note.
He hid it again after he found it underneath the couch. Yunho would’ve definitely found it there had he searched the living room a little too closely. That’s why Mingi volunteered to do the living room. Knowing you were next, he hid it in hopes that you would find it, and try to get out. He would’ve helped you. That was honest.
Or maybe just wishful thinking. Maybe he would’ve only thought of helping you, but ultimately decided to stay by Yunho. Continue to be his little aid. It’s hard to tell what he would’ve done if it had come down to it… but he likes to think he would’ve been stronger than he has been in the past. There’s really no telling. Maybe, if you’re saved tonight, that will prove something.
Maybe.
The minutes drag and carry new scenarios with them, all insinuating what will happen if they’re too late. Even without a car, Mingi feels like he can sprint all the way out there no problem. There’s certainly enough adrenaline in his system to do so. He knows the fastest way to get to you and Seonghwa, though, is to wait for the van, but it’s like a new form of torture to hurry up and wait. All of them are getting close to bouncing off the walls, besides Yeosang, who somehow manages to consistently keep his cool. Mingi often wonders how the hell he’s able to do that, and especially now.
But if he really lets himself think about it, he’ll know the answer: because he has to.
In a room full of chaos, there has to be someone who can regulate everyone else and be thinking clearly. If it has to be Yeosang, he’ll take up the responsibility quietly and efficiently. That’s just how he is. It’s why most of the members have always gone to him or Seonghwa when stressed, they know they’ll leave their company feeling better than they did initially, set on the right path, whatever it may look like.
Even if Mingi can see the stress weaving itself through Yeosang’s features, he’ll never truly let it show. It’ll never be obvious.
A shrill ring startles all four men before they each realize what it is – Wooyoung’s phone ringing again. He holds it up to his ear and mutters a greeting, pausing as whoever is on the other line speaks to him. Mingi steps closer to him, something rising up his spine, ready to act within a moment’s notice.
Quickest phone call ever, Wooyoung hangs up hastily before looking up at the others.
“They’re here!” He announces, already starting to book it out of the room, bumping into Jongho on his way out.
The energy bursts once again, all four of them scrambling towards the front door. Mingi and Wooyoung run straight to the elevator, calling it back up to this floor, while Jongho hangs back with Yeosang, waiting for him to lock the door again. Just as they rejoin the other two, the elevator arrives with a cheerful ding! They pile in, and down they go again.
The farther down the elevator takes them, the more Jongho realizes how less tense he’s becoming. He didn’t think being in the apartment would affect him this much, but here’s the proof. He doesn’t even realize that his hands had been balled into fists the entire time they were in there. His joints ache something terrible as he opens them back up again. In front of him, Wooyoung exhales a big puff of air, shaking a similar feeling off as well.
Another ding! and they’re at ground level once more. They can’t get away fast enough, running back out onto the streets like they’re being chased. This time, the front desk attendant does watch them for longer. Her eyes trace their hurried path from the moment the elevator doors opened, all the way to the lobby door. She sees the frightened looks as they pass by, and how quickly they look away when they notice she’s watching them. She jots down the time, making a note of the suspicious behavior and debates checking the CCTV cameras around the building. This could all just be paranoia; working the overnight shift anywhere as a woman, you’re bound to run into odd situations such as this, but there’s something about it that doesn’t sit right.
A group of guys sprinting like their lives depend on it in and out of the lobby at three in the morning is hardly ever for a good reason.
She shakes her head, going back to watching the drama on her tablet. If working the night shift has taught her anything, it’s to not get involved.
Outside, the group rushes to the familiar black van parked right in front of the building, engine humming, ready to race to wherever you and Seonghwa are. Mingi knocks on the driver window, and steps back when the door opens.
“Hyung, let me drive,” he says, not even hiding his impatience.
Hongjoong nods, unbuckling quickly and hopping out, moving to stand next to Yeosang, who awaits his turn to pile into the car. He almost jumps a mile when he feels Yeosang touch his shoulder.
“You okay?”
He shakes his head, honest. “It doesn’t matter if I am.”
And with that, he climbs into the van, Yeosang following right after. The door barely closes before they’re speeding off, most likely breaking several traffic laws to get out of the city. Multiple times, San almost yells at him to ‘slow down’, but he keeps his mouth shut. They can’t afford to lose any more time than they already have, and San doesn’t think that saying that to Mingi will do any good anyways.
Darkened buildings turn into highways and then into trees. Seoul falls away behind them, the lights of an alive city diminishing in the rearview mirror, plunging the interior of the car into the thick, black night. The only light comes from occasional oncoming cars in the lane next to them, and the center display of the car. If they all weren’t so wired, they could probably fall asleep right now. Only Mingi knows how far of a drive it is, not really needing the GPS until they get off the highway.
No one speaks.
What can they say to ignore the violent imagery that haunts them all, fearing what they’ll roll up to upon arrival. Again, only Mingi knows the extent, the details, of what it will look like for sure if they’re too late. Seonghwa is a wild card, though. This hasn’t happened before, and Mingi has no idea what Yunho will do with him. But the fact that he is not one hundred percent sure that Yunho won’t kill him, doesn’t make him rest easy whatsoever.
Nearing almost ninety miles per hour, flying down the empty highway, he tries to prepare himself for any outcome, any end. Only one side will survive the night. It is all or nothing. And he has to come to terms that no matter who succeeds, he is losing Yunho one way or another.
And you, well… he never had you to lose in the first place, did he?
But his mind keeps conjuring images of what may happen to you tonight. He absolutely hates to hope for this, but if Yunho does decide to kill you, he hopes he shoots you. He hopes you go quickly, if you have to. The alternative, he cannot bear to picture for too long. The memory of Haneul torments him, breathing in and choking on dirt as he shoveled more on top of her, still alive.
He pushes the gas pedal down, accelerating a bit more.
· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·
You can’t breathe.
Everything feels heavy, and the freezing air weighs you down as well. Your hands try to press against whatever you’re laying on, but only strain against the rope that binds them together. Your face burns again, and your eyes somehow feel sore. Every muscle in your face and neck is tender, aching with every miniscule movement. There’s a sharp, bruising pain in the center of your chest as well as your back, and a headache that makes you wish you were dead. Something snaps underneath you and for a minute you wonder if you just broke a bone somehow, but feel no additional pain. Fighting through the ache to open your eyes, you can’t see too much anyway – only shadows and blurry shapes. Nothing definite.
But you can hear.
Something repeatedly strikes the ground close enough to you that you can feel the vibrations of it. A groan only gets halfway out, the pain in your throat too much to bear. Muffled, distant voices like two people talking in another room confuse you on where the sound is coming from.
You just want to go back to sleep, blissfully ignorant to what is happening around you, and numb to the pain.
That’s when the wind hits you.
Your eyes squeeze shut as a chill shudders through your body, freezing you to the very core. Once you begin to shake, you can’t stop. The cold gnaws at every inch of your body, unavoidable and impossible to ignore. Your hands are almost numb, a sharp pain in each of your fingertips that makes you ball them up into fists to restore some warmth in them. It doesn’t help much. Every joint feels rusted, unable to move without difficulty. You try to open your eyes again, feeling the wind slice across your cheek.
Overhead, the clouded night sky loosens its grip, allowing the black to shift into a deep indigo. The trees reach high above, quietly waiting for the sunlight to return. Billions of tiny crystal flakes float down around you, dotting your frozen hair, covering your body like a secret. A secret the forest knows to keep. It knows Yunho well by now, the routine is always the same. The frozen ground gives the shovel no hindrance, ready to conceal another one of you.
Against the all-encompassing pain, you manage to lift your head up, blinking away the snow and the blurriness.
And you know exactly where you are.
Even though the ground is covered, the clearing in the forest is all too familiar. The reality drowns you in waves, one harrowing memory after another, unrelenting. The scent of sap and bark wafts on the wind, invading your nose and mouth. Suddenly you feel held down, even though no one is near you. You can’t move, paralyzed by fear, trapped by the trauma of last time. One part of Mingi’s overheard admission crosses your mind: “I can’t believe you took her there… bringing her to the same place you put the others in.”
Black, lumbering trees shield you from the moon’s watchful eye. Away from sight, far from any help.
Help… Seonghwa. Where is Seonghwa?
You turn slowly to the left, wincing from how much everything hurts. Your shoulder digs into the snow, rapidly soaking through the fabric of your thin sweater. That dull thudding sound next to you stops momentarily. A hissing voice is quick to reprimand, to make whatever it is continue. Snow crunches underfoot somewhere behind you, near your head.
Through the dark and what little moonlight is allowed to filter down through the trees, you catch a glimpse of Seonghwa. You can’t really tell what he’s doing, nor can you see his face. What you think is just shadow is really the mask, working together with the duct tape hidden underneath to keep him quiet. From what you can see, only his shoulders and up, he’s shivering as well, breathing heavily but staying quiet. Occasionally, he sniffles, and you can’t tell if it’s because of the cold, or if it’s because he’s crying.
Your head lolls to the side, the left side of your face stinging in the snow, but you ignore it as best as you can, only one goal in mind: get water. You mouth at the snow, shoulders tensing at the freezing temperature on your tongue and against your teeth, throat shrieking in protest at first before finally relaxing again, soothed by the melted snow.
The moon shifts, its light breaking through the thicket, making it easier to see Seonghwa. You thought he was kneeling down or something, explaining why he was so low to the ground, but you realize that he’s in some sort of pit. A metallic sound strikes the earth and dirt lifts up and is tossed over his shoulder, trying his best to aim away from you. But the wind is less forgiving, blowing some of it into your face. You fight the urge to jerk away from the discomfort.
He’s digging… why is he digging? Where is Yunho?
You don’t stay curious for long.
You sharply inhale when he makes eye contact, and he immediately tenses at the sight of you awake again. It’s clear he wants to say something, but he looks off to his right, somewhere behind you, and thinks twice about it. He glances at you one more time.
“That’s enough,” Yunho says, too close for comfort.
Seonghwa places the shovel down before wearily pushing himself up, which takes some effort. Yunho does nothing to help. He merely watches as Seonghwa struggles to get himself out of what he’s just dug.
A hole in the earth that was waist-deep on him. The way he looked at you… you know what it is.
Yunho’s promise to you in the forest races through your mind: ‘Next time, I’ll do it for real.’ Well, ‘next time’ has officially come. You’re here again… and you know you’re not leaving this forest alive.
A useless scream builds and gets stuck in your throat. You know damn well that it won’t help you, it won’t change anything. It’s natural though, when you don’t feel ready to go just yet. Justified. But you allow tears to flow, keeping quiet, trying to come to terms with your fate. You don’t want to die. You can’t bear the weight of the gun pressed against the back of your head again – you’re sure that you will scream if you feel that again. Yunho’s done with you. He’s abandoning you.
And he made Seonghwa dig your grave.
If your eyesight wasn’t obstructed before, the tears make everything even more blurry. But you’re able to see Yunho pick up the shovel, tossing it far away so Seonghwa doesn’t get a stupid idea to try and fight him with it – even though Seonghwa is in no condition to try and fight anybody right now. He was barely able to dig. Now out of the grave, he sits in the snow across from you, the earth, from his viewpoint, spinning wildly. He grits his teeth and furrows his eyebrows as he raises a hand to his head, trying to ease the dizziness. He’s exhausted and frozen, not to mention utterly terrified.
As far as he knows, this is a grave meant for two.
Yunho stalks around the grave, assessing it. You and Seonghwa both watch him, waiting for his next move.
The world holds its breath when he finally sighs. The kind that triggers a reaction, something to delay whatever it is he’s about to make Seonghwa do next.
Muzzled still, his words are garbled and unintelligible under the tape and mask. Yunho rolls his eyes, clearly fed up, and you wonder if Seonghwa had tried to speak to him on the drive over here. You both tense as he walks over to Seonghwa, ripping the mask and tape off in one go. Seonghwa bites back a pained noise, not wanting to give him the satisfaction.
“What do y–” Yunho begins to say.
“Yun, don’t do this.” Seonghwa speaks before he can finish, his voice soft. It takes a lot of energy and effort to talk at all, add in the freezing temperatures and he’s already winded.
“Don’t tell me what to do.” Yunho fires back, a hardened edge to his tone. His biggest pet peeve struck – someone telling him what to do, how to do something, or how to handle you. His fist clenches around the mask, crumpling it. “You’re done. Just sit there and look pretty. Isn’t that what you’re good at?”
Seonghwa’s lips part, genuinely hurt by his words.
“Don’t give me that fuckin’ look,” Yunho rolls his eyes again. “You think I want to be the bad guy?”
“No, but I think you enjoy it.” Seonghwa hisses.
Now it’s Yunho’s turn to be taken aback. He pauses, digesting Seonghwa’s retort. You whimper as another forceful wind cuts across your face, unable to breathe until it dies down. Both men hear you.
Seonghwa continues while he has the opportunity to, making Yunho focus on him instead of you. He plays to his ego, his complex.
“Yunho, you’ve already won. You knew what we were planning, you proved your superiority. You don’t have to kill her.”
“No?” Yunho asks incredulously.
You look up from the ground at the mention of you. The first thing you see is the gun in Yunho’s hand, glinting in what limited moonlight it catches on, and black rope on the ground by his feet. The knife is probably somewhere on his person. The gun taunts you like an old enemy. One you thought you had escaped before, only to be right back where it nearly destroyed you in the first place. A villain in and of itself, harboring unfinished business with you. Your skin crawls, a thousand knives pricking you all over your body.
Now every slight lift or twitch of his hands could be your end. You watch him closer than ever before, eyes wide so as to not miss a single thing like a viper has been placed in front of you, and you’re waiting for it to strike.
Yunho doesn’t look at you at all. In fact he turns away from you completely so as not to be tempted to even glance in your direction, focusing solely on Seonghwa instead. Truthfully, you’re relieved… and devastated.
But it’s like he can’t bear to see you like this. Hurting and cold in a heap behind him. Unwilling to accept his own rules and self-tailored morals just yet. If he doesn’t kill you, what does that say about him? About everything? It means he’s gone soft, easy on you. It’ll show you that you can bend his rules, know about a plan where the only goal is to take you away from him and not tell him about it for a whole month, misbehave, and there’ll be no consequences.
He’s killed others for less.
He looks deep into the grave that already has a thin blanket of snow beginning to cover the bottom of it. Deeper than the others. He’d made it this way, fresh off of the plane, making this the first place he came to after retrieving his car from the lot. A headstart, if you will, knowing that he’d be racing against the rest of the guys later. Two steps ahead.
Arriving here later tonight, he decided that it wasn’t deep enough to hide you. Possessive even in death, he wants no one to be able to find you, even if he’ll never admit that that is why he had Seonghwa dig deeper than Mingi was ever made to. Two feet deeper.
Still, he has to look away from it, knowing that’s where he has to put you soon.
At least you’re making it easy for him – staying quiet, not begging him for your life. You hadn’t done that last time he brought you here either. You were good.
Almost perfect.
Yunho’s throat constricts, and he has to tilt his head back slightly to try and ease it. What the hell is wrong with him?
Seonghwa sniffles again, trying to come up with anything to make him stay this execution. He doubles down on what he knows he wants: the fantasy. “Please, Yun,” he begs, “we’ll back down. We’ll do whatever you want.”
“Oh, now you want to listen to me,” Yunho sighs, cocking the gun. A zap of lightning shoots up your spine at the horribly familiar sound. “If you guys had just accepted it on day one, I wouldn’t have had to do all of this bullshit!”
“Yun–”
Click. “Shut the fuck up.”
Seonghwa looks directly into the barrel of the gun, pointing right at his forehead. He lowers his head, sobs wracking through him. The mental, emotional, and physical exhaustion all catching up to him at once. The pressure in his head feels like it’s on the verge of imploding, and he has to catch himself on the ground as the world begins to spin again.
Then, a voice. Meek and raspy, coming from behind Yunho.
“Daddy…”
He lowers the gun. Seonghwa fights to look up at you, squinting through the dark.
Yunho slowly turns to you. He’s not entirely sure if he actually heard you or not. You’re still curled up, shivering only a few feet from the grave. Although he doesn’t pay much attention to this thought, he does hope you don’t say anything stupid. Anything that won’t make him have to bury you before you’re dead.
Really, you have no big speech or any kind of plan in mind, you just wanted him to stop pointing the gun at Seonghwa. You don’t know what’s wrong with him, but it’s clear that he’s been injured in some way. Now, with both of their attentions on you, you realize you have to keep going. The trees listen in, and even the wind dies down.
The floor is yours.
You look up at him, using your legs and core to push yourself up out of the snow with much difficulty and pain. Even in the darkness you can see his lips part, and he takes a half-step towards you like he wants to help. But he holds himself back.
“Daddy, you’re…” you cough even though it feels like lighting a fire in your throat and chest, “You’re right. M-Mingi told me about their plan to get me out, b-but I promise I didn’t know it w-was st-still happening. I’m-m sorry, Daddy.”
Once you’re done talking, another violent shudder runs through you like the cold had waited until you were finished. This one lasts longer, pulling quiet whimpers from you again. You tuck your knees closer into your chest, but it doesn’t help too much. All you want to do is go to sleep. Temporarily or forever, you don’t care which one anymore.
Yunho shifts his weight from one foot to another. He makes you wait. He makes Seonghwa wait, who appears to be getting worse and worse. But at least there’s no gun pointing at him now.
The snow crunches underneath each step towards you. If you had any strength or smarts or will left in you, you’d probably try to move away, maintaining distance between you two at all costs. But you don’t. You stay still. Quiet. You keep yourself upright even though it’s killing you to do so.
He crouches down next to you, at an angle so his back isn’t facing Seonghwa. He keeps you both in his sights at all times. However, there’s no real threat. Neither of you have the strength – nor the luck – to successfully overpower him whatsoever. You feel his hand on your cheek before you see it. It’s always been a calming weight, and this time is no different. You lean into his touch, for warmth if nothing else, and a new wave of frozen tears begin to fall.
“You didn’t tell me,” he says, his voice tight from betrayal. “I had to find all of this out myself. Why should I ever trust you again?”
“I j– I just didn’t w-want anyone t-to get hurt,” you mumble, shaking your head, daring to glance up towards Seonghwa. You see him swaying slightly, eyes not really focused anywhere in particular. You bite your lip. He needs a doctor sooner rather than later.
Yunho chuckles, removing his hand from your cheek to run it down his face.
“‘Didn’t want anyone to get hurt’,” he echoes your words, peering over his shoulder, glancing at Seonghwa before turning back to you as if to say, ‘it happened anyway’.
Your bottom lip quivers, and you lower your head in shame.
“Why do you always make me do this?” Yunho sighs, his hand coming back up to play with your hair. “One minute you’re so close to perfect, and then you force me to make you remember your place. You’re so fucking exhausting.”
“Is that why you killed the others?” You hear yourself ask, eyes going wide with shock at your boldness in such a situation. If your hands were free, you would have clapped them over your mouth, stuffing the words back in. But he heard them.
It makes Yunho’s eyebrows raise. He hasn't heard such an attitude or tone from you since February. Of all times to act out… this was the worst possible timing. His hand flexes around the grip of the gun.
“They were all disappointments,” he grits, “much like how you’ve turned out to be.”
Oh.
A sharp pang of hurt strikes your heart. He ignores your rounded, teary eyes, keeping an air of disdain and nonchalance about him. Actually, he looks away entirely so that you are barely in his peripheral vision. Like he can’t stand the sight of you anymore. But you’re just his weakness, and he can’t afford to be weak right now. He can’t help but think that this would be so much easier if you tried to run, screamed at him, pissed him off. Something. Then, he could hate you with all of his heart.
However… even then, he’s not entirely convinced that he would. So what can he do? He can make you hate him.
“You’re nothing to me now.” He lies.
The world inhales sharply. Every star, tree, leaf, snowflake, and twig waits for your reaction.
The heartbreak on your face is unmistakable.
In a word, you shatter. Devastation pummels you from all sides, suffocates you as you sob. It pulls you back down to the ground, the snow burning your exposed skin once more. Luckily, this new wave of tears is hot and endless, and keeps your face somewhat warm. He stands up again, walking away from you. He doesn’t want to hear you cry. He doesn’t want you to give him a reason to not end your life quickly. But your broken voice follows after him, a raspy wailing that cuts through the wind.
“All I ever tried to do was love you,” you sob, inhaling snow.
That makes him stop. His grip around the gun falters slightly, and he almost looks back. He remembers your would-be last words the last time he took you here. You proved yourself to him that night. You proved that you really are different from the others… better.
But you speak again.
“Daddy, please,” you warble, unable to keep as quiet as he’d like you to be.
He grits his teeth. Don’t beg, he pleads with you internally, please, don’t fucking beg me.
The ruptured earth at his feet yawns, waiting to be refilled.
“Please…”
His hand tightens around the gun, finger moving to the trigger. Seonghwa coughs and wheezes, unaware of the rising danger you’re putting yourself in. He’s just hoping Yunho will listen to your pleas. He has no idea. Underneath the snow, he doesn’t see the manmade, uneven hills that depict where the others are.
In your dismay, and in the darkness, you can’t see how Yunho is starting to shake. Literally vibrating with frustration. Maybe he should just shoot you anyway, get it over with. Fuck the routine, go off script just this once, make an exception.
“Daddy,” you cry one more time, “I love you, please–”
That sets him off.
She’ll never love someone she fears.
“No you don’t!” He yells, pointing the gun right at you, absolutely irate. “You fucking don’t! You never did!”
Smartly, you shut up right away. Your despair is palpable, sobbing yourself into hysterics. The wind punishes you, blowing ice directly against you, keeping you pinned down.
He’s hurt… you hurt him. He doesn’t know how much you think you truly loved him – so, you failed him.
Your heart wrenches and twists violently as your mind calls you a barrage of horrible names, demolishing all of your efforts, telling you that you were never good enough for him. You were never enough at all. Every piece of you that he broke off and remoulded in his favored image, every declaration of unwavering love, everything you did right, everything you did wrong… it’s all been for nothing.
Nothing.
You’re nothing to me now.
You shut your eyes tight, unable to look at the gun. It’s better this way, you think. You don’t want to know when he’ll pull the trigger. Any second could be your last, and you’re okay with that.
A switch flips and you silence yourself. Like there was never an outburst in the first place; the only evidence of one being red, puffy eyes and occasional sniffles and sobs. Yet Yunho still aims the gun right at you, finger on the trigger, experience egging him on.
She’s nothing special, he tries to tell himself. You’ll forget her just as easily as the others.
“I’m done…” he mutters like he needs to convince himself that he is. “I’m fucking done.”
He shakes off any trace of empathy, any remnants of his true feelings towards you. None of it matters now. He rolls his shoulders back, regaining his self-control, and forces himself to reset. Detaching himself from any emotion, purely focusing on getting this all over with before he changes his mind.
A deep breath, the air filling his lungs, and he is mostly switched off.
Voluntarily depraved, depriving himself of you.
This side of him grabs you by the ankle, dragging you the short distance towards the grave. The closer you get to it, the more the earth seems to open up, ready to swallow you whole. Another sob tears from your throat, no longer pleading, but still upset at the prospect of dying so soon. He lets you cry. It’s all for nothing, anyway.
Then, you feel an odd vibration. It reverberates through the earth. Quiet thunder moves through the thicket, muffled noises increasing in volume, heading right towards you three. Blearily, you turn to the side, towards the sound. Yunho drops your ankle, turning towards it as well, gun at the ready.
He has a good idea of who this may be.
Six figures burst through the trees like a pack of wolves, stronger together. The moon acts as a searchlight, catching Yunho redhanded in its glow. Without thinking, Mingi and San continue sprinting once they enter the clearing, yelling at Yunho to stop, ready to brawl. You gasp upon hearing their voices loud and clear, especially Mingi’s. You haven’t heard him in so long.
But the gun pointed right at their faces stops them dead in their tracks. Their calves burn from running in the snow for so long, and their breaths fog the air around them in quick succession.
“Stop moving now!” Yunho yells, seemingly towards the others behind Mingi and San who instinctively move forward to protect the two of them.
“You won’t shoot us, Yunho!” San yells back, rather bravely. Mingi braces himself, knowing that was the wrong thing to say.
Not a second later, Yunho fires the gun off to the side. The bullet comes so close to grazing Yeosang’s arm that he can feel the breeze of it whizzing past him before it collides into one of the trees. The bark splinters. His body locks up as it does an internal check, making sure he’s still alive and unharmed. It is rather effective in making all six not want to move a single muscle.
Lesson learned.
Both you and Seonghwa cower from the gunshot, ears ringing. Seonghwa feels like he’s going to black out again. He covers his head with his arms and stays as still as possible, only focusing on breathing deeply as he fights through the worst pain of his life.
“Yunho, we called the police. It’s over!” Hongjoong shouts, “Let them go!”
Yunho steps in front of you, blocking you from view. He’s at his most dangerous, entirely unpredictable. Not even Mingi knows what to expect from him. He’s frazzled, cornered, willing to do whatever it takes for his desired ending. Whatever that may look like to him. Yunho’s never been in this type of situation before, and even if Mingi knows him best, there is just no telling how tonight will end.
In the tense, silent standoff, Hongjoong’s eyes search frantically for Seonghwa, looking over him several times in the dark, mistaking his curled up shape for a rock or bush.
Then, out of nowhere, Yunho laughs. Cold and amused. He ignores Hongjoong entirely, opting to stare right through Mingi instead.
“Min,” he hums, his tone saturated with patronizing warmth, “I thought I told you what would happen if you showed up.”
San dares to look away from Yunho and the gun, towards Mingi instead, wondering what the hell he’s talking about. Had they… spoken to each other before this? Because that’s exactly what it’s sounding like.
All eyes turn to Mingi, waiting for an explanation, wanting to know.
Meanwhile, your attention is on Seonghwa, about a yard away from you and looking worse and worse by the minute. As the sky overhead lightens, you can see grey-black rings forming around his eyes, how pale his skin has become, and most concerningly: how he hasn’t moved much in the past few minutes, slumped in the snow. Both of you aren’t dressed appropriately to be in this kind of weather for this long, and you’re terrified he’ll catch hypothermia. You’re not so worried about yourself… you know your time is about to be up anyway.
You can’t feel much of your body anymore. The burn of ice is unrelenting, the kind of stinging pain that never goes away. It sticks to your skin, burrowing underneath it to cool the blood.
Yunho sighs in mock disappointment. “You didn’t tell them? Again? How much are you gonna keep from them, Min?”
“Tell us what?” Hongjoong asks, “Mingi, what?”
Yeosang also speaks up, his voice soft, “What is he talking about?”
But Mingi ignores them, never looking away from Yunho. Standing his ground. “I remember. You said that you’d kill me.”
This snatches your attention back, eliciting a small noise from you. You can’t see all of the boys from behind Yunho’s legs, but you can just make out Yeosang, someone standing next to him that you haven’t seen before, and San a little farther ahead of them. It hurts too much to try and crane your neck to see where Mingi is, but you wish you could see him. Despite all that he’s done, you don’t want him to die. You certainly don’t want to watch Yunho kill him, either. Everyone else probably shares that same sentiment as well.
But Jongho and Wooyoung both dash to Mingi’s side at once, shielding him. San side-steps closer, joining the protective huddle, as well as Yeosang and Hongjoong. A team protecting their own. The four of them are closer to Yunho, you, and Seonghwa now, having stepped in front of Mingi and San. Yeosang can just barely see you behind Yunho, and Hongjoong takes another closer look at what he thought was part of the scenery.
A third of Seonghwa is buried underneath the snowfall, a near-perfect camouflage in the dark with his black hair and sweater. It’s clear at first glance that he is unconscious, unmoving, and severely injured. It takes everything once he finally sees him to not rush to his side, to help in any way he can, to tell him that he’s going to be alright. Anything. Hongjoong’s blood boils. It only ramps up the tension, the need to end this now.
Jongho shouts, “You’re not killing anybody! Put the fucking gun down!”
Yunho smirks, ignoring Jongho for now to look directly towards Hongjoong.
“So, you finally brought them too, huh?” He says, carelessly pointing the gun at Wooyoung and Jongho. “Kept them from ‘danger’ only to bring them now?”
Hongjoong bristles but stands firm, refusing to show any sort of emotion on his face. He can’t let Yunho see that his words are getting to him. Not this time. Yeosang slowly reaches back, grabs Wooyoung’s coat and pulls him behind him, out of Yunho’s line of sight and fire. Jongho’s hands clench into fists, beyond annoyed that Yunho is continuing to act so high and mighty when he is clearly outnumbered. However… he is the one holding the gun. The rest of them are critically unarmed.
“Don’t try and change the subject,” Hongjoong growls, risking another step forward. Closer. “Let them go.”
A corner of Yunho’s mouth twitches, a short exhale of a laugh evaporating into the air. If there’s one thing he hates, it’s being so openly challenged like this. He looks over his shoulder, down at you, glad to see that you haven’t moved at all. You’ve stayed right by his side, close by and safe.
At least someone is behaving.
He’ll never admit it, not even to himself, but seeing you quiet and half-frozen below him, still so submissive for him… there is a pang of regret. It’s small, not quite noticeable or easily labelled as such, but there nevertheless. Not necessarily for what he’s done to you, but for not just punishing you for not telling him about the plan. Truthfully, he doesn’t want to kill you. He either didn’t care or actually wanted to with the others in the past, but with you… he really doesn’t.
For the first time, he questions his ability to carry it out.
The others… they preach loyalty until kingdom come, but they don’t know what true loyalty looks like. It looks like you. Curled up at his feet like a scared kitten, not making a sound in front of the others. A naive little lamb, who has evaded death so many times, just to obediently stay by her master, right up to the slaughter. You still know your place and your rules.
And yet you didn’t hesitate to break those rules and forget your place.
Yunho grits his teeth. He’ll deal with you soon. He can do it.
He turns back to the group, all casual.
“Oh, fine. But I’ve been promised something.” He says, his index finger tapping lightly on the gun, gaze locked onto Mingi again. “And you can either give me what I’m owed, or say ‘goodbye’ to them.” At the last word, he gestures behind him towards you and Seonghwa.
The slow realization dawns on them, one by one. The impossible ultimatum takes them all aback.
He’s making them choose who to save, and who to kill.
Two for one, or one for two. Either way, someone will be put into that yawning grave.
The group erupts in protest, shouting at him to just give it up and that he doesn’t have to do this. Yunho, however, doesn’t budge whatsoever. Not even a flinch. He’s dead serious and immovable. The group moves tighter together, really shielding Mingi from Yunho, only a sliver of his hair visible to him now. His hand tightens around the gun, the only physical display of his frustration.
At the sound of raised voices, and a new wave of nausea rushing through him, Seonghwa begins to stir, slowly coming back into consciousness again. He makes a small noise as his eyelids flutter open, undetectable under the din of wind and livid men. His head continues to pound, especially as he pushes himself up out of the snow. Most of it falls off of him as easily as powder, but some still clings to his damp hair, clothes, and skin. He doesn’t exactly remember where he is, nor what’s happening. He wants to yell at everyone to be quiet, even if the act of yelling might cause his head to explode from the added pressure and volume. It hurts to blink, but he fights against how heavy his eyelids are to try and figure out what is happening in front of him.
Someone calls his name. The voice is familiar, but sounds like it’s coming from miles and miles away. So far, it’s the only thing he can attach to in order to keep himself awake. He hopes he’ll hear it again.
Upright now, the pressure in his head increases tenfold, magnifying with each and every movement, no matter how small. He doesn’t quite remember why he wants to sit up, but he goes with it. It must’ve been for a reason. Perhaps to try and hear his name again, but the voice doesn’t call for him a second time. A wave of pain slams into him upside the head and he keeps his mouth pressed into a thin line to avoid being the center of Yunho’s attention once more. He gingerly lifts his hand to touch the back of his head, trying his best to assess the damage done there. A memory flashes by him, fleeting in its detail, but he briefly remembers seeing his own blood on the carpet in the apartment. The ache in his teeth as he clenched them, his body bracing for the second blow. Then the memory disappears. The dull and constant hurt of the here and now is more than enough for him to concentrate on.
Plus, everyone around him won’t stop yelling, which is making the throbbing in his head that much worse.
“Or you can stop being a fucking psycho and let them all go!” Wooyoung shouts, disgusted at this version of Yunho in front of him. He understands the stories now.
Pushed to the back of the group, Mingi starts to move away. Slowly, to not draw attention to the fact that he’s abandoning his defenses. They’re all so preoccupied with guarding him from Yunho, they don’t even notice that he’s drifting from them.
The wheels in his head that have been spinning out this whole night finally slow. An odd clarity settles over him. He doesn’t feel the wind. He doesn’t hear the uproar in front of him nor the trees overhead swaying and rustling, adding to the swell of noise. He looks at his hands, past the sleeves of his coat. They’re a pinkish-red color from the cold. Numb. Then he turns his head to the forest that surrounds them on all sides. How easy it would be for him to just slip away, to back up only a few feet and let the night swallow him whole, hiding him from imminent danger. No one would forgive him if he did that, least of all himself. The thought is just… there. The opportunity presents itself.
Instead, he turns back towards Yunho.
His next decision is not clarity borne from some sort of act of noble redemption. To him, it’s simply repayment. He indirectly made you pay by not standing up to Yunho that night outside the convenience store, telling him to fuck off and find someone else. To be in debt this long, knowing the game, it’s better if it’s him. He’ll gladly choose your life and Seonghwa’s over his own.
He moves out to the side, no longer hidden behind his friends, and no longer hiding behind his past excuses. Whatever he used to tell himself to smooth over everything he’s done, downplay his own actions, he throws all of it away. This, he admits, should have been done years ago. The first instance in which he knew what Yunho was really doing with these girls, and why they would suddenly ‘disappear’ without any reason or warning.
Now, standing over them, he can finally make the right decision.
“Kill me if you want,” Mingi declares, his deep, husky voice distinct over the top of everyone else’s voices. “Just let them go.”
All eyes snap to him. Including yours.
You can see him clearer now, off to the side. You’re glad you’re still hidden behind Yunho, even now, still not ready to see him. His deception rocked you to the core. It’s something you cannot and will not forgive or forget so easily. Yet, you can’t deny the wave of calm that washes over you once the initial shock wears off.
He looks hollow. Bent out of shape and just… overall different. Less of a spark to him. His eyes are tired, but hold determination within them regardless – the same look he had months ago in late summer, standing up to Yunho in the living room. If you had any sort of ego left, you would assume it has something to do with what he did to you.
What he says doesn’t quite hit you yet. Or maybe, you just genuinely don’t see yourself getting out of this, so everyone’s attempts to persuade Yunho to change the ending, just go in one ear and out the other. Though it still hurts to do so, you look up at Yunho, curious as to what his next step will be. It’s not every day someone offers him their life on a silver platter, especially when that someone is his old best friend.
You can hear the others, shocked and defiant. San grips the sleeve of Mingi’s coat, trying to pull him back towards the group, but Mingi shakes him off. Hongjoong rushes over to him, speaking quickly and hushed, trying to talk him out of it, insisting they can all go home unharmed. Nobody has to die.
Debatable.
Mingi brushes him off too, nudging him back towards the others. They stare at him wide-eyed, in disbelief that he’s doing this. That he’s choosing to do this. They don’t know the full story, they don’t know why he feels like this is all for the best.
Jongho tries one more time, with a slightly less gentle approach.
“Don’t give him what he wants,” he urges, trying to get him to look him in the eyes. Mingi stays fixated on the ground, though. He doesn’t want them to try and fight for him to keep his life, knowing that they probably wouldn’t be doing so if they knew the truth.
“Hyung,” Jongho grabs his coat with a grip that will not be as easy to pry off. “Think about it. He won’t give her up that easily just because you let him kill you.”
Mingi hesitates, but only for a few seconds at most. In those few seconds, he asks himself if their optimism about saving everyone is grounded in reality. Jongho’s words hit him hard. The unpredictability of what Yunho will do once he’s dead stops him from continuing. But he feels that gun pointing at him, and he has to finally acknowledge something about himself.
Is he stepping in front of the bullet to save you, or because he wants to die?
He accepted his fate without a second thought when he decided to lead the boys here. No hesitation, just silent acceptance. No tears, no wallowing. His only thoughts were of you and Seonghwa. How you both deserve better, how neither of you should die at the hands of Yunho, not if he can potentially change that. He doesn’t want to be the hero, he knows he will never be. It’s the cost of his actions – or, his lack of actions – simply coming back to him. A debt that must be paid in full.
He looks up at Yunho. His closest friend, someone he would’ve gone to war for in the past, a real brother to him. Standing a few yards away from him now, he’s a stranger. Externally appearing to be the Yunho he knows and loves, but internally possessed by something much darker. An entity feeding off of every last bit of good nature and empathy. He has to remind himself that the man standing in front of him is not Yunho. At least, not the one he’s been hoping will return.
The future just isn’t something he wants to see. He can’t see it, can’t possibly imagine what tomorrow will look like, and can’t place himself anywhere near a somewhat normal life. How can he live one when he knows what he’s done? How can he live with himself?
His eyes find you next, already looking straight at him. You don’t shy away.
Yunho taps the side of the gun again, impatient. He keeps quiet for now, choosing to watch instead of speak. Analyze, calculate, observe any trickery that may occur with this voluntary display by Mingi. He thinks he’d know about it because of the bugs he hid in their phones, but he hasn’t exactly had time to listen to what they’ve been saying tonight. This could all be a trap they had set in the car on the way here. His heel moves back, gently hitting your shoulder, just to make sure you’re still behind him.
He doesn’t bother to look over at Seonghwa. To be honest, he doesn’t care if Seonghwa escapes back to the group. He’s not the target that he’s after. Not really. Plus, Seonghwa is in no position to try and fight Yunho successfully.
But Seonghwa is sitting up now. Trying to get himself to stand, movement by movement. It takes all the energy within him just to bring his foot out from underneath him. The world spins when he tries to stabilize himself with his hands. You watch him from the corner of your eye, saying nothing, barely breathing.
Go! Go, go, go, you silently encourage him on. He’s right on the tree line. He could disappear easily while Yunho has bigger problems at the moment.
You don’t want him to watch you die.
Inspired, you begin to take measures to start to sit up as well, always watching Yunho. You aren’t planning any sort of escape or attack – how could you, in this state? – you’re simply curious to see if you’ll feel better if you are upright.
Yeosang pries Jongho off of Mingi’s coat, expression unreadable. His eyebrows are furrowed slightly, looking at Mingi like he’s trying to solve a puzzle. Which, in a way, is true. He’s sure Mingi is so willing to trade his life for yours and Seonghwa’s for a reason, he just can’t place what that reason could be. Whatever it is, Seonghwa apparently knows about it.
The purpling sky dyes the forest and its guests a deep shade of indigo.
“I’m tired of waiting,” Yunho huffs, looking up to address the entire group, “make your decision.”
All everyone else can do is watch in horror as Mingi obeys, stepping even closer to Yunho, farther from the group. You can see him even better now, though your eyelids are starting to grow heavy again. You look down at the ground, shifting uncomfortably at him being so close to you again. It’s been so long and then not long at all. Lifetimes since you trusted him, in just over thirty days.
Face to face again, the world halts. The branches above try to crane past the others, each wanting a better view of the standoff below. Occasionally, a thick clump of snow will fall from one of them, misting the air as it descends. Everything diminishes to just the two men and their sordid history.
The air is thick between them. The stillness that awaits a detonation. The woods after the shot that never fired. No one risks even a poorly timed breath.
The air whirls and howls around Yunho, begging for bloodshed. The bare branches on the trees above whisper and creak, placing bets, enjoying the show. Birds who are just waking up only sing once or twice before falling silent or flying away. Even they know not to interrupt. The moonlight tilts, shadowing Yunho once again, making him appear even more dangerous and frightening than he already is.
“Let them go first,” Hongjoong appeals, trying anything to buy time. “Then–”
Yunho interrupts him with another chuckle, a short and sharp exhale through his nose, quite amused at his sudden demand. They must think he’s stupid. That’s fine, they can continue to underestimate him. That only serves him better, keeps his position at the very top of superiority. They need a show of honesty? Something that tells them he might keep his end of the deal? Fine.
“No,” he says flatly, “I really don’t think any of you are in any position to be telling me what to do.”
San grabs the back of Jongho’s collar before he can try to beat him into the ground.
There’s a small pause before he speaks again, pretending to mull something over. “But, just to show how merciful I can be…”
As soon as he finishes the last syllable, while still pointing the gun in Mingi’s direction, he walks over to Seonghwa. He’s rather surprised that he’s awake and trying to get himself up.
He can help with that.
Yunho grabs Seonghwa by the arm, hoisting him up roughly, ignoring the shouts from the group, everyone growing more and more agitated. He shoves Seonghwa towards them, now in the dead center of the two opposing teams, right by Mingi’s feet. Because of his condition and the snow, he does fall right down, landing with a soft thud, hands first so as to not hit his head again. The next wave of nausea is the most powerful, and he has to really fight to keep himself from getting sick. His vision is darkening again. As his shivering gradually stops, his body begins to show signs of shutting down. It is more than sufficient to say that he’s afraid he’ll die here.
You’re halfway between laying down and sitting up, frozen in place as you watch him, lifeless in the snow. Before anyone can use this opportunity to go retrieve him, Hongjoong shoots an arm out, a silent signal to wait, even though all he wants to do is run forward and drag Seonghwa back to safety. Yunho won’t be handing him over that easily. There’s got to be more.
You hold your breath, eyes still locked onto Seonghwa. You don’t realize that Mingi is staring right at you, eyes darting back and forth between you and Seonghwa since Yunho moved away. You don’t hear his sharp intake of breath, lost to the night air. The sight of you like this, or any of the others before you in a similar state of distress and injury, on the very precipice of dying, has never been easy on him.
He takes a small step back, giving Seonghwa room, taking care to not potentially kick any snow into his face by accident.
Seonghwa, Mingi realizes, is being dangled in front of them. Yunho’s making them look directly at what is at stake. The longer they argue, fumbling over their morality and mortality, the less chance of survival Seonghwa has. And you’re not far behind, equally dressed and equally as frozen. Time is against them just as much as time is against him. Yunho needs to show them that.
Mingi watches as Yunho steps right back into place, directly in front of you. The others are simply not allowed to look at you. Not even now. If he really is honest in that he’ll let you go if he kills him, would he still be this worried about keeping you hidden? He could have just as easily thrown you down next to Seonghwa, visually rub it right in their faces that they can trade one life for two, so why doesn’t he?
The thing is, Yunho isn’t a liar. But he bends the truth, finds the loophole. When he asked them to choose who to save, he never specifically mentioned that he’d let both you and Seonghwa go in exchange for Mingi’s life. They just automatically assumed via false, optimistic hope. It was never going to be two for one – always an eye for an eye, an even exchange.
“You won’t give her up,” Mingi states bluntly, his words becoming fog as he speaks them. “Will you?”
Yunho doesn’t react, his expression unchanging and stoic. His trigger finger itches.
Mingi risks a step forward, careful to go around Seonghwa.
“You can’t even bring yourself to kill her, can you? Either of them. Because you can’t. You killed the girls before because you didn’t care about them. It’s different now, isn’t it? You care this time. You could’ve killed them long before we got here. I bet you won’t even kill me, you fucking coward.”
Oh god– Hongjoong thinks as he watches in horror, internally yelling at Mingi to stop provoking him.
If only he said it out loud.
Yunho’s hand tightens around the gun, and he smiles. Unnerving and cold, full of promise. He’s never been one to step down from a challenge. And if Mingi, of all people, wants to test him like this in front of everybody, then he’ll rise to the occasion.
“Oh, Mingi,” Yunho laughs, as if he’s just heard a mildly funny joke. “You really gotta stop underestimating me.”
The gun goes off.
The birds that fell silent scream as they flee from the trees. Seonghwa flinches, but lacks the energy to cover his ears. He feels a light misting of snow land on his cheek from something falling near him.
Barely missing a beat, Yunho has the gun pointed at someone else now, swallowing down the lump in his throat that grows larger and larger as his psyche attacks him for what he’s just done. Psychologically, he snaps. None of this is real anymore, and he dissociates. If he’s going to be disrespected, he’ll just take them all. It’s justifiable. He focuses on the new target, next on the list.
All hell breaks loose around him. Everything happens in both slow-motion and hyper-speed, all at once. Now all bets are off.
The rest of the group, having just registered what he’s done, no longer sits still on the sidelines. They run right towards the gun that’s pointing directly at Seonghwa.
You don’t hear yourself screaming, but you feel the strain in your throat. Somehow, you manage to gather enough energy to kick at Yunho, trying to stop him from shooting Seonghwa next. He is distracted by you for only a single second, debating on who to shoot next. He cannot let them get to you.
You don’t want to watch him die. Neither of them.
The single second, miraculously, is enough.
Jongho and Hongjoong both slam into Yunho at the same time, causing all three of them to trip over you in the struggle. One of their feet kicks your jaw, and you shriek again, lifting your head up to try and see what’s going on. You feel someone behind you, and you hear them say something, but you just look around frantically, trying to get your bearings again. That someone lifts you up to your feet, and the forest spins. Your knees buckle and you sink back into the snow again. Whoever is behind you lets you drop, intent on dragging you away instead. Their hands go to untie the rope around your wrists. A punch lands somewhere, and numerous shouts fill the air, getting lost within the howling wind.
San rushes forward, but not to maim Yunho in any way he possibly can. He drops next to Seonghwa’s limp body, checking him for his injuries. It’s obvious he’s fading and fast, his lips are starting to turn blue, and he’s mumbling incoherently. Without further delay, he peels off his coat to wrap it around him, looking back at what’s happening with the others.
Wooyoung is kneeling by Mingi’s side, applying pressure to the wound in his chest. His once cold hands are warm now, covered in his friend’s blood. To keep himself from freaking out, he has to remind himself the police are already well on their way. He reminds Mingi of that as well, trying to keep him awake by talking to him.
The brawling trio only a foot or two away from you continue their death match, fighting for the gun. It’s all too easy for Yunho to overpower both of them, one of his hardest punches hitting Hongjoong right in the jaw, and managing to shove Jongho into the grave, taking him out of the fight at least for a few moments. You see Yunho clearly thanks to the lightening sky, teeth bared, and supremely pissed off. His eyes are dead. Unhinged. Unpredictable, and still armed.
The rope around your wrists breaks apart, and you see him look at whoever helped you with pure fire in his eyes. He stands back up without any trouble. Jongho pushes himself up from within the open ground, intent on jumping right back into the fray.
“Motherfucker–” He spits out, swinging his knee up to the edge of the grave to get out.
Hongjoong staggers to his feet from behind him, one hand holding his jaw.
The gun is pointed again.
But not at you, nor the person behind you.
At Seonghwa.
Something in you makes you act before your brain can catch up. You don’t even realize what you’re doing as you’re doing it. You’re just pulled to move, to protect him. It’s been traumatizing enough watching Mingi get shot, but you don’t think you can bear any more harm to be inflicted upon Seonghwa. Yeosang reaches to pull you back, but you slip just out of reach.
Hongjoong grabs Yunho by the arm.
Another shot rings out, deafening all those near it.
Nobody moves at first.
The pure white snow is stained with blood. A body hits the ground as the bullet within them nestles violently into its new host before exiting. It lands several feet behind them, burying into the snow, never to be seen again until the spring.
San freezes, looking up towards the five of you as he processes that he hasn’t been hit, even though he lunged to cover Seonghwa’s body with his own once he saw where the gun was pointing.
Yunho’s arm lowers, but not solely due to Hongjoong’s grip. Due to shock. His once lifeless eyes are now round with disbelief.
You don’t scream this time, not even when you hit the ground.
All the air is sucker-punched from you, stolen right out of your lungs. Your body feels cold in a completely different way, and your breath quickens. You watch a couple of birds dart overhead, escaping to safer skies. The world is minimized to what you can see above you and what you can hear. Yeosang’s blurry face appears in your field of vision, but you can’t talk to him. You’re stuck. He takes your hand, squeezing it tight before looking up, towards the others. You feel uneasy, now that he’s not looking at you.
Yeosang watches as Jongho wraps his arm around Yunho’s throat, forcing him to kneel. He lets himself be taken down easily. Hongjoong stands close, gun in hand, finger on the trigger. Ready. His hands shake.
“Don’t fucking move.” He orders, his voice firm and controlled despite everything. In fact, this is the most held together the group has seen him in months. Even if they all know he’s absolutely going through it internally, this is the leadership display that they’re used to. Under different circumstances, they would celebrate this more.
“Y/N? Can you hear me?” Yeosang prompts, trying to get any kind of response as he applies pressure to your wound. All he receives is a strangled gasp as your body finally realizes what has happened to it. The adrenaline gradually begins to wear off. He says something low and calm to you as you shut your eyes. You can’t discern any of his words.
In immeasurable pain, frightened, and confused, all you want is one person.
Seonghwa can feel someone touching him. Maybe two people? He’s not sure. But whoever it is, and however many are around him, take this opportunity to drag him back towards the treeline, far from the barrel of the gun. He’s not sure where he is, what he’s doing here, or how he got here in the first place. He’s hot. Burning up rapidly, he paws at whoever’s touching him, they’re only adding to the fire that he is now desperate to put out. He hears his name again, less distant than before, but just as muffled.
“Hwa? Hwa, stay with me, okay?” Someone says from above him.
His unfocused eyes flutter open for just a moment before closing again. Other than that, he doesn’t respond. Nor does he move. Everything is so heavy… so heavy and confusing. He just wants to sleep, but everything’s too loud.
“Fuck… what the fuck…” Wooyoung mutters under his breath, hugging himself tight.
The carnage around him was exactly what they all feared. He just felt better that the gun is in Hongjoong’s hands now. He’s sure everyone shares that feeling. The scent of blood catches on the wind, accompanied by gunpowder, and he tries to bury his nose in his coat as best he can while still applying pressure to Mingi’s wound. It’s hard to tell, but he thinks he’s successfully diminishing how much he bleeds from it. But he needs to get to a hospital now.
Mingi’s still breathing, but not responsive. Wooyoung wishes he could spare just a couple of seconds to check his pulse, but keeps his bloodied hands right where they are. He won’t let him bleed out in the snow. He won’t let him die here. Not like this.
You’re not faring any better yourself.
The wind rakes through the leaves, making them laugh above you. You turn your head to one side, nose almost touching Yeosang’s knee. Nothing helps. Nothing can distract you. Your entire chest is on fire. Everything is simultaneously too loud and too quiet, both making you anxious. Your body convulses, desperate for air, and you cough up blood. Above you, Yeosang shouts for help, even though no one can leave who they’re with. No one wants to leave the wounded alone.
You hear your name called, the familiar voice cutting through all the noise. Already in the process of protecting itself, your mind clings to that voice, knowing that in the past the owner of it has given you so much comfort when you are hurting.
To the best of your ability, you lift your head up, though it emphasizes the sharp pressure you feel in your chest tenfold, forcing you back down with a yelp.
“Daddy…?” You croak, wondering if you even said it loud enough to be heard by him.
Yeosang keeps pressure, unaware of the exit wound pouring blood beneath you. His voice is calming, a soft low timbre that comforts you somewhat, telling you that they’re going to help you, and that you’re going to be okay. “It’ll all be over soon,” he says. He hopes he’s telling the truth. Yunho is still uninjured, but unarmed. However, that doesn’t mean he’s not just as dangerous.
Where are the goddamn police?
“Where… hm– Daddy?” You slur your words, blinking lethargically.
There’s some rustling, thrashing noises on your right, until Hongjoong shouts something and it stops abruptly.
“Shhh,” Yeosang hushes you, looking over to your right to make sure everyone is exactly where they should be. “He’s right here, don’t worry. Hongjoong and Jongho got him.”
He can’t look down anymore, the sight and scent of the blood all too much. You could have sworn it was almost morning, so you’re confused why everything is going dark again.
“He’ll kill them…” you mumble, turning your head back to the right to try and see where they are.
“Jongho’s holding him down. He’s not going anywhere.” Yeosang murmurs, applying more pressure to your chest. The words don’t make sense to you. Not really. You pick out that Yunho isn’t going anywhere, and that comforts you.
You cough again, tears rolling down your cheeks from the pain and cry out for Yunho one more time.
Yunho digs his nails into Jongho’s forearm, but fails to actually cause him any pain due to his padded coat. Jongho holds him tighter, threatening to break his neck right then and there. Surprisingly, Yunho doesn’t say anything. No snarky remarks, no other threats, nothing. He just keeps staring at you, still in shock. If he could shake free of Jongho, he’d run right to you.
It’s when Hongjoong steps right in front of his line of sight, blocking you from view that he starts fighting back again. Luckily, Jongho is up to the challenge. Yunho jerks one way, clawing at Jongho’s hand since the skin there is exposed, but Jongho retaliates quickly and efficiently by decking Yunho in the nose with his free hand. Hongjoong presses the gun into his forehead, shaking with anger.
“You don’t get to see her,” he says bitterly, “not anymore.”
If looks could kill, Hongjoong would be six feet under right now. Yet, the grave remains empty.
Delirious, your mumbling fades out the sleepier you get, rapidly becoming lightheaded and faint. Time expands and shortens. Yeosang tells you to open your eyes, and you swear you’re following directions, being good and obeying, but he keeps repeating himself. He sounds worried. It’s your fault.
Daddy’s gonna be so mad…
Sirens wail and screech in the distance. Someone shouts and someone replies from afar, but you’re too tired and out of it to discern what is being said and by whom. It hurts too much to even try. Everything is so much easier down here, drifting languidly in this state, somewhere in the middle of consciousness as the pain begins to roll back. Yunho uses this brief distraction to try to get out one more time, only for Hongjoong to press the gun harder against his forehead. He’s not going anywhere.
San whispers a promise of returning to Seonghwa before sprinting through the woods, back in the direction they came from. Your eyelids flutter open, but you don’t actually see much of anything. Everything’s blurry and dark.
“Hurts…” you whimper, trying to find Yunho with a lazy, short-lived search with your hand.
Yeosang replies, though he’s not who you intended to answer back, “I know, just a little longer, don’t worry. The police are here.”
The police?
You remember something being said about the police earlier, but none of the context. Yunho drilled into your head that the police were bad people who would take you away from him immediately if ever given the chance. Why would they be here in the forest? Nothing is making sense, and a fresh wave of tears cascades down your cheeks. You don’t want them here. All you want is Yunho, why won’t they bring him to you?
It’s unclear how long it takes for the police to descend upon the scene, lead straight to it with San’s help, but unfamiliar voices begin to fill the air soon enough. Mostly male voices, if you’re not mistaken.
Still confused, your skin crawls. You can’t possibly be expected to take anybody in this state.
Little spots of light blind you, peppering your already cloudy vision and your hands grip the fabric of Yeosang’s pant leg, only for him to be ripped away from you. With a distressed wail, you blindly search for him again, but someone is hovering above you, shining a bright flashlight in your eyes. Someone else holds your wrists down, which only makes you panic more. These people… you don’t know who they are. They’re touching you without Daddy’s permission. They’re signing off on their own death sentence and they don’t even realize it. You desperately kick your legs, trying to get everyone around you away, but to no avail. You have no energy. No say.
Daddy didn’t do this to you…
They did.
This is all part of their plan; they called the police, and you’ll suffer for it. Their presence here only means that they’re going to separate you and Yunho. Now, they’re going to take advantage of you. You’re not strong enough to stomach any of this.
A new rush of adrenaline bolts through you, and despite the pain in your chest, you’re able to kick one of the men away from you. Though your vision is blurry, you can just barely see Yeosang and Hongjoong be forced to the ground and handcuffed, and Jongho being pried off of Yunho. Your heart races. You want to scream at them to not touch him, but before you can attempt, you are laid back down, nearly blacking out again. A stretcher is carried over and they maneuver you onto it.
When you still don’t stop fighting them, the paramedics have to restrain you on the ambulance bed, and you scream in terror, not knowing what is happening or where they’re taking you, or where Yunho is. This isn’t how the night was supposed to go at all. You’re supposed to be dead. Forever bound to Yunho. Not whatever this is, with an unknown future laying ahead of you.
One of the paramedics slaps the window to signal the driver to go, and with a lurch, the vehicle takes off, lights and sirens blaring. Every mile takes you farther and farther away from Yunho. The paramedics don’t care about that. You do.
You can’t breathe. Not without him telling you how to.
· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·
“Female patient, early to mid twenties with a GSW to the upper right chest. Injury sustained about twenty minutes ago. No ID. Lost consciousness during transport.”
Everything is so bright. Sterile. Loud. Something covers your face, but when you move to rip it off, you realize that your hands are still tied down. Air breezes through your hair, and you get the feeling of motion, even though you’re laying down. It’s all so dizzying. You feel sick. People around you talk loudly and over each other, turning it into an endless cacophony of urgent chatter.
“Patient is hypotensive and tachycardic–”
“Single gunshot wound, visible entry and exit–”
Someone with a face mask on leans over you, getting way too close to you. “Hi, honey,” he says, “need you to keep your eyes open for me, okay?”
The pet name makes your skin crawl in the worst way. You turn your face away, wanting nothing more than to escape this torment. This is all a horrible nightmare. You hope you’ll wake up in Yunho’s bed soon.
“Starting the IV–”
“What’re her vitals looking like?”
“Pulse ox is eighty-seven on fifteen litres–”
“Can you tell me your name, sweetheart?”
You’re not telling anyone anything. But you do open your eyes at the sound of female voices. You haven’t been around another woman in a year.
“Honey? Can you hear me? Need you to keep your eyes open. Can you do that?” One of them asks. Her voice is nice. Calming.
“There’s blood coming up. It may have hit the lung.”
“I need a chest tube tray, get a thirty-two French–”
“Trauma two is ready, let’s go, now!”
A mixture of rough and soft hands paw at your clothes, taking them off and you instantly resist. You put up a hell of a fight even though you’re restrained, not making it easy for these people whatsoever. You’re not ready. Yunho hasn’t given them permission. He hasn’t given you permission. You’re disappointing him again.
You shriek once you feel a small but strong pinch in your side, unfocused eyes glaring towards that direction, staring daggers into the male nurse that stabbed you. In only a few seconds, you’re calm again, even more floaty you were in the woods. Your body, however, still subconsciously flinches away whenever a man gets too close to you.
Daddy… wouldn’t... like… it… even your thoughts are slow.
for mature audiences only, minors will be blocked.
⟢ a/n: THIS IS THE SECOND HALF OF PART 12 | this does NOT in any way, shape, or form depict who / how any of ateez are irl. please do not take this fic as fact on their personalities or actions, please and thank you.
⟢ summary: the grande finale™
⟢ total word count for both parts: 56.4k (128 pages....)
⟢ warnings: MINORS RUN FOR THE HILLS | swearing, captive reader, conditioning, use of names (daddy, angel, sir), psychological warfare, manipulation, mentions of death/dying, PTSD, brief/indirect mention of SA
Everything hurts but also… doesn’t. Like something is blocking you from feeling any of the pain from before. A dull, underlying discomfort.
You don’t remember much of what happened, why you ended up here, wherever you are. There’s a black hole in your memory that turns everything fuzzy and confusing. What you do remember is how cold you were, near freezing. Cautiously, you move each finger one by one, and wiggle your toes, making sure all were accounted for. You remember two loud, sudden noises. Someone else got hurt. Two others, you think. You can’t recall who, though.
You remember being touched by strangers. The thought terrifies you all over again, and you slowly squeeze your thighs together, testing for any soreness. You don’t feel anything. A huge mental weight suddenly lifts off of you, and you sink further into the bed, turning your head to the side to cry in relief. Daddy would’ve been so mad…
When you eventually open your eyes, the first things you see are balloons.
Odd.
Off to the side, they float on a large shelf beneath a large flat screen television, telling you to get well soon in funky fonts. Underneath the balloons are an array of gifts, each one differing in packaging and size, and a teddy bear perched on top of the pile like a throne. You wonder if they’ll find and give you Puppy sometime soon. That would be a greater comfort than the teddy bear, even if it did have a cute red ribbon tied around its neck. But you breathe a sigh of relief upon the sight of all the gifts. A wave of comfort washes over you at the thought of Yunho sending you all of these. He must not be mad at you anymore, and sent you these, knowing how scared you are here. You can’t wait to see what he got you.
You see that they have also placed a small Christmas tree in the corner.
Right… you remember, it is Christmas – or at least it was recently.
You groan as you shift to get more comfortable, and feel a small tug within your chest. Your eyes fly open and you panic once you see multiple tubes protruding from your chest and arm. Immediately, you want to rip whatever is in there out, but your hands are still restrained. A rough scream that sounds just like Yunho’s name tears from your throat and two nurses run in, trying to calm you down.
“No!” You try to scream at them, but it comes out as a breathy, broken cry, “No! Leave me alone!”
Both nurses back off right away. One of them calmly tries to explain to you that you’re in the hospital, and the tubes you see are to drain the fluid in your chest, and an IV to keep you hydrated. You don’t respond. You regress further.
Daddy hasn’t given you permission to speak to any of these people.
He’ll take the presents away if he finds out.
He’ll leave you here.
You press your mouth together, refusing to say another word. Curling up on your side, you don’t even look in their direction. In this position, there’s an added pressure somewhere in your chest and a pull in your shoulder that you don’t like. Yet you don’t move. You hate that they’re looking at you. They’re not allowed to.
One of them brings the teddy bear over, setting him down on the foot of your hospital bed, leaning against the footboard. Eventually, after checking your vitals and trying – and failing – to ask you a dozen questions you don’t want to answer, they leave.
You break down as soon as you’re alone again.
You don’t understand… why did Daddy leave you here? He would never leave you out in the world unprotected, no matter what. He didn’t even assign one of the boys to stay with you. It just does not make sense. The not-knowing overwhelms you, and your temples begin to throb from stress.
The only comfort you can find is in being asleep. So you’ll sleep until Daddy comes to get you.
Until he brings you back home.
· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·
Sleep is something you’re not really afforded.
You wake up often due to the pain, sometimes pressing the button for the nurse to administer more pain-killing drugs to your system, and several times throughout the day – and night – people walk in to poke and prod you. They keep asking you questions. The same ones, every single time, every single shift. It’s always loud, bright, and disorientating. You hate it here. You miss the blackout curtains throughout the apartment, shielding you from this blinding light. You miss waking up snuggled next to Yunho. You miss that safety.
The nurses finally freed your hands from your sides earlier this morning and you don’t even thank them. You hid your hands under the blankets, like a child that didn’t want to give you their favorite toy. In your somewhat newfound freedom, you pulled the blanket higher over you, so you really didn’t have to look at anyone if you didn't want to. It’s easier to block out the world this way.
By mid-morning, you’re unable to fall back asleep, which you kind of anticipated. Still, it’s desperately annoying. One of the nurses that had come in when you first woke up stands by your bed, checking your vitals and typing something into her laptop. She checks on the dressing that covers your wound. You watch her work for a while. You decide that you dislike her the least. She keeps the shades drawn, having noticed your agitation when the sunlight streamed into the room. And so far, she’s been nice. She can read what you want better than the other nurses.
You startle her by speaking.
“Where is he?”
She jumps and clutches her chest, not expecting a question from you. But she quickly regains her professionalism and asks, “Where is who, dear?”
“Da–” You think twice in the middle of saying it. You need to be specific. “Yunho.”
“Yunho?” She repeats.
You nod twice.
“I– I don’t know, dear. Is he your boyfriend?”
You drop the conversation there, frustrated. And partly because you don’t know how to answer her question. Whatever your relationship is, it’s so much deeper than that.
“You say his name a lot in your sleep,” she mentions, resuming her typing after flicking through your chart again.
She looks up at you, hoping for an explanation, but you just turn onto your side, closing yourself off. You don’t move again until she leaves, and even then you wait a few extra minutes to make sure she’s gone.
Sleep drags you down out of nowhere. It’s welcomed.
But of course, it doesn’t stay with you for too long.
“Honey?” A woman’s voice stirs you out of your deep slumber about two hours later. A gentle hand shakes your shoulder, just enough to wake you up. You grumble and rub your eye, intent on ignoring whoever this is and going back to sleep – it doesn’t register that you’re no longer restrained just yet. But she speaks again, and the words catch your attention. “Someone’s here to see you.”
Your eyes open and you push yourself up all at once, looking around the room. Did they find him that quickly? Is he going to take you home? A dangerous hope blooms within you, watching the door.
“Your parents are right outside. Do you want to say ‘hi’ to them?” The nurse asks.
Parents…?
The word feels foreign. Wrong. The only person in the world you have is Yunho, you know that. Your parents stopped looking for you. They don’t care. Their faces are blurry, names forgotten.
You don’t say anything to the nurse, staring at the mattress in silence, hoping she’ll go away. You hope everyone will just go away. The nurse gives you a minute to answer before going to the door, waving two people in.
A roughly middle-aged man and woman enter your room slowly. The woman clutches the man’s sleeve, staring at you through watery, round eyes. The man holds a small present in his shaking hands. They appear to be exhausted, maybe jet-lagged. There are dark circles under the man’s eyes like he hasn’t slept in days. They both look at you like you’re a ticking time bomb, ready to detonate at any second.
“Hi sweetie,” the woman says softly, keeping her distance even though you can tell it’s taking a lot of effort on her part to do so.
The man chimes in, “Hey, kiddo.” He stops himself from saying more.
The nurses must have said something to them.
Again, you don’t reply. You keep your eyes on them, watching and waiting for them to do something that Yunho wouldn’t like. Their being here… it doesn’t sit well with you. There’s absolutely no way Yunho would ever let them see you. Especially not unsupervised. For the hundredth time, you wonder where he is, why he’s letting this happen.
The two people in your room dare to come closer, and you tense with each step.
Misplaced blame shrouds them both.
Once they’re close enough to see the extent of your injuries, the woman collapses into one of the chairs near the bed.
“Oh, my poor baby.” She cries, unable to tear her gaze from the violent purple and red bruising that covers every inch of your throat up to your jaw, and down towards your chest.
Ugh.
This display of emotion annoys you – or maybe it’s hearing the nickname Daddy gave you coming from someone else’s lips. You even roll your eyes, though you instantly feel guilty for doing so. She weeps harder, covering her face with her hands as she tries to pull herself together. The man places a hand on her shoulder, and the small action triggers something.
A memory.
You remember the airport, waving goodbye to… someone. A man and a woman, the man’s hand on the woman’s shoulder. To control her? To comfort her? You can’t tell anymore. They had waved goodbye until you were out of their sight. They had shouted encouraging words after you so that they may follow you on your journey, far from home.
They had picked you up from school, taken you to doctor’s appointments, held your hand in the dentist’s chair, let you sleep in their bed when you woke up from a nightmare. One of them coached your soccer team when you were a kid, you just couldn’t remember which one. You loved them once.
This was all lifetimes ago, now.
You’re different. You’re not theirs. They stopped looking for you. They gave up.
Yunho would have torn the world apart if you ever went missing. He wouldn’t have stopped his search, not for anything. Of this, you’re certain.
“I’m sorry,” the woman says through sniffles, plucking a tissue from a nearby tissue box and wiping her eyes. “We’re so sorry, sweetie.”
You don’t look at them. You don’t want to, even though your body naturally starts to relax around them. It’s recognizing them before your brain does. The heart monitor records how your pulse gradually begins to slow to a normal pace.
The man changes the subject, pointing out the pile of presents. “Looks like you didn’t miss Christmas after all.”
You almost shrug. The most he gets in response is a slight twitch in your left shoulder.
“Do you wanna see what you got?” He asks.
Yes. But not with them. You don’t want them to touch what Yunho got you. The man picks one of the presents up, bringing it over to you. The tag is written in unfamiliar handwriting.
To: Y/N
From: All The Staff ♡
Oh… well, that’s nice of them, you suppose. All you do is stare at it, unmoving. It’s not from Yunho, so you really have no desire to open it.
But the man takes it upon himself when you don’t unwrap it. Growing more and more agitated, you clench your teeth, hands itching at your skin. You don’t want your first present to be from strangers. No.
You look away before you can see what it is.
“Oh wow,” he says, pulling the gift out of the box. “The staff got you a weighted blanket. That was nice of them.”
Your shoulders hunch and you bow your head, not wanting to hear. He places it over your legs, and it takes every single ounce of self-control to not throw it off of you like a petulant child. The weight of it feels claustrophobic, meant to keep you here forever.
“Gotta make sure to thank them when they come in again,” he reminds you innocently, but that’s the last straw.
He doesn’t tell you what to do. You press the call button for the nurse to come back in. You hope it’s the one you like.
“Are you okay, sweetie?” The woman asks, worry lacing between every syllable. Her eyes are still red from crying. “Are you in pain?”
Right away, the nurse you want comes in, her eyes sweeping across the room, trying to figure out what you need.
“Hey, honey. What’s going on?”
Keeping your head off to the side, all you do to answer is point over at the door. It only takes the nurse a second to realize what you want.
“Okay, no problem. Mom, Dad, we’ll see her tomorrow, okay?”
You want to correct that, to say that you don’t want to see them tomorrow at all, but remain silent. They’ll just keep coming back anyway. Deep down, you know you’re expected to go home with them. But that’s not what Yunho wants.
The woman cries again as the two of them leave, escorted out by the nurse, and you can hear her until she reaches the end of the wing. You don’t relax until you know they’re gone. With a swift kick, the blanket falls off the side of the bed, and the weight is gone as well. That’s enough excitement for one day, surely.
A knock on the door shatters that hope.
Thankfully though, it’s just the nurse from before. She lets herself in quietly, picking up the discarded blanket and setting it down over the back of one of the chairs instead of placing it back on you. Smart.
Then she sits down.
Neither of you say anything for a while, and you don’t look at her. You watch the clock like it’s the most fascinating thing to you, never wanting to miss a single second. You tap your finger against the mattress, the one with the pulse oximeter on it.
“It’ll all get easier,” the nurse says, this time startling you. “Just takes time, you know?”
She doesn’t expect a response, and you don’t really give her one. However, a shrug in response from you is still considered progress. She’ll gladly take it between the alternatives. You suppose she’s right, but you’re not happy about it. You don’t want to get used to a new normal, whatever it may look like. The uncertainty of it all scares you.
There’s another bout of silence.
“Your parents don’t know who ‘Yunho’ is… do you know his address or number?”
You used to know his number, but you haven’t exactly seen your phone in about a year. You’re pretty sure Yunho chucked it into the Han River the same night he took you. He couldn’t have it potentially alert your location and bring the police right to his doorstep, per se. You bite your lip, shaking your head. It’s frustrating to be able to remember select, small details like that, and not what happened recently. Or your parents.
Wanting more answers, you point at your throat and chest and then your wrist, hoping you’re making it clear you’re asking when this all happened. Two days ago? A week? The nurse tilts her head, confused. You point towards the Christmas tree and tap your wrist again.
After a few moments, she seems to understand.
“How many days since…?” She gestures to your injuries.
You nod, looking down again.
“It’s December twenty-seventh today, so… four days ago.”
Huh. So that’s why the man said you didn’t miss Christmas after all, even though technically you did. You woke up only yesterday, the twenty-sixth. A brief memory of being happy to know the date again flashes in your mind, but you can’t place when that was. December something. Someone had told you the date… who was it? Why can’t you just remember?
You look up at her, as if she has the answers. Speaking of names you don’t remember, you point at her nametag, unable to read it. You’re sure she’s told you before but you weren’t exactly in a get-to-know-you mood yesterday.
“My name?” She clarifies. You nod. “Jiyeon.”
Pretty. It’s nice to put a name to a face. You repeat it over and over in your head so you can maybe remember it later. Hopefully everything else will come back to you in time. It’s just going to be frustrating for now. At least you still remember Yunho. The thought of him is keeping you somewhat grounded while you’re here, though it raises a lot of questions you don’t have the answers to. And no one here knows who or where he is, which brings up even more unanswerable questions.
A loud siren blares through the hospital halls, calling all available medical staff to one of the rooms. An automated voice announces that it is a ‘Code Blue’ and Jiyeon springs up from her chair at once, telling you that she’ll be right back before rushing out. Before the door closes behind her, you see other nurses sprinting down the hall as well. You blink, and you’re alone again. The announcement stops after about another minute or so.
Jiyeon doesn’t come back right away like she said she would. Eventually, you just stop waiting for her to return. The silence creeps in, burrowing into your ears and you paw around at the blankets to try and find the remote for the TV. You find it on the table next to you, within reach. It’s similar to the remote you are used to in Yunho’s apartment, which is helpful. With a push of one of the buttons, the television blinks to life. Color explodes across the screen.
You relax once you see it’s some sort of children’s cartoon program, something that Yunho would allow you to watch. It entertains you for a while, but it quickly becomes too overstimulating. The voices and sound effects mixed with the bright colors proves too much for your head to handle at the moment. The channel switches to the news. The two anchors relay all the information about a recent bus crash somewhere in the city before moving on to a singing program, and you decide it’s good background noise. You lower the volume a little more, and turn on your side, intent on trying to fall asleep again.
An hour later, with no success, you just listen to the news anchors once they reappear on screen. You don’t want anyone to come in, but you are antsy that Jiyeon already broke a promise to you. She said she’d be right back. You know it’s selfish of you to think you’re the only patient that she should pay attention to, but you can’t help it. However, you guess you’re used to being alone.
Unfortunately, you’re not left alone for long. A nurse you don’t think you’ve met before comes in, alongside a tall man. A doctor in a long white coat, holding a clipboard. On sight, you instantly tense up, scooting farther up the bed to put distance between you and him. Your pulse quickens, and each pound of your heart hammers against your bruised chest.
“Hi, Y/N,” he says warmly, standing at the foot of your bed. “Glad to see you awake. I’m Dr. Ahn. I just wanted to touch base with you and see how you’re doing.”
You bring your knees in so your feet are no longer that close to him. If he’s going to touch you, you’re going to see him coming towards you first, which gives you time to act. You don’t like him saying your name so casually.
He’s obviously been briefed that you are refusing to speak, because he doesn’t wait for a response from you. He flicks through your chart like he’s reading the newspaper.
“Your vitals are looking good, so no issues there. We’ll be taking the chest tube out this afternoon, see if your lung is doing what it should be on its own. Your parents are gonna be here all day, so if you want them in here when that happens, just let us know.”
You glare at him as he gets closer, checking your IV bag. The squeak of his shoes against the floor make you nauseous. He notices you staring and offers a small smile.
“You’re very brave, you know,” he says, patting your knee. You resist the urge to bite his hand off. Your skin crawls, astounded at his audacity. A wave of anger and fear crashes into you all at once, and you shove his hand away. You ignore the surprise on his face, more preoccupied with how frightened and fed up you are. Can’t they just get all of this over with so you can go home? At this point, you’ll walk back. You don’t care if that’s what you have to do to get back there.
The doctor says something to you, but you ignore him. You watch the door, waiting for Yunho to come in and kill him for touching you.
The young nurse speaks up next, taking his place beside you.
“Y/N, I’m Nari. I’m a sexual assault nurse examiner. I would like to perform a Sexual Assault Forensic Exam on you, but only with your permission. It’ll be entirely up to you if you want to send the results to the police as evidence. Do you think that’s something you’d like to do?”
You freeze. Sexual assault?
Your pulse skyrockets. Is that what they think this is? Is that what you’re a victim of? Is this why they’re keeping Yunho from you? They don’t understand. No one does. Yunho didn’t put you in the hospital, surely not. He wouldn’t. He’d never hurt you this bad. Even when he had burned you, he made sure it wasn’t bad enough of an injury for you to need a visit to a hospital. He’s smarter than that. Minor injuries, or death. No in between, and certainly no hospitals. You breathe heavier and heavier, suddenly feeling like you can’t get enough air into your lungs.
Both of them see that you’re getting worked up again and back away, getting out of your space.
“It’s okay, honey,” Nari says, trying to calm you down.
You want to yell at them, scream, cry, throw things, but you force yourself to keep quiet and still. If they think Yunho made you into such a mess, you won’t just play into that theory so easily. No. You won’t prove them right by acting up.
You flip that same switch that always straightens you out. Suddenly you’re calm, indifferent. You can’t let them continue to think that Yunho was a bad influence on you, so you’ll be on your best behavior. However, you’ll still keep the no-touching boundary. You’ll talk to people when they’ve earned the right. You breathe normally again, settling back against the hospital pillow like nothing happened.
Dr. Ahn and Nari stare at you, utterly perplexed. You don’t meet their stunned gazes. In fact, you only look up again when you hear Dr. Ahn leave.
“It was nice meeting you, Y/N. I’ll see you later to remove the chest tube, alright?” He’s already halfway out the door before he finishes his sentence.
Nari lingers for a little longer before leaving as well. You almost relax once she’s gone but you hear her run into someone just outside your door.
“Jiyeon!” She says, “I’m glad I caught you.”
You perk up. Jiyeon was on her way back to your room.
“What’s going on?” You hear Jiyeon say, lowering her voice.
“Okay so… she’s refusing the SAFE,” Nari starts, seriousness lacing through her words.
Jiyeon exhales. “Okay,” she says, processing that as Nari continues.
“And she responded badly to Dr. Ahn. I think we should keep the male staff to an absolute minimum when it comes to treating her.”
“I agree,” Jiyeon says. “I’ve been trying to tell them.”
Your heart warms a little upon hearing that. She’s been sticking up for you even when you’re not around to hear it. She probably doesn’t realize you can hear her now.
“I’m gonna try and hold off the detectives until tomorrow. Does that sound good?”
“Yeah, she’ll be off the chest tube and in less pain, I think that’ll be okay. Her dad said the family lawyer flew in this morning, too. I’ll talk to her about it. I don’t want her getting caught off guard by such a big visit.”
“Okay… alright, thanks, Ji. Have a good rest of your shift.”
“Thanks, I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Knock knock.
Your door gently opens, and Jiyeon peeks in. You’re still curled up, knees bent and feet flat on the mattress, absentmindedly running your hand over the soft blanket.
“Hey, Y/N,” she smiles as she comes in, settling back down in the chair she was in earlier. “Doing okay?”
You nod, keeping your expression neutral.
“Good. Listen, I wanna talk to you about tomorrow. There are some people who would really love to come talk to you, and just figure out what’s been going on the past year. I can try to be in here with you, or, if I’m not available, I can get Mijoo to be there.” Mijoo must be the other nurse, the one who told you that your parents were here.
Jiyeon waits, giving you space and time to say anything before continuing.
“Y/N… I want you to know that all of these people, they just want to help you. Our number one goal is to help you in any way we can. Does that make sense, honey?”
The words impact you, but it just takes a while to process and believe them. They sound genuine coming from her, but you can’t say the same for the others that she’s talking about. Your trust is not so easily earned anymore. Especially not here. Jiyeon is nice, yes, but that doesn’t mean you trust her as much as you did Yunho or–
Oh my god–
There were two shots that night. Both hit their targets.
Three bodies in the snow.
Unbeknownst to Jiyeon, a certain word she said triggers a memory or two. There’s a familiar voice in your head, “There are other people who want to help you. Protect you.”
“Angel, please let me help you.”
Seonghwa’s injured. Mingi’s shot. They’re hurt. Hell, you don’t even know if they’re alive or dead. You cover your mouth with your hands.
Jiyeon’s voice cuts through your panic, “Seonghwa and Mingi?”
You realize you must have said their names out loud without even noticing.
“They came in with you,” she says, scooting her chair closer. She doesn’t try to touch you, which you appreciate in this state. “They’re here, don’t worry.”
“Alive?” You ask, and she hides her reaction to you speaking quite well, maintaining a calm demeanor.
“Stable,” she confirms. “I can’t really tell you anything else, for privacy reasons.”
The sigh of relief that leaves you is from your very soul.
Stable. Alive. Not dead.
If only you knew anything about Yunho.
“Can I see Seonghwa?” You hear yourself saying before you can stop yourself.
Jiyeon shifts, fidgeting with her ID badge. “I– I don’t know, honey. That may not be such a good idea.”
“Why not?” You ask, not understanding why you shouldn’t be allowed to see him.
She shifts again, avoiding eye contact with you, clearly trying to think of a professional answer that will satisfy your question without saying too much. She looks over her shoulder, towards the door. You follow her gaze, not understanding why she’s looking over there.
“I’ll ask,” she says finally, faking a quick, small smile. You don’t return it. “Anyway– back to what I was saying about tomorrow. Do you think you’ll be up for that?”
You almost forgot what she even said. It takes you a long moment to remember. Something about people who want to talk to you, that either she or Mijoo will be with you while they talk to you, how they want to help. Something tells you that you’ll have to do this eventually – it’s not something you can ignore.
You nod, even shrugging a little.
Jiyeon sighs with a small grin playing on her lips, and she pats the bed. “Great. I’ll let them know.”
She gets up to leave again, but you make a small noise, like a cat not wanting their owner to leave for work. There’s something you want to say, on Yunho’s behalf. It takes you a couple minutes to force the words out, pushing past the mental block.
“It’s… not assault,” you manage to get out. Jiyeon’s eyebrows furrow, but she says nothing, waiting for more. “He– he didn’t sexually assault me.”
Now her face is unreadable, but it’s clear she doesn’t believe that at all. It’s rather jarring when she doesn’t say anything back to you. She just pats the mattress again, and sees herself out.
You look away too quickly, missing the two policemen guarding your door.
You deflate once the door clicks shut behind her. The teddy bear continues to stare at you, still leaning against the footboard. You’re rather surprised you haven’t kicked it off in your sleep yet. Or maybe you have, and someone put it back on the bed.
Whatever.
You pull the blanket up and over you, ready for this day to be over already. At least you got some answers, though. Seonghwa and Mingi are accounted for. They’re both here, somewhere. Since you have similar injuries, you bet that Mingi is probably even on the same floor as you. Two people you know and are familiar with. They’re here and they’re ‘stable’.
It’s quite a comforting thought.
You hug the blanket, tucking it under your chin where the bruises aren’t so bad, and decide to try and sleep again.
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You get about three hours of sleep before you’re woken up to remove the chest tube from you.
Gladly.
Every time you breathe, you can feel it rubbing against your ribs. It’s rather uncomfortable.
It’s a semi-quick procedure, albeit a bit painful as it’s being removed. Later, they wheel you into a room to be X-rayed, to make sure your lungs remain expanded, working properly. Judging by the satisfied looks on the nurses faces, it must be a success.
By the time you get back to your room, you’re exhausted, but you already know you’re not going to be able to go to sleep until tonight. You eat your lunch quietly, finishing everything on the plate and showing Mijoo when she comes back in to take the tray away. You flick through the same channels before finally giving up and landing on the sports network. It’s a replay of a baseball game from over the summer. You’ve never been interested, but you remember Yunho talking about a team he liked several months ago. You can’t think of the name of the team for the life of you, but you know it isn’t either of the ones on screen right now. Hm.
You’re trying to figure out and understand the rules of the game when there’s a soft knock on your door. As usual, you don’t really react, but your eyes instantly snap to the door, waiting to see who walks in.
It’s two men. One is obviously a police officer of some kind, complete with a badge pinned to his chest. You’re taken aback by his presence entirely. The second man, you don’t recognize at first. Dressed head to toe in black, sunglasses on even though he’s indoors, face mask, and black fluffy hair. It’s the hair that gives him away, as well as the sweater he’s wearing.
“Seonghwa!” You gasp, sitting up.
He takes his sunglasses off, looking over at your window. Of course you still had the shades drawn. He won’t need his glasses in here. Unsteadily and slowly, he makes his way over to the chair by your bed, taking your hand in his when you reach out for him. He sets something down on the floor that you didn’t realize he was holding before. His eyes linger on the officer who stays put by the door, waiting to see if he’ll break you two apart.
“Hi, angel,” he says quietly, like talking any louder will earn him another concussion. The officer shoots him a look, which Seonghwa sheepishly looks away from.
You lower the TV volume, as well as the volume of your voice, “Are you okay?”
He shrugs, glancing down at his sunglasses that dangle off of his free hand. The obvious answer is ‘no’. You both know that.
“Linear skull fracture. Could’ve been worse. I got discharged today,” he says, lightly touching the back of his head. On instinct, he checks for blood when he lowers his hand back down. “Are you okay?”
You squeeze his hand, bringing it closer to you. “Yes… kind of. They want to bring in detectives tomorrow to talk to me.” As you finish your sentence, you look over towards the officer. He doesn’t look like he’s paying too much attention to what you’re saying. Then again, you could be wrong.
You still have no idea what he’s doing here.
Seonghwa nods, taking that in. He pulls his face mask off too, putting it in his pocket. His lip is split but healing, the skin there a noticeably darker color. The dark circles under his eyes are fading, and his skin has more color to it than before. That’s good. He looks much better than last you saw him. He looks alive.
“You should talk to them.” He clears his throat, playing with the face mask and sunglasses in his hand.
“Okay…” you acquiesce. Only Seonghwa could’ve made you agree to do that. Him or Yunho. Maybe that’s why the nurses let him in to visit you.
Seonghwa chews the inside of his cheek for a moment or two, looking down at your intertwined hands before seeming to remember something.
“Oh yeah,” he mutters to himself, leaning down to give you what he had brought in. It’s a little gift bag, with sparkly white tissue paper peeking out at the top. You prop yourself up even more. He glances over at the pile of presents on the desk, comparing the size of some of them. He hopes you like what they got you.
“The boys and I, um… we got you this.”
You unlock your hand from his so you can open your gift, setting the tissue paper down on your lap to unveil two items: a leather-bound journal, and a small, flat box. You pause, knowing what type of box this is. Seonghwa’s leg bounces from nerves, alternating between watching you open it, and the baseball game that apparently just got interesting. You take the journal out first, flipping through the fresh, blank pages. The edges are silver lined. The leather feels expensive, definitely high quality, and there’s a pure white ribbon attached to the spine of it for you to use as a bookmark.
“I needed a new one,” you murmur, saying it more to yourself than to Seonghwa. “Thank you.”
You set it down on your lap, peering into the gift bag to see if that box is still inside. It is. It wasn’t an illusion or trick of the light. You pick it up like it’ll break, glancing up at Seonghwa as if to verify that they really got you jewellery of some kind. His leg keeps bouncing rapidly, carefully watching your reaction.
Engraved within the deep maroon lid, is the word, ‘Cartier’, and your heart skips a beat. No way. When you lift the lid off, you’re met with a stunning silver bracelet, thin and delicate and beautiful. There are tiny black stones intricately embedded into the silver, and you look back at Seonghwa for answers on what they are.
“It’s obsidian,” he explains rather sheepishly, “it’s meant to um… it’s supposed to protect you. At least, that’s what Wooyoung said.”
“Wow,” you breathe, almost too nervous to take it out and try it on. It looks so dainty and fragile nestled between the velvet interior of the box. “It’s just… it’s so beautiful. Thank you.”
Seonghwa scoots forward, taking it from the box to help you put it on. It’s so light against your skin, and it catches what little light filters through the shades effortlessly. If you thought the journal was expensive, this must be worth so much more. You bring your wrist up to your face, looking at it closer. Every single detail is perfect. How did they– why did they do this for you?
“You deserve it,” Seonghwa says, as if he was reading your thoughts.
There’s a long pause between the two of you. The baseball game and the accompanying commercials break up the silence adequately. Your free hand keeps touching the bracelet, running your finger over the deep black stones. It’s much prettier than the hospital one you have to wear. The officer keeps staring at Seonghwa, like he’s waiting for him to make a wrong move, or say the wrong thing. Occasionally, you’ll steal a quick glance over to both of them before returning back to the game. Before long, you and Seonghwa just pretend to be interested in it, unwilling to talk about anything serious just yet.
“Do you…” you swallow hard, hoping he’ll actually tell you something about this. “Do you know why Yunho hasn’t come to see me? Is he still mad at me?”
Seonghwa pales.
The officer clears his throat. Seonghwa stops talking. You glare at the officer, anger flaring up.
“Can you give us some privacy, please?” You ask, tone more impolite than your words. When the officer doesn’t move, ignoring you to just continue staring directly at Seonghwa, you almost lose it. You’re so tired of not being listened to here. And the way he’s just standing there silently, observing and eavesdropping like an invasive ghost is making your fucking skin itch.
“An– Y/N, he has to be in here with me… it’s for your safety.” Seonghwa explains in a meeker, unsteady voice.
“You won’t hurt me,” you insist, a little surprised at how much you actually believe that. It was barely a formed thought in your head before you said it out loud. It must be true. “He won’t,” you say to the officer, trying to convince him.
Seonghwa takes your hand again, “It’s alright, it’s alright. He has to be in here to make sure that we’re both safe. That we’re not mixing up our stories.”
You bring his hand closer, frustrated tears starting to gloss over your eyes.
“I don’t understand…” you mumble dejectedly. “I can’t even remember most of it.”
He gets it. His memory is just as patchy, if not worse due to his injury. “No one’s expecting anything from you right now. All you need to do is focus on getting better.”
You try to agree with him, stubborn as you are. You know he’s right. In time, you will know everything, you’re sure. It’s just hard to be patient when there are gaps in your memory you’d really like to fill. Which brings you to ask your next question.
“Have you seen Mingi?” You ask, suddenly very interested in your blanket, avoiding eye contact for now. You feel kind of stupid for asking, but are curious nevertheless. Of all people, you know that Seonghwa will give you the answers you’re looking for if you ask him.
He sighs shakily, squeezing your hand tighter. “I’ve heard that he’s okay. I’m not really allowed to see him.” It’s obvious that he’s trying extra hard to cherry-pick the words he uses in front of you and the officer.
‘Keep it vague,’ they had told him before entering your room. ‘Don’t push it.’ Jiyeon had to pull so many strings to even get him allowed to be in the room in the first place. Even more to allow him to bring the gift in. Seonghwa knows his lawyer is probably freaking out right about now. Oh, well.
“But– why–?” You shake your head, pressing your free hand to your forehead. You know you should just drop it, but you can’t. “Seonghwa, where is Yunho? Tell me.”
He leans back, away from you and peeks over at the cop. This, he knows, he really cannot say anything about.
Basically, he only knows what Wooyoung and Jongho told him. Both of them came to the hospital yesterday to visit him, and to supply him with some updates, as well as your gift on the off chance he’s allowed to give it to you. In a word, the two of them are conflicted about their roles in all of this. They feel just as guilty, but were never as involved as the rest of the group. Hongjoong, effectively, saved them from most of the legal trouble the others are currently facing now. They’re free. They spent one night at the police station, answering questions, and that has been it so far.
Hence, the need for a cop or two outside your room, as well as Mingi’s. It makes everyone who knows more details about this than the general public feel more at peace, knowing that there are two that essentially ‘got away with it’.
Wooyoung and Jongho told him that Yunho has been charged with aggravated assault since neither you, Seonghwa, or Mingi died. However… they’re having a hard time finding any concrete evidence to pin any of the attacks on him. They have the group as witnesses to the shooting of Mingi, but nothing else. Just word of mouth simply isn’t good enough. It’s highly likely that Mingi will testify against Yunho, so his security will be ramped up soon. Apparently, since the boys told them, the cops working your case have been trying to find any evidence that links him with the manager’s death, and the girls before you. The apartment has been picked apart piece by piece, swept through by forensic teams and equipment. Evidence collected, bagged, and shipped off for analysis. The detectives have a lot of grieving families and loved ones looking at them for answers right now. The pressure is building.
You are their miracle. The one who can put him away for good.
The question is: will you?
“Tell me, Seonghwa. Please?” You shake his hand, trying to convince him.
“He…” Seonghwa gradually begins to shake, pulling at the collar of his sweater with his free hand, looking anywhere but at you. He’s just so nervous as to how you’ll react. The only way to find out though, is by telling you.
But the officer beats him to it.
“He’s been arrested. That’s all you need to know.”
Seonghwa winces, and you blink.
First of all, you’re angry that the cop so rudely interrupted your – what should be – private conversation, and secondly, what he said just doesn’t compute.
“Was Hongjoong arrested too?” You ask Seonghwa in a quieter voice, ignoring the cop once again.
He takes a deep breath. “No… not yet, at least. But they’re gathering evidence against us–”
“What more evidence do they need?” You interrupt, gesturing towards yourself.
“What?” He asks, eyebrows furrowing together in total confusion.
“Hongjoong shot me.”
Now Seonghwa is really taken aback. Who told you that?
He blinks before repeating his last question, “What?”
“Hongjoong shot me.” You repeat yourself as well. In your patchy memory, what you do recall seeing clear as day is Hongjoong reaching for the gun right before you were shot, and holding it in his hand afterwards. It makes sense to you that that is what happened.
The cop in the corner starts to get antsy, silently making sure his bodycam is still recording everything accurately. Anything said in here has to be reported back, especially if it relates directly to the case. You saying that someone else shot you could be detrimental to the aggravated assault charge they booked Yunho with.
“A-angel, no…no, no, Hongjoong didn’t shoot you. Yunho did.” Seonghwa says as gently as possible, subconsciously leaning farther back to avoid a potential explosion. This time, the officer lets the pet name slide.
“How do you know?” You snap at him. “You were unconscious almost the whole time.”
He doesn’t even flinch. “Wooyoung and Jongho told me.”
Well… Wooyoung and Jongho were definitely awake during that whole ordeal, so it’s hard to discredit what they say. Nevertheless, your mind argues against believing it. They’re just trying to demonize Yunho, surely. Of course.
“No, that… he wouldn’t… that doesn’t make sense.”
Your breathing turns erratic, though you fight to control it. The thing is, it does make sense.
Even if you deny it, your memory reorders itself.
Hongjoong trying to get the gun away from Yunho, he grabbed his arm, not the gun. Not until after you were already on the ground. Even then, you try to reason against your memory that because he touched Yunho, the shot was accidentally aimed at you. That explanation would satisfy you if you didn’t remember moving to protect Seonghwa at the same exact time. The look of pure shock on Yunho’s face… wasn’t because Hongjoong shot you. It was because he shot you.
Well… you always knew he would. He’d made it clear to you that he would. This is an outcome you’ve been trained to expect if you acted out. You stood in front of a loaded and aimed gun. That probably counts.
Contrary to what Seonghwa expects, you process this information quietly. There’s no outburst. Not yet. Just a silent realization that you’ve been wrong. Confident in your incomplete and ungrounded recollection. You go into damage control right away. It was an accident. He didn’t mean to. But there’s a price to having your memory begin to repair itself: the truth. You had prepared to die. You accepted it.
And yet the knowledge that Yunho isn’t coming to bring you home nearly kills you. All the time you wasted in this room waiting for him, wondering why he let you come here…
So, you attach yourself to the nearest person. As usual. You clutch Seonghwa’s hand with both of yours, desperate to keep him here. Maybe he’ll take you back to the apartment. You can wait there until Yunho is released, right? They can’t make you go home with your parents. You’re an adult. But you can’t convince yourself that you can function on your own. And you can’t ask Seonghwa to uproot his life, though a selfish part of you wants to. However, before you interrupted him, he mentioned that the police are gathering evidence ‘against us’.
The thought of losing Seonghwa next is almost catastrophic.
Your pulse spikes, beeping incessantly on the monitor. Unfortunately, the cop notices. And, with the worst timing imaginable as you feel the world as you know it on the brink of falling apart, the officer takes a step towards Seonghwa.
“That’s enough. Let’s go.”
Without a fight, Seonghwa stands, sending an apologetic look your way.
“No, no, don’t–” You pull him back, “Please, please don’t leave.”
“It’s okay–” He tries to reassure you, but the cop pulls him by the arm, breaking you two apart.
You call his name again, but the officer hurries him out, calling for a nurse. You don’t want a nurse. You want him to bring Seonghwa back to you. Alone, preferably. Body shaking uncontrollably, you throw the blankets off of you, and set your feet on the ground, trying to remain steady. You’re already out of breath by this point, and sobbing rather loudly from distress. Not a good combination for your lungs. Again, your pulse increases its pace.
You don’t even hear Jiyeon come in, but suddenly she is at your side, helping you lay back down. No one is listening to you. Jiyeon said they care, that they want the best for you, so why can’t they just give you what you obviously really want?
Jiyeon is saying something to you, but the world suddenly seems so far away and way too close all at once. The feeling of her hand around your wrist causes you to panic, reminding you of the rope tied around it a few nights ago, as well as the restraints on the hospital bed, and you twist and yank it out of her hold. You must’ve accidentally scratched her because she too pulls her hand back quickly, keeping it close to her chest as she assesses the damage done to it. Nothing bad, but you definitely scratched her hard.
Another nurse runs in, then two more. Jiyeon shoos them out before they can crowd your space and overwhelm you more, calmly but firmly telling them that she’s fine and to go back out. It was her own fault, touching you in this kind of state. She’s just worried about you.
Once back down against the pillows, you keep your hand on your chest. You’re not sure why… maybe you’re just waiting to feel your lungs collapse or your heart stop. Something to blame this panic on other than the truth.
The truth that everyone you have loved has left or is leaving you.
“Honey, let’s calm down now. Tell me what’s wrong.” Jiyeon prompts after checking your vitals to make sure you’re stable.
“They took him,” you sob, looking back at the door to the room, hoping and praying he comes back in. “I– I got upset ‘n panicked so they t–took him away.”
Jiyeon nods sympathetically as you talk, giving you the space to air everything out that’s weighing on you.
“I ruined it, I ruined everything,” your voice pitches all over the place. “They’ll never let me see them again.”
The door doesn’t open, no matter how many times you look over at it, and no matter how hard you internally beg him to come back. No one is coming to save you anymore. That plan has already been carried out. Yunho’s locked up somewhere, Seonghwa isn’t allowed to see you unsupervised, and even if you decided that you wanted to see him as well, you’re sure Mingi is beyond off-limits now, too. Especially if and when he tells the truth.
God… everything is such a mess, and it’s all your fault. If you had told Yunho about the plan to get you out, maybe none of this would’ve happened. There’d be hell to pay, sure, but you wouldn’t have disappointed him as badly. If you didn’t look at Mingi through rose-colored glasses, maybe you'd still be in the apartment, impatiently waiting for Yunho to come home. Mingi wouldn’t have been shot. Seonghwa would’ve never gotten hurt that badly. Yunho wouldn’t have been taken from you. Glancing around at your hospital room, a heavy thought makes you sink deeper against the pillows.
Technically, you aren’t even supposed to be here. And you don’t just mean in this hospital.
You wipe your eyes with the corner of the blanket until Jiyeon hands you a couple of tissues. They’re from the box that your mom had used that morning. Another wave of guilt crashes over you, remembering how you’d been rather mean to her.
She lets you cry it all out. You’re not sure how long that takes. When you eventually calm down just enough to speak again, you crumple the tissue in your hand, staring at it for a moment.
“Are my parents still here?” You ask, tossing the tissue into the nearby trashcan.
Jiyeon nods. “They are. They’ll be here tomorrow as well.”
You bite your lip. You’re not ready to see them again, moreso out of fear that you’ll end up hurting them again. But it’s a nice thought that if you need them, they’re available. It’s a tricky thing to want to be alone, but not feel alone.
“Tomorrow…” you echo, not finishing the rest of your thought out loud. Maybe tomorrow you can try again. Your eyes flick over to her, hoping she understands.
As usual, she does.
Once she makes sure you’re calm for the time being, she jots down your vitals for her notes later, and sighs.
“Okay, honey,” she says, and pats the side of the bed again, “I’ll talk to them. Get some rest for now, I’ll have Mijoo bring in some dinner later. Okay?”
You respond with a short hum, retreating back into your silence. Maybe it’s best if you’re just seen and not heard after all. Maybe Yunho was right… of course he’s right. But something demands to be said. It sits uncomfortably in your mouth, pressing against your teeth and blocking your airway until you let it out. Jiyeon twists the door handle, just about to let herself out.
“I was supposed to die…” you mumble, sniffling into your pillow. You trace the silver bracelet against your skin.
Jiyeon freezes in place, the door halfway open. She doesn’t look back at you, doesn’t try to put you right. The staff assigned to you have recently been notified of what happened.
She knows you’re right.
The door closes behind her with a small click, and you’re alone again. And being alone is exactly what you wanted, and at the same time, your biggest fear.
· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·
The rest of the afternoon into the evening goes by less eventfully.
You manage to sleep, even sleeping through your prescribed dinnertime, and wake up to a tray covered in tinfoil to keep the food hot. You eat slowly, having no one to show your progress to, and come to terms with the fact that Yunho isn’t going to find out if you ate everything you’ve been given or not. It’s rather hard to ignore that so far, they haven’t given you proper utensils to eat with. More like knives and forks for kids, rounded and blunt so as to not inflict any potential damage to the user. The spoons are always nice, though. You lazily push around some of the rice left on your tray, a little unnerved that no one’s watching you anymore… and a little relieved.
No more newcomers or visitors come into your room for the rest of the day. As night creeps in, you keep replaying your interaction with Seonghwa. You wish you can just be… you don’t know. Normal? Is that the word? Everyone looks at you like you’ll shatter any moment, and they’re basically right. You pretty much proved that today. But what he said sticks with you: “No one’s expecting anything from you right now. All you need to do is focus on getting better.”
So that’s what you’ll do. Yunho placed him in charge of you while he was gone, and now it’s just extended time. You follow directions, you obey orders. That’s what you’re good at. That’s what you can concentrate on for now, until you and Yunho can see each other again.
If they’ll let you.
You run a hand through your hair as if to push that thought away, but your hand gets caught halfway through. Ugh… you haven’t bathed in way too long. You look towards the bathroom, hesitant to go in. Mijoo had told you how to properly wash around the stitches and bandages to avoid any infections or accidentally removing them. It’s just… the water.
Facing the water by yourself is more daunting than you know it should be. But you feel just gross enough to at least try. You decide to at least stay in there long enough to wash your hair, you feel like you can still smell the forest air from each strand.
It’s a slow trek from your bed to the bathroom, often taking breaks to breathe and reset. Luckily, it’s not too far of a distance. You manage a small grin at your efforts when you finally reach your destination, this being the farthest you’ve walked by yourself since you’ve been here. But now, you have to continue standing up and face one of your biggest fears. One hurdle down.
Flicking on the light, your ears ring at the sudden, blinding brightness of the sterile room. It’s a small space, no bigger than Yunho’s closet. The strong scent of the level of cleanliness in here disagrees with what you just ate, but you try to ignore it as best you can.
You almost back into the door when you catch a glimpse of yourself in the bathroom mirror. For the first time, you see how bad your injuries still are. Nasty red and purple bruises cover your throat and neck, your chest is basically grey from the severity of the surgery you underwent, and your eyes and cheeks are both sunken in. You’re scary. A patchwork nightmare. After being so used to keeping up appearances for Yunho, this is like getting a lightning bolt straight to the brain. This is what Seonghwa saw when he walked in earlier today. You cover your face with your hands.
“Oh, god…” you lean against the door for support, sneaking another glimpse at your startling reflection. You’re not just smaller, you’re diminished. The hospital gown wilts off of your thin frame like it’s meant for someone else, there’s a matching cut on your bottom lip that’s similar to Seonghwa’s, and a hauntedness about you that doesn’t sit right at all. A would-be corpse stares back at you through the mirror. You can almost see the dirt that’d be covering you, embedded into your decaying skin.
All you want to do at this moment is to wash that corpse away.
Undressing winds you, but you’re too determined now. You have all night to sleep, and you know you’ll feel much better once you’re clean. It’s just the process of getting clean you have to get through now. That’s your one and only goal for tonight.
The rush of the water hitting the tile nearly decimates all of your confidence in one fell swoop, though. You have to grit your teeth and close your eyes, pushing back against the memories as they come. You force yourself to breathe deeply as you finally step into the shower, the warm water only comforting for a fleeting moment. Turning your back to it helps a little, and after a while your shoulders start to relax, no longer tense and hunched by your ears. The lack of curtain aids you tremendously, as you can see the entirety of the bathroom at once, knowing you’re still safe. No one’s watching you or keeping track of how long you’re taking. You can take this as slowly as you want to.
Keep going, you tell yourself.
It also helps to imagine that Yunho is just outside, waiting for you to return to bed, even though your brain keeps replacing him with Seonghwa. Now that you know what you looked like today, you feel a huge crash of embarrassment overcome you more than anything else. You forget your fear just for a second, leaning a little farther back than you are ready for. The water cascades down, dripping off the ends of your hair and you freeze.
This part is the biggest hurdle.
You’re not in the apartment… you’re not in trouble… you control it.
You have control.
The droplets that drip past your ears kind of make you want to die, but you push through it. Little by little, you tilt your head back, letting more and more of the water fall over your hair. You cover your face with your hands, keeping it as dry as possible, and just sit with the discomfort for as long as you can. Instead of any feelings of accomplishment, you only notice the beginnings of panic stirring somewhere in your body. Time to wrap it up while you’re able to keep yourself in here. Shampooing is easy, and you get through rinsing your hair okay, repeating the process even slower than before.
By the time you get out, you still don’t feel very proud. Not yet. You’re exhausted, and ready to lay down again. What warms your heart as you finally step out is thinking about how much Yunho had praised you after every bath since that day he corrected you. To the best of your ability, you combat every negative, fearful thought with something you think Yunho would say to you. How proud he’d be. It’s enough to keep you on your unsteady, weakening legs to redress and open the door back out into the room.
Halfway back to bed, that’s when the exhaustion really hits you. You sit down in a chair by the window and catch your breath. You’re not dizzy, but you’re definitely caught between the borderline. Looking up, you see that your water is both mere feet and hundreds of miles away.
“Fuck…” you sigh.
Your hand jumps to cover your mouth, horrified. You look around the room out of instinct, waiting for someone to yell at you for saying such a vulgar word. You know better. Only Daddy is allowed to say that word. Yet the room stays the same. Nothing happens. No one redirects you.
But they’ll have it on camera, you tell yourself. In the dark, you try to find where they’ve hidden theirs. You don’t see any.
You’re digesting this when something blinks at you from outside.
Something white casts the faintest glow past the edges of the shades that cover the windows. High in the sky and constant, unblinking and unmoving – at least not that you can see from where you are. It is no plane or light atop a building.
The moon.
You hadn’t seen it in such a long time. In all honesty, you had stopped trying to look for it, especially after Yunho covered up all the windows. The sunlight in the apartment could only creep in around the sides, lighter than air and able to weave its way past the smallest opening. The moonlight was never granted access to you. But this moon tonight is full and glowing brightly, and you wish you could see it properly beyond the shades.
It hits you hard: you don’t have to wish to see the sky anymore.
You lean forward before stopping and looking back over your shoulder, just waiting for someone to stop you at any second. You sweep the room one more time for cameras. Maybe you’re tired and missed one because you didn’t look hard enough. Regardless, no matter how hard you search and double check, you find none. Your hand pulls the shades back, only about two inches, just to peek. No one appears behind you. The shade lifts easily, opening even further. No one intervenes.
The window is now fully uncovered, unobstructed. And you’re unharmed. Your forehead presses against it, your breath fogging up the glass as you exhale through your mouth.
The snow is in the process of melting away, only a couple of inches left on the ground. The roads below, from what you can see, are completely clear with the amount of hospital traffic in a big city like Seoul. There’s no one outside on the streets, just a couple of nurses, doctors, and other hospital staff leaving work for the day, pulling their puffer coats closer to their bodies as they juggle their car keys and bags. Stoplights take their turns turning green, yellow, red, and cars glide past to dozens of unknown destinations. You decide you like the world like this, with less people and quieter streets. Sleepily humming instead of the shouting of car horns, the music in stores to entice people inside, the hundreds and thousands of strangers that you’ll never know the names or stories of.
You wonder if you’ll feel like this forever, always looking at life from above and never from within.
It’s quieter in the world that Yunho has kept you in. Safer… right?
‘You’re safe,’ says the voice that sounds more and more like you, slowly advancing forward again, venturing back from her forced hibernation. The other voice in your head is still there, just without her pedestal and carrying less authority than before. Less weight to each word. That one doesn’t have too much to say tonight, which is a first.
You stay by the window until sleep beckons you, unwilling to sleep so uncomfortably in the stiff chair. When you finally tear yourself from the view, closing the shades again and tucking yourself back in bed, you fall asleep with moonlight flooding the entire suite. Though a part of you misses the tealights, you think this is not a bad alternative.
· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·
Head clearer than it has been since you woke up, the next day carries the calm theme from last night.
You’re still selective on who you give your voice to – Jiyeon is off today, so you’ve been mostly silent so far – but there seems to be… life within you again. More than what the staff have seen thus far. It’s promising. It’s better. Everyone’s feeling a similar cautious optimism to your sudden switch. Although they’re quick to note your ever-present, continuing aversion to male staff.
Which is why you’re still nervous about meeting with these detectives soon. They’re supposed to be here in two hours, and you don’t feel ready. Exactly what you’re not feeling ready for, you’re not sure. It’s not something you can pinpoint exactly and neutralize the problem. Unfortunately, you’re sure you’ll find out if and when the detectives do something to unintentionally set you off. You sigh, once again feeling out of control in a situation that hasn’t even happened yet.
You push your empty lunch tray further away, like it’s offended you by overstaying its welcome. Your hands itch to wash it, to be good. The television is a good distraction. Today you’ve got it tuned into a nature documentary. You have a theory that maybe seeing the outside world inside may help you assimilate back into it later if need be, although deep down, you really hope you don’t have to. It’s the fear talking, but it's so loud and impossible to ignore. It’s the self-doubt that makes you want to give up and turn the TV off altogether, the memory of going out onto the balcony and feeling fresh air again hitting you hard. And the woods… that’s a whole other battle.
Let’s just say you’re very happy the little Christmas tree in the corner of your room is fake. The scent of sap and bark will haunt you for quite a long time.
At two o’clock, you’re making some progress, walking around your room, still avoiding the pile of presents you’ve yet to open. The gift Seonghwa gave you is enough. You’re just trying to build up endurance again, impatiently wanting to walk without difficulty. For some reason, it felt much easier to walk last night. Maybe it’s because at night it feels like less eyes on you, no spotlight from the sun even if the shades block most of it out. The day just feels too exposing. There’s too many people who could walk in and start fussing over you. You don’t want that. You know your limits better than anyone else.
You may as well have spoken it into existence though, because you’re just catching your breath when you hear someone coming right up to your door. As if you’re getting caught doing something you’re not supposed to be doing, you quickly sit in the chair by the window that you were in last night. The door opens just as you sit down. At first, you avoid eye contact with whoever it is, hoping that they don’t comment that you’ve moved. Giving yourself something to do to really sell the nonchalance, you play with your new bracelet again. The person in your room pauses near your bed, mere feet from you. You almost cover the bracelet protectively, not wanting them to ask where you got it… or who gave it to you.
“I’m glad you liked our present,” a man’s soft voice says, cutting through the silence.
You react at a record speed. You know that voice. It’s the same one you heard in here yesterday.
“Oh my god–! Seonghwa!” You nearly shout, standing up a bit too quickly than you’re used to.
He must see you stumble or sway, because he makes it to your side in two strides, hands ready to catch you if you fall back into the chair. But you’re determined. You stay upright. You resist the urge to paw at him, to make sure he’s real and that he’s here again so soon. He fusses with you to sit, to rest ‘like he told you yesterday’, he nags. If it was anyone else, you’d be staring daggers at them right now. With him, it just warms your heart, and you cooperate, sitting down slowly and smiling as you watch him drag a chair over to sit with you. You’re just happy he’s here.
He’s wearing sunglasses indoors again, so the bright lights of the hospital must still be bothering him. You look over at the shades, just in case they can be drawn any tighter to totally block out what little light comes in.
“Technically you asked for me specifically, so they let me come back. Still supervised, of course.” He answers your question before you even ask it. You look away from him for the first time and see a different officer than before, standing by the still-open door. “The door will just stay open the entire visit. Alright?”
Honestly, you’ll take it. It’s a small price to pay if it means that Seonghwa is allowed to come see you.
“Yes, sir,” you say habitually.
You watch his small grin slip completely from his face. The room feels a bit colder.
He supposes he can’t just expect all the ‘training’ and trauma you endured to just melt away all at once merely because you’ve been freed of Yunho, but he can’t deny that it shocked him back into reality. Such a small, simple word, and yet the history within its use is ten months long.
Seonghwa ignores the moniker usage, and does a really good job of pretending that that doesn’t affect him at all. But it does. You can tell it does.
You self-consciously look away, hand still covering up the bracelet as if you’re scared he’ll take it away as a result of his disapproval of your word choice. Gifts are never permanent, never your sole property. They are privileges, not rights. Based on a reward system, they’re the best way to steer you towards good behavior – following rules, staying quiet, knowing your place.
Luxuries can be taken away.
“I– um,” you stall, trying to change the subject, “how– how are you?”
Glad to shift the focus somewhere else, Seonghwa replies, “I’m alright. How about you?”
“Okay. I have my ‘meeting’ soon… the lawyers.” You glance at the clock, hoping that time hasn’t somehow jumped forward an hour. You hope this time Seonghwa will stay for longer.
He scratches the back of his neck. “Right,” he says, keeping his tone as natural as possible. “I had one of my own this morning.”
There’s an uneasiness to his voice there that you pick up on. He still hasn’t removed his glasses, so you can’t tell if he’s looking at you or not. Something’s not sitting right, and it’s not just because of a certain word slip. He must notice your look of concern, because he rolls his shoulders back, trying to relax himself. The facade he kept up around you at the apartment is getting to be too heavy to carry with him now.
“The story will break tomorrow,” he says through an obviously fake grin, trying to make you not feel guilty about it. He keeps his eyes fixed on the floor. Once or twice, he looks up at your bracelet that you’re still playing with.
It takes you a minute to understand what he’s saying. You adjust how you’re sitting, just to give yourself something to do. All you can say in response is, “Oh.”
‘The story’... reported by outside perspectives with a mystery narrative. No one has asked for your side of it all yet. The boys have probably already given their testimonies, their witness statements as to what happened. Days ago, most likely. That’s one thing you forgot about while staring out the window last night: the world keeps turning. It doesn’t wait around for you. But that’s what today is for. The public can have their crumbs of facts and multitudes of theories about you, but only those closely involved will ever really know the truth of all of it.
“Listen… as far as, y’know, the legal aspect of everything, we want you to know that we will accept any charges you wish to file against us.”
There’s a grim, solemn air around Seonghwa that unsettles you. The cop by the door side-eyes the two of you but ultimately says nothing. He’s better than the one yesterday, that’s for sure.
But… charges. You vs. all of them. Your legal team against eight different sets. Nine stories, all with varying perspectives. You wonder if anything you say will hold any weight to it on account of how bad the fogginess in your memory has become. You wonder if Seonghwa’s worried about the same thing. He keeps subconsciously touching the back of his head, making sure nothing is behind him that could hit it. You desperately want to ask how that happened, but it’s probably a not so pleasant subject to talk about. You’d rather avoid making him feel more uncomfortable than he already is.
In the silence between you, Seonghwa just listens to the background noise coming from the hospital hallways. The nurse’s station is mere feet from your door, so he lets their quiet chatter fill in the spaces. What he said to you is true; they will accept any charge brought onto them. It’s the very least they can do for you, to accept full responsibility for not doing more.
The public is going to eviscerate every last one of them, and they brought it on themselves the countless times they could’ve gone to the police and didn’t. All for the same result. Yunho threatened to drag them down with him, and it’s happening, albeit by their volition.
A gentle, repeated three-note chime coming from his phone seems to pull him back from his brief stupor. Automatically, he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small medicinal bottle. You watch as he taps two white pills into his palm before popping them into his mouth, chasing them down with water.
“Pain-killers,” he explains, twisting the cap of the water bottle back on. He leans back in his chair, but not before feeling the air around where his head will be, and sighs. The exhale comes from deep within his chest. You watch his hands, searching for something. He notices you looking.
“What?”
“You’re not wearing your ring.” You point out.
Seonghwa looks down at his hand, as if to confirm. “Yeah,” he mumbles, “it just… doesn’t feel right anymore.”
In all honesty, he didn’t think you’d even notice. He had taken it off on the second day of his hospital admission, when Yeosang and San had come to visit him. It felt heavy in his palm, like a weight that he could no longer bear. He’s not quite sure where it is, as he told San to take it back to the dorms, wherever they had all put theirs. The only ring missing from the pile is Yunho’s, but it has more than likely been confiscated by that point already.
“What time is your meeting?” He asks, changing the subject.
You glance at the clock on the wall. “It’s at three,” you inform him, finding a stray piece of hair to play with. You lean back against your chair, mirroring him. “How long can you stay?”
At this, he hesitates. The officer by the door offers no help or answer.
“Well… I can stay until the detectives get here.” He says uncertainly. Again, the cop says nothing to contradict what he says.
You nod. “My parents may get here before them.”
“Ah…” Seonghwa rubs his arm, a subconscious way to try and calm himself. “I doubt they’ll want to see me hanging around you.”
“I asked for you,” you counter, leaning forward again for emphasis, wanting him to hear and remember that part. “I get… I get nervous when you’re gone.” You admit in a murmur, barely audible.
Seonghwa still doesn’t look at you, staring off a thousand yards into the tile floor, his hand on his arm pausing a couple of seconds every so often before continuing the attempt to soothe himself. Honestly, he doesn’t know how to feel right now. He supposes he should feel flattered maybe, or content with knowing that his presence is beneficial to you, but is it really? He fears that his presence only keeps you stuck… he reminds you of Yunho based on association. That name you called him by earlier only proves that. Although he knows there’s no one else around that you trust right now, he doesn’t feel very deserving of that trust. He should give you space after today, let you rebuild a new relationship with your parents, and restart a normal life. As normal as you can possibly achieve after all of this.
“Still, you should be with your family,” he says carefully, “I think it’ll help.”
You don’t say anything right away, unhappy that he doesn’t volunteer to stay. You’re behaving like a child, you know that, but you can’t help it.
“If they weren’t here, would you stay?”
Seonghwa picks up where you’re trying to go with that question at once. “A– Y/N, don’t replace your parents with me. Give them time.”
Of all people, why must Seonghwa not listen to you, either? Your fuse never used to be this short. Why is it sparking and hissing now?
“What if I don’t want to? I asked for you specifically–”
“You only asked for me because you’re not allowed to see Yunho instead.” Seonghwa snaps, speaking before he could think.
The flames of his words settle in the short distance between you two. He pinches the bridge of his nose, wincing at the throbbing in his head as well as what he just said. Hopefully the painkillers work fast, his vision is already going black around the edges every other time he blinks. If he’s honest, he doesn't regret saying it, moreso how he said it. It’s a sentiment he’s been harboring since the first day he was assigned to look after you. Something far from love, but a relative fondness. A soft spot just for you that he doesn’t know what to do with. Nothing about your situation nor your relationship with him is easy to navigate or filter through. He’ll keep his distance because he wants to do the right thing, show his support for you always but never cross an invisible line he’s drawn for himself.
He won’t be like Mingi. He won’t believe your traumatic attachment to him is real, or healthy for that matter. It’ll only hurt you in the end.
At the same time, he knows he’s hurting you now.
You lean back again, wrapping your arms around yourself defensively.
It’s not true… it’s not. You’re happy to keep telling yourself that, even if you don’t fully believe it. It doesn’t matter anyway.
The blunt truth of the matter you’ve been avoiding and ignoring like the plague is that Yunho has been arrested. He’s not coming back for you. Not anytime soon. The detectives coming to your room today are going to take whatever you say as evidence against him. Even if you don’t say anything, they’ll take it to mean you’re so traumatized, the whole ordeal has rendered you mute. No matter what, you’re not going to be allowed to see Yunho ever again.
You swipe at the tears that pool in your eyes, refusing to let them fall. If they do, you’re afraid that the cop may take Seonghwa away again. God dammit, you think before mentally berating yourself again for using another swear word, even just in your head.
“I didn’t do that for someone I don’t genuinely care about,” you sniffle, speaking to him but keeping your eyes down.
Seonghwa’s breath hitches slightly, and you wonder if he’s starting to cry underneath those sunglasses. A petty part of you thinks, good, I hope he is.
Besides, you only jumped in front of a bullet meant for him.
But you think back to when you had upset him only a few nights ago now, in the living room in the middle of the night. It never feels good to intentionally hurt the ones you care about. The ones you let in. You’re just lashing out because he struck first, trying to get the last word in. Very Yunho-esque.
Needing to lie down, you stand shakily, slowly trudging back to bed. With time, eventually you calm down. You let Seonghwa sit there, working it out on his own, until the clock nearly runs out. The officer whistles for his attention, breaking him out of another dissociation, and signals him that it’s time to leave. You don’t shy away from looking at him this time.
When he’s only a couple of feet from the door, you call out to him one more time.
“Seonghwa?”
He looks over his shoulder. The officer does too.
“I’d still like you to come back… if you can.” The insinuation of the incoming chaos ahead is thinly veiled in your words.
Seonghwa nods once, internalizing what you said, and leads the officer out. It’s a bittersweet change from yesterday, when he was basically dragged out.
Barely granted two minutes of silence and alone time to process everything, there’s another knock on the door. This time around, you know who it is.
Your dad opens the door slowly, like he’s trying to not startle you.
“Hey kiddo, it’s us.”
Your mom follows suit, a small bakery to-go box in her hands as she comes in. “Hi, sweetie.”
You swallow hard, managing a small “Hi…” in return.
Your mom looks like she could explode, cry, and laugh all at once. It’s a lot to contain so as to not overwhelm you.
She’s really trying her best to hold it together for you. It’s thoughtful. You remember she was a sweet lady. Always wanted the best for you, supported your dreams no matter what.
Naturally, mainly because it’s such a bright pink color, your eyes drift to the bakery box in her hands. She places it on the portable table near your bed. Her perfume smells familiar… like home somehow. It’s nice.
“Don’t feel pressured,” your mom starts, “I know you just had lunch not too long ago but… you used to love the chocolate cupcakes I used to make for you, so I just…” she trails off, knowing she’s over-explaining herself a bit too much.
Your eyes light up – you haven’t had cake in god knows how long. And your favorite, too.
You grab the box and set it on your lap, sitting up against the pillows. Once open, the chocolatey smell hits you at once and the corners of your mouth twitch, almost grinning. Your parents try not to stare at you, not wanting to make you feel like you’re under a microscope while eating, and you appreciate that as you take a small bite of the cupcake.
Perfect.
It’s so rich and decadent your eyes close as you chew.
“Thank you,” you mumble, placing the cupcake back in the box to eat later. You don’t particularly want chocolate all over your face when the detectives arrive. And, you’ll enjoy it more when you’re not as full from lunch. Maybe you’ll find a way to ask her for another one.
Your dad helps you put it back on the table and goes over to the window to retrieve a chair for your mom to sit in. He drags it back to its original spot near the bed and you just keep looking at it. Seonghwa had been in that chair mere minutes ago. You’re not sure how kindly your parents would take that piece of knowledge; Seonghwa had gotten so antsy at the idea of being seen in here with you by them.
“So,” your dad says, standing by your mom who is placing her purse down by her feet, “did they tell you about talking to the detectives today?”
You nod.
“Okay, good. We’re also gonna have a lawyer here as well. She’s really good, I’ve heard.”
You’re not really sure how to respond so you just… nod again, looking down at your lap, picking at your nails.
Your mom notices how fidgety you’re becoming and asks, “Who gave you that? It’s beautiful.”
She points to your bracelet with a small smile, curiosity in her eyes. Your heart drops to your stomach. Do you tell them? Yunho had beaten it into you not to lie, but you really don’t want to deal with a lecture or horrified reactions or worse, the two of them making it impossible for Seonghwa to come see you. Something tells you it will already be borderline impossible without their help.
“A friend,” you say carefully. Not a lie, but not a very detailed answer either.
The universe has such divine timing for you because before either of your parents can ask anything about this ‘friend’, there’s a knock on the door. You hide your sigh of relief as they turn to look towards the three people who enter, two women and a man. One of the women and the man are dressed similarly, a slight step above business casual, while the other woman is dressed formally, everything tailored and sharp down to her briefcase. All business. But she smiles at your parents and instantly goes over to shake their hands and mention how good it is to meet them in person and not over the phone. Then she turns to you. There’s still a smile on her face but her eyes change into something more serious.
“Hi, Y/N, I’m Choi Hyein, I’ll be representing you in this case.”
She pauses then, but not to wait for you to say anything. Her pause feels intentional, giving you a chance to really look at her, and to register that she’s on your side for this. She is no threat and no enemy. It’s definitely reassuring.
The two detectives linger about six feet from the door, measured and alert. The man scans the room like he’s mapping it. The woman lingers half a step behind, already pulling a small recording device from her pocket. You stiffen at the sight of it. But you’re grateful that they don’t crowd you; there’s already so many people in here – more than you’re used to – and they’ve been advised to give you your space.
“Ms. Y/L/N,” the man says, voice steady. “I’m Agent Lee. This is Agent Jang. It’s nice to finally meet with you. We’re here to take your statement.”
You simply nod politely, not quite sure what to do with your hands. For now, you just keep them on your lap, still twisting and playing with the bracelet.
“I know this is overwhelming,” Ms. Choi says, voice pleasant but serious. “So we’re going to walk you through this carefully. If anything becomes unclear or too much, please don’t hesitate to ask for clarification or a break.”
Her words make you feel less trapped. You’re not going to be forced through anything if you panic. Hopefully, you won’t, but the exit ticket is nice to have just in case. A choice. Options.
You’re in control.
“Okay,” you breathe, straightening up a little more.
The detectives seem to relax, knowing that at least for now, you’re onboard. You may give them the answers they need, the final pieces to fit the puzzle. Your mom gets up and lets Ms. Choi sit in the chair by you, while she and your dad stand against the wall near your bed. The two agents move to the window, Agent Lee leaning against the sill and Agent Jang taking the chair. There’s so many eyes on you.
Agent Jang presses the record button on the little device, crossing her arms and holding it by her elbow. At first, she speaks quietly into it, like she’s talking to herself. “This is Agents Jang and Lee conducting an interview with Y/N Y/L/N. It is the twenty-eighth of December, two-thousand-twenty-five.”
She rolls her shoulders back, clearing her throat as quietly as she can before looking up at you again. Ms. Choi opens her briefcase to retrieve her laptop, intent on writing notes throughout the entire process. You imagine she is also recording this conversation.
“Let’s start from the beginning,” she suggests, leaning forward a bit. “Can you describe what happened on the day you were taken?”
Taken. Like you were plucked out of existence.
“Um…” you itch your arm for no reason other than to just give your hands something to do. Everyone’s watching you. Analyzing you. Waiting for you.
It’s just like the shower: one thing at a time. But last night, you didn’t have five pairs of eyes looking at you the whole time.
You look down, trying to recall as much as you can. Something about ice cream… a nightclub maybe? It was blindingly bright and then harrowingly dark. The air was cold, but less so than your recent night in the woods. You had a coat… or he put his around you? What was the weather? There was something pressed against your face, it made the lights above you swirl and your head hurt until you fell asleep in his car. You woke up in his bed.
“We went out,” you swallow hard.
“Do you remember where?”
You shake your head.
And then comes the question you’ve been dreading since yesterday. Agent Lee is the one to ask it.
“Do you remember who took you?”
The first instinct is to deny Yunho had anything to do with it. Protect and deny everything – clear his name, be good, be quiet, shift the blame elsewhere, go back to him somehow, deny, deny, deny. It wasn’t safe, you could say, someone else was after you. Yunho just let you stay with him until that mystery threat was removed. There is someone still on the run, loose in the world. But you imagine that the police have swept through the apartment by now. They’ve seen the footage and the chemicals he had on hand to knock you out, they’ve probably found the gun.
Not many people in South Korea have a gun.
You’re torn. If he’s already been arrested, though… no– you can’t turn your back on him. This is exactly what he was talking about. Yunho gave you an inch of freedom, leaving you with Seonghwa, and you immediately disregarded all of your rules and responsibilities. But you’re not stupid. Being arrested for his actions towards you obviously means what he did was rather… harmful, to put it into a simple word.
You press your lips together, stress making your arm even more itchy. There’s no clear answer, at least not in your mind. How can you turn your back on him so easily?
“Honey…do you know who took you?” Your mom asks, squeezing your dad’s hand so tight he winces. She loosens her grip for a couple moments before forgetting and repeating the same pressure.
“No,” you say monotonally, “I have no idea.” Your nails leave white scratches against your reddening skin.
The mood in the room shifts, like everyone already knows the answer and you just won’t confirm it for any of them. Your parents look at Ms. Choi, helplessly, as if she can make you give him up at the drop of a hat somehow. They all stare at you in complete disbelief. They look at your body, shadows of intense abuse and malnourishment, shaking like a leaf, your irises dulled grey from seeing too much, haunted by memories and nightmares alike.
“Are you sure?” Your mom presses, her rings digging into your dad’s hand. “You don’t have to protect anyone. You can tell us. Whoever it is can’t hurt you anymore.”
But it will hurt him…
And it will hurt them.
Part of you says ‘fuck it, tell them’. Let all of the boys fry, let them burn, make them watch everything they’ve worked for come crashing down in a shameful spiral. Give them just a taste of your suffering.
But you think of Seonghwa.
Hongjoong, Yeosang, San, Wooyoung, Jongho… even Mingi. The ones who worked tirelessly against their own friend – someone who was once considered their brother – to free you. Do they deserve that? The knowledge of what they’ve done, what they’ve been forced to become a part of, may be punishment enough. You will be the source of their shared guilt and shame forevermore.
You will haunt them to their graves regardless.
That quieter, but equally sinister voice pipes up in your head, reminding you that they’re the ones who tore you and Yunho apart. Though, it is getting harder and harder to be angry with them about that.
The decision you make is not said without a slight waver, that loyalty to Yunho still digging its claws into your vocal chords, but it needs to be said before you tell the room anything further.
“I don’t want to punish the ones who helped me,” you preface.
Based on the vague facts they’ve heard from the detectives, it’s quite hard for your parents to hear the plural attached to that noun. Your dad crosses his arms and covers his mouth, keeping his eyes glued to the floor. Your mom is shaking. A small part of you wants to reach for her.
You don’t.
“That’s a reasonable position,” Ms. Choi says, closing her laptop halfway. “We can advocate for that. We can make it clear that certain individuals acted under duress or made sincere efforts to protect you, which led directly towards your release. However, I will not promise that I can fully exempt them from the law if they are held liable in court.”
The weight of relief that lifts from your shoulders as she talks suddenly slams back down on you again. You wonder if Seonghwa’s lawyer has told him this exact thing already. Most likely. And the others as well. As for Yunho and Mingi, well… their lawyers are going to be in a much harder position if either of them tries for a ‘not guilty’ plea. You have no idea if Mingi is even coherent or awake to have had a talk with his yet.
Regardless, if there’s a chance you can help them, even just a fraction as much as they’ve helped you, you’ll do it.
Agent Jang draws your attention back to her, “Y/N, can you tell us who did this to you?”
Your heartbeat feels erratic, like your pulse is skipping every other beat and then really hammering the next to make up for it. Are you going to denounce him like this? Condemn him like he means nothing to you? You feel like your chest is opening back up again, as if your ribs are trying to crawl out of the wound like a spider. That authoritative, warning voice tries to convince you to not say anything, that he’ll find out and somehow come back to kill you – this time for real.
What if you tell them and he gets out? Will he even want you back?
There’s so many outliers, variables, differing scenarios, all being met with uncertain outcomes. You can’t predict the future. You have no idea what will happen tomorrow…how can you decide the fate of all these people? You were so level-headed and clear this morning. It’s overwhelming that his influence has this much of a chokehold on you.
Even now, you’re just his little puppet, aren't you?
You look down at your arm that you’ve been lightly scratching this whole time, just skin and bones. The image of the walking corpse in the mirror last night pushes to the front of your thoughts.
Just tell the truth. Let them decide, it says.
Maybe you don’t have to make the decision. Everything you say will be without bias, only reciting facts about what happened, and you’ll let them reach their own conclusions. That’s… reasonable, right?
You roll your shoulders back again, breathing in as deep as your damaged lung allows you to without starting a coughing fit.
Your lips part.
All five people wait with barely contained suspense.
The name fights against your tongue, but you push it out anyway.
“Jeong Yunho…”
· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·
One week later…
Your last full week at the hospital feels surreal.
Less people come and go, only your nurses and your parents. Ms. Choi came back three additional times the past few days, but you mostly just let your parents talk to her with you present in the room.
It’s still undecided whether or not you will actually speak at the trial.
The trial itself will be held a few months from now, but there’s no set date yet. Ms. Choi informs your parents that she will be keeping you all updated as soon as she knows anything new about it. Right now, you decided that you will not attend, and Ms. Choi supports this decision. Seeing Yunho again is most likely a very bad idea, especially while testifying against him.
Your parents bought you a new phone, but the most you’ve done with it is peel the protective sheet off of it and set it up. The wallpaper on the lock and homescreens are the default options. You don’t have any photos anymore. You definitely remember taking many when you first arrived here, though. Now, your old phone could be anywhere in the entire world. More than likely, it’s already been drowned in the Han River. You almost envy it some days when the pain medications wear off. It’s a gradual fight towards recovery, but you’re happy that you can at least take deeper breaths.
It’s admittedly been rather awkward between you and your parents, especially after the interview with the agents. Both of them had to leave the room, and you weren’t even exactly giving explicit details of what you went through. Regardless, it was more than they could bear to hear. You can tell every time they see you, they’re replaying what they heard.
It’s been interesting getting to know them again. Every now and then you remember small details and inside jokes, shared memories together, those sorts of things. You’re speaking to them as much as you would if Seonghwa were here.
But you haven’t seen Seonghwa all week.
The story is probably everywhere by now. Globally, more than likely, but you haven’t seen or read a single article about it. There are several reasons why, but mainly because you just don’t want to relive everything through a stranger’s words. Your television is firmly set on the documentary channel and or the drama channel. This is mostly enforced by Ms. Choi and your parents. Anyway, you imagine Seonghwa has his hands rather full, dealing with all of this public outrage and shame brought upon the group’s name. You know it’s almost impossible for him to come see you at all, and yet you find yourself waiting for him to show up every afternoon and evening. Just in case. You really don’t want your last conversation with him to end in a panic, or a heated exchange. Since it’s your last day, your hopes are really being tested as each minute and each hour passes without him coming through the door.
Your parents had left maybe ten minutes ago to go back to their hotel for the night, leaving you to the rare silence of your room, save for the background noise of a history documentary that’s playing on the TV. Something about spies in World War Two. You’re not really paying attention to it, but the snippets of what you do hear sound interesting.
The phone your parents got you is by your side, nestled on top of the blanket. Your curiosity of the severity of the story and how bad it is for the group nags at you to check. You unlock it, but tap on the TikTok icon instead, scratching the itch to be on your phone but not to search the case. The app successfully numbs that nagging feeling to check for about ten minutes, until you stumble across someone talking about your case. No search required.
The person talking in the video refers to your case as ‘unfortunate’, but ‘hot’ at the same time. A lump forms in your throat rather quickly the more she talks about how jealous she is of you.
The video ends with her asking Yunho if she can be next.
By this point, you’re shaking badly, and the comment section is no better. You had hoped there would be a majority of people defending you, calling her out on such a strange and controversial opinion, but what you see shocks you to the very core.
[user1603275809]: my dream ughhhh
[b<3]: ungrateful bitch lmao
[SAW ATEEZ 07/31]: girl move over i’ll be your next victim yunho🤪
You shut your phone off.
Definitely a mistake. You doubt that you’ll reach for your phone again until you get on the plane back home, and even then, you’ll only use it for music. It’s not even the comments and the whole general message you’re getting from the video that hit you the hardest, it’s the fact that they don’t know about the others. The dead girls in the forest. You wonder if they’d laugh online so freely if they knew about them.
There’s an abrupt gunfire sound effect that explodes from the TV, even on low volume and it startles you that much more. You’re quick to change it back to the drama channel, hands shaking as you sit up and swing your feet onto the floor, intent on getting up and walking this off. The nurses have been encouraging you to go on walks, longer and longer distances each time. You’re almost up to a mile without needing a break. Now’s as good a time as any.
Walks help not just your body, but your mentality too. And you need a bit of both right now.
You’d been adamant the past two days that you want to walk alone, without a nurse present and hovering, waiting for you to fail. They’d respected your wishes, but you noticed how they watched you until you’re out of sight or if you caught them looking. Hopefully, because the evening is already giving way to the night, there won’t be as many eyes on you this time.
When you step out of your room, you’re proven right save for the officer that guards your room. The officer outside your door gives you a look but you draw a circle with your finger, indicating that you’re going to be walking around. He makes an ‘ok’ sign with his hand and waits for you to set off. He gives you as much privacy as he can on these walks, remaining quiet and keeping his distance, staying about ten feet or so behind you. The hallways for now are clear in both directions, and the nurse’s station is only occupied by two nurses, facing the opposite way. Jiyeon is one of them. She looks up from the computer, a brief look of concern flashing across her face before she lifts her hand, her pointer and middle fingers alternating to mimic leg movements.
‘Walk?’ She mouths the word. You nod. She nods as well, and just goes back to whatever she’s doing. You’ll miss her.
As you finish up your second lap, you’re already starting to feel a bit better. That video you watched only had a couple of hundred likes anyway. Surely, not everybody thought the same as she apparently does. It’s just hard to forget about it completely… or forgive.
A male nurse opens a door to a room you’re just about to walk by, and he wheels out what looks like a medication cart. You stop to let him go with a small bow, and glance at the name written on the wall to indicate who is occupying this room.
Someone named ‘Song, M’.
Nosy by nature, you can’t help but peer into the room before the door closes. You can hear the steady, rhythmic beat of a heart monitor, and all the lights appear to be off, just like how you like your room to be. The soft glow of light from the hallway is always enough to keep the rooms dark enough to fall asleep comfortably, but lit well enough to be able to see where everything is. There’s a man propped up in the bed, his face mostly covered by the water cup he’s using to knock back the pills the nurse no doubt just gave him.
You pass by the room and continue your walk.
You don’t think much about it, refocusing on thinking about the flight home tomorrow. Home. You can barely remember what your house looks like. Your parents, upon hearing this from you, have started showing you pictures that were taken in the house, and it’s all slowly coming back to you. There’s pieces being filled in the puzzle again. You imagine it’ll be different actually being there again rather than just seeing pictures of it. They showed you pictures of your room as well, and some different memories from varying ages came back rather easily. Sleepovers and sleepless school nights doing homework at your desk, childhood stuffed animals, shelves full of photos and trinkets collected over the years.
When it comes to your clothes and other belongings here in your old apartment, apparently your parents had received everything a few months ago when it was released from the police. Your old roommates had sent you several of the presents still sitting in your hospital room. The balloons wilted a couple of days ago.
Rounding the corner, from down the hall you can see another police officer standing guard and you look behind you to see if yours is still following you. He is. He looks up at you when he sees you turn around.
“You okay?” He asks, also looking behind him to see if you saw something.
“Yeah, I just…” you trail off, watching the other officer again. He doesn’t look like he’s standing outside your room, he’s too far away. He’s further down the hall, near to where you had stopped to let the nurse go in front of you.
A slow realization dawns on you then. Who else could it be?
Continuing on, albeit at a much slower pace, you stop once again at your room. Wordlessly, the officer assigned to you retakes his post, but you don’t push open the door to go back inside. You hesitate, staring down the hallway.
“Jiyeon?” You quietly call her, moving closer to the nurse’s station.
Her head pops up from her computer again, at the ready. The light from the screen reflects in her eyes, making them partially glow white and blue.
“Who’s in that room?” You ask, already knowing the answer. You just want it confirmed.
Jiyeon follows where you’re pointing with her eyes and leans forward slightly to speak quieter. “I can’t tell you who, hon. Patient confidentiality.”
You bite your lip.
“If I know who it is…” you begin, “are you able to tell me if I’m allowed to see him?”
Jiyeon looks back over towards the room and the cop that guards it. You can almost see her thinking, recalling protocol and hospital rules.
“It’s Mingi, right?” Your voice barely above a whisper.
“Honey, I’m just not sure it’s a good idea for you to see him,” she says gently. “Actually, I really doubt that they’ll let you in.”
You rest your arms on the desk, picking at your nails again. “I know it’s not a good idea,” you agree. You understand completely. Honestly you’re rather bewildered that you’re even asking to see him. “I just… I don’t know.”
Jiyeon sighs, looking up at you apologetically. It’s not her fault. Again, you understand. And maybe it’s for the best that you can’t see him. Maybe he doesn’t want to see you, and then what? More chaos, more heartache, more trouble than you need right now. Even so, that nagging tugs at you.
“Is it possible for me to maybe write him something?”
At that, Jiyeon looks down at her computer again, like the answers are on the screen. She hums as she thinks.
“Possibly. Whatever you write will have to be approved by these guys,” she says, gesturing to the officer outside your door and the one outside his, “so keep that in mind. Some things may be redacted.”
You nod, looking back at the officer outside Mingi’s door one more time.
“Alright,” you say, turning on your heel and disappearing back into your room for the night.
You set about writing your message to him right away, using the new journal and pen that Seonghwa had given to you from the boys. Although, you do spend a majority of the evening staring at a blank sheet of paper. Luckily, the nurse that brings in your dinner doesn’t ask what you’re doing or who you’re writing to. She minds her business, setting your food down with a small smile and a quiet ‘of course’ when you thank her.
The words don’t come easily, and you don’t expect them to. Dozens and dozens of potential things you want to say to him come to mind, but none of them sound or do any good. It has to be short and simple if you want to avoid any potential redactions, but also carry meaning. You dig deep, searching for what you truly want to say. If you were allowed to go into his room and see him, and say anything to his face, what would it be?
Your pen moves not too long after you ask yourself that.
You deliver the note to Jiyeon, on the off-chance she is allowed to bring it to Mingi’s room and she sets it down by her keyboard with a promise that she will have the officers look it over. With a small nod of acknowledgement, you wish her a goodnight and settle down in your room for the last time.
A part of you wishes you had time to look around Yunho’s bedroom the same way you’re taking in the hospital suite you’ve been in for the past week and a half. Just to say goodbye to it, but how were you supposed to know you’d never return there? You sigh as you tuck yourself in one more time even though it’s still pretty early – not yet eight-thirty – and you admire the patterns of light on the floor coming from the hallway and the television. The volume is low in case you wake up in the middle of the night, you don’t want to wake up to dead silence. That’s almost as bad as not being able to see.
But you sleep soundly, letting the occasional quiet beeps from the machines lull you.
And with perfect timing, with twenty minutes left to spend in visiting hours, Seonghwa knocks on your door.
He ignores the side-eye from the cop by your door as much as he can, adjusting his face mask even higher up on his nose so the top of it grazes his bottom lashes. Those dark circles under his eyes from his injury never quite went away on account of the lack of sleep lately. When he pushes open the door, he freezes in place. You’re turned on your side, facing the door, and he can tell that you’re asleep. He hesitates, not sure if he should come in anyway or just turn around and leave. He knows you have an early flight tomorrow.
Just five minutes, he tells himself.
Leaving the door open as instructed, he quietly makes his way over to the chair by your bed. You don’t stir. You look peaceful… healed, at least physically. The lines on the heart monitor jump in a standard, healthy rhythm, and there’s some plumpness to your skin now. It no longer clings to your bones. It’s nice to see you like this.
He definitely stays longer than five minutes, just watching you sleep. He feels like a creep for doing so, but he can’t help but hope that you’ll just wake up on your own and know that he came back to say goodbye. In his head he replays all of your shared time together, internally apologizing to you for all the chances he had of getting you out sooner rather than later, and wishing that he could’ve done more to help. He stares at the fading, leftover patches of bruises around your neck that he put there until his eyes unfocus and his vision blurs. He lifts the heel of his hand to his temple, pressing it there for a second to combat any oncoming dizziness. It’s an internal battle to not cry. He doesn’t feel like he really deserves to.
There’s some murmuring outside your door, and he looks up at the clock to check the time. Five minutes after nine. Time to go. Jiyeon knocks as she comes in.
“Visiting hours are over,” she politely informs him.
Seonghwa fixes his jacket for no reason. “Right. I’m sorry,” he says as he stands, patting his pockets to make sure he has everything and leaves without another word.
Jiyeon catches him in the hallway before he gets to the elevators. “Mr. Park,” she calls softly, jogging after him to close the distance.
He looks over his shoulder, then turns around to face her, awaiting some sort of scolding for staying later than allowed. He’ll take it.
“I’m sorry–” he starts to say, but Jiyeon cuts him off.
“I wanted to thank you. I think you played a big part in her recovery,” she says sincerely. Her words startle him, catching him off guard. It’s definitely not what he was expecting to hear. Seonghwa doesn’t meet her eyes anymore, choosing to inspect the tiled floor instead.
Of course, he denies this. “I didn’t do that much… all I did was upset her each time I came.”
“You remind her of a very difficult part of her life,” Jiyeon says bluntly, not one to sugarcoat, “one that will stay with her forever. But, you’re also part of the reason that she’s safe. You helped to get her out.”
Seonghwa shakes his head, refusing to accept any responsibility of aiding in your rescue. He’s part of the problem that you escaped. Jiyeon steps closer, trying to make him look at her.
“Whether you realize it or not, you’re probably one of the only truly safe people she has right now,” She says. “You’re very important to her.”
He keeps his head down, crossing his arms over his chest and hunching his shoulders.
“ I–I didn't do enough,” he says, his voice betraying him by breaking right at the beginning of his sentence.
Every pent up emotion hits him then. Right there in the middle of the hospital hallway, under bright, accusatory fluorescent lights, outside of your room where he believes he put you, even if he wasn’t the one who pulled the trigger. By not informing the police beforehand, he believes that he is part of the reason you were hurt, indirectly or directly. He promised you that night that you’d be okay. He told you to trust him. Every bottled up feeling suddenly demands to be felt. His stress threatens to make him explode like a pressure cooker.
Jiyeon cautiously places her hand on his back, guiding him into an empty office area and sitting him down. She fills a paper cup with water and hands it to him, advising him to breathe.
“I’ll never be able to m-make it up to her,” he says, close to crumpling the cup in his grip. “I told her she w-wouldn’t get hurt and–”
He stops in the middle, too ashamed of himself to continue. Glancing at the clock, he winces, knowing his manager is probably wondering where the hell he is. He won’t come looking for him though… the whole KQ staff have kind of stopped talking to them unless absolutely necessary. Nevertheless, he feels bad for making him wait.
“From what she’s told me, you did your absolute best to protect her. You kept showing up for her, even now, and that will help her heal in the long term. It’ll remind her that she had someone good by her side at the end of all this.”
Seonghwa sniffles quietly, running a hand through his hair and pausing halfway through.
“She still got hurt though,” he says dejectedly. “She got hurt by saving me. I didn’t deserve such kindness from her… I didn’t deserve to be saved. It should’ve been me instead.”
“She’s alive,” Jiyeon reminds him, “and she’s going home tomorrow because of you. Because of all of you. She didn’t even have to think before she chose to save you. Doesn’t that tell you all you need to know about how much she cares about you? Don’t make her decision meaningless by saying that you didn’t deserve it.”
A beat passes.
Seonghwa nods once, slowly, like he doesn’t quite believe what he’s agreeing to just yet, but maybe one day he will. Her words imbed themselves within his mind, branding into his brain and sticking with him for the foreseeable future.
You’re alive. You’re going home tomorrow.
Except for two snags, not including his own injury, the plan was successful. They achieved what they set out to do: free you from Yunho. They got you out. The risks involved in said plan were well-known, and they knew the level of danger they’d be exposed to if things went south. Despite it all, you and Mingi are both alive and recovering, and Yunho is where he should be: in jail awaiting trial.
Jiyeon hands him a tissue box from one of the desks, and he plucks one from it to blow his nose. He calms down gradually, and she lets him take his time. Glancing up at the clock again, he stands abruptly. He’s way over time now. He wouldn’t be surprised if his manager left him there.
“Oh– I should go,” he says, but doesn’t break for the door just yet. Again, he pats his pockets to make sure he has everything, and pauses when he dips a hand into the one in his jacket. He pulls out a small, torn piece of paper with a number scribbled on it. He’d forgotten to leave this in your room. Dammit.
“I’m sorry, could you please give this to her?” He asks, “It’s… it’s just in case she wants to keep in contact. If you don’t think it’s a good idea though, it may not help her recovery–” he rambles, overthinking.
Jiyeon interrupts him, “Y’know what? Why don’t you stay with her tonight. I think she’d like that. You can give it to her yourself.”
Seonghwa blinks before bowing to her, thanking her sheepishly.
She waves him off, guiding him out of the room and back down the hall to your room. She exchanges a few quiet words with your room guardian, letting him know what’s going on. He side-eyes Seonghwa again, but luckily, says nothing.
“Thank you,” Seonghwa says to her again when she turns back to him, “really. For everything.”
“Of course. Have a good night, Mr. Park.” Jiyeon says with a small wave, already starting to head back to the nurse’s station.
Seonghwa sends a quick text to his manager and takes off his face mask, taking a deep breath before placing his hand on the doorhandle.
This time, your back is facing him as he walks in and you stir when the door is opened again. You sleepily rub your eyes and make a small noise upon hearing someone come in. A nurse, you assume. You lazily drape your arm out to the side to make it easier for her to check your vitals or something. They always need your arm out for some reason or another.
Instead, someone sits in the chair. Someone takes off their jacket. A familiar scent of cologne hits your nose and your eyes snap open.
“Hello?” You ask, confused.
“Hi, angel,” he says quietly, taking your hand that you reach for him with.
“What time is it?” You mumble, looking around the bed for your phone.
“Late,” Seonghwa says with the slightest twinge of a laugh, “they’re gonna let me stay the night with you. Is that alright?”
You nod immediately, worried he’ll change his mind within the millisecond of time between him ending his sentence and you responding. A small grin plays on his lips.
“I’ll stay up–” You start to push yourself upright, but he stops you.
“No, no, it’s okay. I’ll just…” He scoots the chair closer and leans forward, resting his head on his arms. You worry about his back, though. This position can’t be good for his neck either.
You pull his arm towards you until he sits on the bed. Closer, but not what you’re trying to get him to do. Sure, you could outright say what you want, but you’re tired and admittedly still shy around him. So you scoot over, to the very edge of your bed to make room for him. He sighs as he hesitates, and eventually gives in. You unsuccessfully hide your victorious – and honestly, shocked – smile as he gets in next to you in the cramped space. You throw your blanket over him and both of you turn on your sides to face each other. Draping your arm over his shoulder, you play with his hair on the nape of his neck. His eyes flutter closed, allowing himself to relax. He keeps his hands to himself, not assuming that you want to be touched in any way until you tell him.
You breathe him in, snuggling closer to his chest, silently giving him his answer. Your free hand finds one of his, guiding it over your body. The comforting weight of it calms you just as well as any sedative. He presses you close, dropping his arm down towards your lower back, and sneaking his right arm under your neck to embrace you properly like this. You sleepily smile into his chest. His hair is soft between your fingers. The added heat from his body makes the cold hospital room perfectly warm.
You fall back asleep in no time at all.
And so does he.
In the meantime, your little note does make its way to Mingi’s room. The only thing the officers decide to redact is your name at the end. He’ll know it’s from you, but he will be denied that small verification at the bottom of the page. He won’t get to see you or say a proper goodbye. He knows, though, that he doesn’t deserve to. This little note is the best he’s going to get, and he’s grateful nonetheless.
Mingi,
Though I may not feel this way 100% right now, I know in time I will mean what I write wholeheartedly:
I forgive you.
Thank you for helping me.
– ◼/◼
· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·
The morning is rather busy.
Busier like it had been when you first woke up here. Your parents arrive first thing, bags packed and passports already at the ready. You can tell they can’t wait to leave. To bring you home. The butterflies in your stomach are rather agitated at the thought. ‘Pre-flight nerves’, you refer to them as when your mom asks why you’re so antsy.
Seonghwa had left an hour before they got there, around five in the morning. You had set your alarm at that time to give yourself some time alone, to mentally prepare for the day ahead. Instead, that time was spent exchanging Kakao IDs and resuming playing with his hair. Time seemed against you, moving faster than it ever had here before. Each minute seemed to last ten seconds.
He squeezed your hand tight before he left. You can still feel it now.
Much to your surprise, Agent Jang comes into your room ten minutes before you’re due to leave, carrying a lumpy bag. You hadn’t expected to see her again. Your parents greet her warmly, eyeing what she has in her hand.
“Your clothes,” she explains to you, “from when you were first admitted here.”
All you can think to say in response is “Ah.”
She sets it down on one of the chairs and asks how you’re doing. The two of you actually have a nice little conversation for a couple of minutes before she has to go back to the station. You wish her luck as she walks out. For what exactly, you’re not sure, but you think the sentiment of what you said makes itself known. She wishes you all the best and steps out, nodding to the morning shift officer guarding your door. His shift will be short today, although he is going to be accompanying you to the airport. Then, airport security will take you and your parents through.
“I’ll go through them on the plane,” you decide, gesturing to the bag and the presents that all three of you managed to somehow stuff into an extra suitcase and your carry-on. You read some of the tags. None of them are from Yunho.
Your mom crosses her arms, looking at it like it’s a bug. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?”
“I’ll be fine.”
“I just… I don’t want you to be triggered and then we don’t know how to help you.”
You sigh, but not in annoyance. This could very well happen, and happen while you’re 30,000 feet in the air with no escape. But you’re stronger now. “That’ll happen anyway. Doesn’t matter when, really. I’ll tell you how to help me.”
Unconvinced and wary, your mom lets it go. She trusts you on this. You’re the expert on you.
Jiyeon isn’t working this morning, but she did leave you a little card for Mijoo to give to you. You’ll read it later, right now your parents are checking their phones and watches over and over, silently telling you it’s almost time to leave.
You thank the staff as you pass them in the hallways, stealing a glance down towards Mingi’s room again before stepping into the elevator and descending down, back into the world. You don a face mask and sunglasses, feeling a bit like Seonghwa, and tie your hair up. The last thing you want is for people to easily see what you look like now.
As expected and dreaded, the airport is swarming with reporters and devastated fans who all want a glimpse of the girl who survived the idol. Luckily, you’re well hidden by your parents and the officers protecting you. You’re on autopilot until you actually board the plane, ascending and accelerating towards the clouds.
The mini screen helps the ride go by a lot faster. You alternate between movies, listening to the music and closing your eyes, and just resting your head against the window, watching the clouds drift below. You sleep for about an hour, and when you wake up, the plane has already begun its initial descent. Home. Your skin starts to itch again.
To distract yourself, you reach into your carry on for that bag Agent Jang gave you and the note from Jiyeon. Your mother next to you takes her AirPods out, but says nothing to deter you from looking through it. She’ll just keep a close eye on you, watching for any signs of incoming distress while your dad is passed out, still asleep next to her.
The note from Jiyeon is short and sweet, wishing you all the best, and signing her name with a little drawing of a bunny on the side of it. You pass it to your mom so she can read it, and then you start in on the bag.
The clothes themselves are wrinkled from being in the snow for so long and not being dried properly. You don’t unfold your sweater, not particularly keen on seeing the hole where the bullet ripped through the fabric. The pants are bloodstained on the waistband. Your socks are crumpled like your sweater, soaked through and sad looking. You shove the socks and sweater back into the bag, curiosity over. But you feel something in the pants front pocket. Your eyebrows furrow together, not knowing what this could be.
But the second your fingers touch it, you know exactly what it is. And who it belonged to.
You pull the rosary out slowly, almost bead by bead until you’re holding it up in front of your face. The cross at the bottom points directly down towards the bloodstains.
“Who’s is that?” You hear your mom ask through the roar of the engines and your screaming thoughts.
Quickly, you lie. “Seonghwa’s.”
Though visibly tense, she doesn’t say anything further. You’ve told them a little about him. They’re not particularly crazy about him, as they have a harder time seeing him for anything other than being part of the group that took and had access to you. She looks at it like she wants to chuck it out of the plane window. If only she knew who it really belongs to.
You put the pants back in the bag, holding onto the rosary for the remainder of the flight.
The cold metal burns your skin the whole way down.
· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·
Eight months later…
The sun warms your skin as it blinds you.
You cover it with your hand as much as you can, squinting and blinking away the eye floaters that creep into your field of vision. Cars rush past, threatening to splash you from the puddles left overnight. It had been an impressive storm, but you slept through most of it.
The sunlight that reflects off the building makes it look like it’s sparkling all over. You remember this place well; at least, the interior of it. You lower your hand and look across the street, heading the opposite direction. The walking signal shines for the pedestrians and you join the crossing groups of people seamlessly.
Seoul in September is always pretty.
That certain floor and apartment right at the very top look down upon you. They didn’t think they’d ever see you again. Last they saw of you, you were being driven out to the woods again. They should’ve known. You’re the only one who survived the woods… twice.
Sadly, there’s no time to gloat or reminisce, as you’re currently running to find your Uber before they drive off.
Once located, you confirm your names with each other and situate yourself in the backseat of the car. It’s rather nice, and you double check that you didn’t accidentally pay for the Uber Black or something. You’re thankful for the strong air conditioning. Tucked under your thigh, your phone vibrates a few times but you ignore it – you already know it’s your mother texting you for the hundredth time today. She has your location on like she did last year, but now she wants live updates in real time of how you’re doing and where you’re going and who with, every possible detail.
You had to really plead your case to her and your father to let you come back.
Before the entire question was even finished, they flat out forbade you from coming back, especially by yourself. It took a lot of persuasion, a couple big fights, multiple reminders that you’re an adult, and a promise to be monitored at all times while there, but eventually they allowed you to fly back. You’re staying at a nice hotel in the heart of the city, somewhere you’re rather familiar with. Yet another topic of discussion you had to fight over. They wanted you to stay with your old roommates, but you vehemently opposed this – you didn’t want to infringe on their lives by staying with them and make them have to babysit you all hours of the day. That’s not fair to them. You did agree to spend the first two nights back in Seoul at their apartment, though.
You’re 99% sure your mom is also keeping in touch with them as well.
Holding in an exasperated sigh at the fourth and fifth buzz of your phone, you shoot a quick text to your mom as proof of life and safety, screenshotting the route you’re taking to your hotel to check into your room. She reads the text immediately and answers with a thumbs up emoji. It’s both comforting and suffocating that you know she’s watching your location at this very moment. It reminds you of where you were last year at this time.
Driver tipped, bags collected, and key handed over, you finally flop down on the plush hotel bed, sighing into the memory foam. You’re looking forward to these next two hours spent alone before you go back out again. You definitely need them.
You unpack, taking your time to set everything where you want it around the room, quietly enjoying how therapeutic small stuff like this feels. Habitually though, you do check in the upper corners of the walls, in the lamps, and in the bathroom for hidden cameras. Every search conducted ends in the same result: finding none. It’s one habit you’ve yet to fully shake off. Another one is how you tend to freeze when you hear people outside of your room, even muting the TV so no one can hear you inside. Once the sound of their voices fade away, you’re okay again.
You try to tighten up. You have to, especially today.
After sending your mom a picture of you, safe in the hotel room, she finally relents and leaves you alone. It’s annoying, but it’s what you agreed on in order to be here, so you force yourself to not roll your eyes every time your phone goes off.
You spend the next hour sitting on the floor in front of your suitcase, looking down at it like the right outfit will just jump out at you. It’s not that you’re trying to look good, just… confident. Confident and put together without overstating it. You rummage through the shirts, pants, socks, and one dress you brought with you, but none of them feel right. Now only thirty minutes before you have to leave, you give up on it for the time being and just focus on your hair and makeup.
Even though you want to, you can’t bring yourself to wash your face. There are good days and bad days when it comes to water, and today is one of those bad days. Instead, you run one of the hand towels under the sink and lightly dab your face with it to feel more refreshed. You forego winged eyeliner simply because your hands are shaking too much and you don’t have time to make them match, and then find yourself brushing your hair right back where you started, standing in front of the open suitcase without a clue of what to wear. In the end, you just decide on some baggy jeans and a hoodie.
You text your mom that you’re gonna nap and stay in the hotel the rest of your night, and switch your phone completely off.
Sunglasses on and purse in hand, you’re out the door.
· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·
You’re very hyper-aware of your skin.
Specifically how your clothes feel on your skin, brushing up against it. Your chest hurts. Stress causes some pain flares from time to time, so you’re used to the feeling, but it doesn’t make it any less comfortable. You lightly trace your collarbone through your hoodie with your knuckles, just to ground yourself more. It tells you that nothing is touching your chest or your neck.
You’re glad you chose the hoodie because it is freezing in here. The cold metal of the chair seeps through the fabric of your jeans and takes a while to warm up as you wait. Your nails tap against the metal table in front of you. It’s a rather small room, only two other ‘booths’ like the one you’re sitting at now, and dim. You run your hands up and down your arms to self-soothe and to warm yourself up. Your anxiety grows more and more the longer they make you wait.
Maybe you shouldn’t’ve come here. This was a mistake of gigantic proportions, and you know it. Your hands start to itch instead of soothe. Your bottom lip is already bitten to hell, and you stand up, ready to leave and forget you ever even tried to do this.
But the door opens.
And there he is.
You freeze in place, no longer as put together as you tried to appear. Instead, you’re right back into who you were last year. Your heart hammers against your ribs, trying to escape through them to get as far away from him as it can. You wish your feet would follow.
The rattling and jingling of his handcuffs hitting the small table as he sits opposite you make your ears ring and static erupts in your brain. All systems sound the alarm: danger, danger, danger, get out. But you block it out. There’s glass in between you, he can’t hurt you.
You take a small step forward, back towards the chair you were just in. He watches you like a snake would a mouse.
A heavy sound behind him informs you both that the guard has left, the door shutting behind him. The air around you feels thick, like you have to double your efforts just to breathe normally.
He still looks just as handsome as he did when you last saw him. Dammit.
The metal of the chair scrapes unpleasantly against the floor as you sit back down, ignoring the giant lump forming in your throat. For a moment, you still can’t bring yourself to look at him, but you can feel the weight of his stare. You’re glad you chose this baggy, loose-fitting outfit. Subconsciously chosen so that he couldn’t see your body. Yunho makes a face as he looks at your outfit as he sits there, waiting for you to say something. You can tell that he disapproves.
Your entire body starts to feel feverish the longer you prolong this.
“Hi…” you mumble, clearing your throat right after.
Yunho tsk’s, waiting for a certain word to accompany that greeting. You know which one. You look down at your lap, picking at the skin around your nails. If you thought you felt hot before, it’s nothing compared to now as a fierce blush blooms across your cheeks, warming your whole face.
“I’m not supposed to call you that anymore,” you inform him, still not quite meeting his eyes. He seems to tower over you even while sitting. Was that always the case or did he get taller?
Yunho places his elbows down on the little table and rests his chin on the heels of his hands. The little chain linking the cuffs pulls taut. “Mhm. And who told you that?”
“T-the… my…” you trail off, unable to speak. The words ‘the officers’ and ‘my psychologist’ just die on your tongue.
Yunho smirks, knowing the effect he’s having on you.
“Why are you here, baby?” He purrs, tilting his head to one side.
The pet name makes your skin crawl and a dark part of your mind sing. Your hands begin to shake again, but you just sit on them, trying to remain calm and strong. At least externally. You can do this.
You’re in control.
He’s the one behind bars – well, glass at the moment. He can’t get to you physically, and if he tries, the two guards keeping watch of your visit will tear you away from him before you could even blink. It’s like seeing a shark at the aquarium. Protected and kept apart by the glass, you know you’re safe, but there’s always the same thought that looms in the back of your mind: if the glass suddenly disappears, you’re in his element. At his mercy. Would you scream and kick for the surface, or would you just succumb to him like you used to? An hour ago you were sure of which one you’d pick. Now, you’re not so sure. Not while face to face with the threat itself.
Despite this, there’s a reason you came to see him. You have something for him.
Instead of verbally responding to his question, you simply reach into your pocket and pull out his rosary. His eyes widen at the sight of it. So that’s where it’s been this whole time.
“This belongs to you,” you murmur, stating the obvious. “I w-wanted to return it.”
You can tell you’ve gotten under his skin this time. You don’t feel smug or proud about it. No matter how thick the glass is, you’re still afraid of him. Of all people, you know exactly what he’s capable of. He doesn’t need to touch you to hurt you.
He lowers his hands back down, drumming his fingers on the table. The sound makes your skin crawl. You gently place it down in front of you. He almost reaches for it, like he forgot the glass is there for a second before retracting his hand, cracking his knuckles in quiet and controlled frustration.
“How thoughtful,” he hums, his voice tight.
Involuntarily, you blush again, your lips parting to thank him for such small praise. You nervously run a hand through your hair, trying to pass it off as nothing. The air shifts. The power dynamic between the two of you skews even further towards him.
The smirk that slowly grows on his face is pure evil. Sickly sweet, manipulative. Your skin crawls, waves of adrenaline zip down your spine and into your legs, every instinct telling you to get out there now.
“You missed me, didn’t you?” He sneers, leaning forward to get even more into your space. He lazily gestures to the rosary, “Just wanted to see me again?”
Unwilling to back down from him, you ignore those instincts. You stay put, right where you are. You pull the collar of the hoodie away from your neck, suddenly feeling rather suffocated.
“No.” You say as firmly as you can, not offering him anything more to work with. A simple ‘no’ is good enough.
He laughs, his amusement evident. “You’re not being very nice to me, are you?”
“I j-just… I n-needed to see you in h-here,” your voice wobbles a little as you stammer. You’re unable to think or speak clearly. It’s like your mind’s been suddenly placed on pause, slamming on the brakes while going one hundred miles an hour. You try to remember if you had been like this when he first took you. This pathetic. “I don’t have t-to be nice to you.”
“Look at you,” he smirks, leaning back in his chair, without a single care in the world. Superior to you even now. “Acting so high and mighty all of a sudden. Already forgotten who’s in charge, huh?” His voice lowers in volume on the last sentence spoken, leveling you with just a sharp glare.
You shake your head, refusing to let him get in your head like this. Not without a fight. “You’re not in ch-charge of me anymore.”
Yunho doubles down, his voice a soft purr. The same timbre he used to make you forgive him for almost drowning you in the bath. Sympathetic, warm, caring, safe.
“Aww, poor baby. Is it hard to have nobody telling you what to do anymore? Bet you miss that structure, don’t you?”
“Stop it,” you snap at him, though there’s not a lot of edge to your voice. “I’m not yours.”
“Yes you are. You keep waiting for me to praise you… is that what you want? Need my validation? Need to know I don’t hate you for ratting me out to the police?”
“I only came back for Seonghwa.” You say before you can stop yourself. One of your hands flies up to your mouth before hesitating, twitching in the space between your mouth and your lap. Using every single ounce of courage, your eyes flick up to garner his reaction.
You’ve seen that look before.
Through fire, water, earth, and air, you’ve seen it. You’ve never been so grateful to have a thick pane of glass separating you from him.
From the cold metal of the room, you can smell the forest again. The water burns your throat and nose. The snow freezes your skin. The flames lick at your legs.
His jaw twitches and he laughs once, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. There’s no readable expression on his face, not that he lets you see. His hands curl into fists and he hides them in his lap. His bangs cover his eyes as he looks down, jaw clenching and unclenching.
“Park fucking Seonghwa…” he says under his breath, shaking his head in amused disbelief.
Your hand massages your throat, trying to ease the lump in there. He can’t hurt you. You can leave any time.
So why aren’t you?
You came all the way here to give his rosary back to him, to see him in jail with your own eyes in an attempt to stop your nightmares and paranoia. You’ve done what you set out to do. Leave.
However, you’re glued to your seat, and you start to wonder if he’s right in some of the things he’s saying. Are you still seeking his validation? Even though you wanted to come across as confident and better off without him, that charade quickly vanished upon seeing him again. You instantly retreated back into your timid, obedient self that took months to shed off of your normal behavior. Back at square one, you can’t stop the brutal self-deprecating thoughts that berate and jeer at your failure. How easily you crumble in front of him. How small you feel when his eyes are on you. The past months of work you’ve put in with your therapist and the fruition of progress you’ve been so proud of disappear altogether as if they never happened. As if you never left.
You steal another glance at him, and fight against the intensely strong urge to comfort him, clarify what you meant. You hate seeing him upset, especially when you’re to blame for it. He looks so dejected… you’ve never seen him like this. There’s no fire within him anymore, not like before. You have to really force yourself to not say anything to him. It’s none of his business what your relationship with Seonghwa is or is not, especially when you aren’t even sure.
You wipe your eyes with your sleeve, smudging the mascara and eyeliner.
Don’t cry. Please, don’t cry, not in front of him.
You inhale sharply, trying to collect yourself and keep the tears at bay as long as you can. In all honesty, you just want to put your head down on the little table and scream. You don’t have to explain yourself to him. You don’t owe him anything, right?
It’s a question that’s still hard to answer. Obviously you don’t owe him anything, not a damn thing. But you can’t block out the quiet moments you two shared as easily. The good times you had were so good, even if they will never come close to cancelling out the bad. You think, at least for a period of time, you may have actually loved him. Or, felt something quite close to it. Maybe that’s why you want to explain yourself to him, because you still can’t fully deny that you don’t feel anything towards him anymore. You doubt you’ll ever really know. It’s not that simple. Trying to move on from a man who would burn the entire world for you is not something easily done.
The most terrifying realization you’ve had to face at home was feeling that you may never feel as strongly for someone other than Yunho ever again.
Your shoulders hunch and you shrink in the chair, chin to chest.
What you don’t see as you bow your head, is the drastic and visible change in Yunho. No longer smug or condescending, he becomes distant as he holds back his true emotions. Head down as well, his eyes search the floor, his lap, his hands. For what exactly, he himself isn’t even sure. For once, he doesn’t have a quick, lashing reply to give back to you. He bites the inside of his cheek. He slouches in the chair.
Another fantasy dragged back into harsh reality. Disintegrating right in front of him. Again.
Because as much as he denied it, and despite what he has told you… Yunho really does love you.
You were never nothing to him, you were everything. Telling you that he only loved broken things turned out to not be true. Not exactly. At one time, he thought it was true, but he realized he was only talking through his anger and frustration. Not from any substantial meaning. No, he only let you in as deep as he let anyone else get, just surface level. Treading the water there so he can keep an eye on everyone he allows in. You were dangerously close to venturing further, getting to the very heart of him.
He denied himself of you. From seeing you that night in the convenience store, he denied himself of you.
Call it an act of self-sabotage, or that he didn’t know what he was in for, but he saw something in you that none of the others had. A certain spark, a glow, not just potential for his own sick view of what he could shape you into, but also a strength that told him you can persevere. Kindness, humility, beauty, and a natural magnetic attraction that damn near pulled all the members towards you. Of course Mingi fell for you. And now Seonghwa…
Surprisingly, he’s not mad. Not at all. Actually, for the first time, he feels quite defeated. Seeing you past the glass only confirmed that he’ll never have you the way his soul wants. A rather delusional part of him thinks you still want him. That you’ll always want him. That you love him.
He needs to hear you say it so bad. So bad.
But he won’t ask you. He won’t even entertain the thought. Not when there’s a chance you’ll refuse to say it – he doesn’t think he’ll be able to handle that.
So what can he do? He can either push you away and come to his own conclusions based on how easy it is for you to leave, or he can push you harder, see if you’ll break for him again. Neither one reaps many benefits for either of you. It’s just another assessment of loyalty. Another test.
“Why are you here?” Yunho asks you again.
The rosary starts to turn cold on the table. You don’t have an answer for him. The words just won’t come together in the right order, nor do they hold the depth of what you want to attempt to convey to him. Nothing fits or sounds good enough. Each choice is just as cold and lifeless as this room you’re in, void of any real meaning. None of them hold any weight.
Is there anything worth saying at all?
“I’m not…” you swallow hard, knowing that he’s staring at you without needing to look up and verify, “I’m not afraid of you anymore.”
This silence is different. Instead of coming back immediately with a quip or smug response, he simply lets what you said fully process. He really does seem different. It’s the same kind of mental distance you experienced with him when you and Mingi were still close. Jealousy? Maybe, but you don’t want to assume. For all you know, he could just be pissed off that you’re presumably giving your free attention to Seonghwa instead of him now. He must think you’ve completely abandoned him – which, you know you should do, and yet here you are. But again, Yunho doesn’t know how that specific relationship with you and Seonghwa works.
What you say is true, for the most part. There’s a large part of you that still hungers for his approval, yearns for his touch, misses the idea of him. And there’s another part of you that is comforted knowing that he cannot dictate your life anymore, nor touch you like that ever again. The idea of him you hold onto is your own fantasy, conjured up by the fleeting and counterfeit imitations of care and love that he showed you. Seeing him in here does calm your nervous system though, it tells your paranoid mind that he really is locked in here. He can’t get to you. There are dozens of people, several laws, and physical distance between you that will not allow him to touch you again. The thick glass and the handcuffs aid this thinking as well.
For Yunho, all he can hear is white noise and a sentence he’s haunted himself with for almost a year. His lips press together. He can’t be too surprised that you really were afraid of him the whole time, but again that delusional side of him has been very convincing. It was so easy to believe in his own lie until Mingi derailed it with one fatal blow. Just six words. Now here you are in front of him, speaking freely as yourself for the first time since last February, telling him that you’re not afraid of him.
He’s almost split in half. One side glowing, singing that now you can love him, there’s nothing holding you back from it now, and the other realistic side of him shooting all of that nonsense down. He can’t ignore reality forever.
One of your hands rests on the table, drumming your fingers close to the rosary. He subconsciously mirrors you. Tap, tap, tap.
When he doesn’t say anything for another few silent minutes, you pick your purse up from the floor, placing it in your lap. “I should go…”
Yunho wants nothing more than to jump up and beg you to stay with him. So, he doesn’t. He keeps control, clenching his fists tight, knowing he’s solely to blame for how he ended up. If he was just a little more careful…
He watches you stand, the scraping sound of the chair against the floor digging into his ears. Once again, he holds back what he really wants to say.
“I’ll um–” you pick up the rosary, gesturing over to the guard. Why won’t he speak to you? You shift your weight, not wanting to leave like this. You’ve always been the type to not rest so easy knowing that you’ve said something that hurts someone. Even someone like him.
Ready to go, you don’t move. You don’t knock on the door to let the guard know that you want to leave. You have an idea of why he’s gone so quiet.
“We’re not– Seonghwa and I… it isn’t like that.” You tell him, not as eloquently as you wanted to be.
But it does invoke a response of some nature. A single nod, indicating that he understands as simply as possible.
You continue, “I’m not ready for that kind of thing yet.”
“‘Yet’,” Yunho echoes, surprising you by replying quickly this time. “But you will. One day.”
He sniffs, leaning back in the chair. The rest of his sentence goes unsaid, insinuated and understood by you. ‘And it won’t be with me’.
You bite your lip, hand absentmindedly tugging at your sweatshirt, pulling it away from the healed scars on your chest. Your heart is threatening to leak through them.
“I don’t know,” you admit honestly. Right now, you don’t see yourself getting into any kind of relationship in the near future. You don’t want to. You’re afraid everything will remind you of him. You’re afraid you’ll compare – that fear of never feeling the same level of devotion to someone ever again keeps you alone.
“You will. And he’ll be there, I’m sure.” Yunho fails to hold back a scoff. His nails dig into his palms, close to breaking skin. “But all he’ll do is remind you of me.”
Your muscles tense.
There’s a hurt tone to his voice that he tries in vain to hide. Not enough to be obvious unless you knew him quite well… which you do.
It dawns on you then that the two of you trigger each other so much. He triggers your fears, your perfectionism, your traumas, and you trigger his abandonment issues, his overprotectiveness, and his desperate desire for love. Fake or real. He was so close with you. This time, he felt it. The others told him they loved him like they were reading a line from a book. Too rehearsed, without any feeling. You were the only one who almost convinced him.
You know he thinks it’s easier to just push you away if he can’t have you the way he wants.
And suddenly, you think of something worth asking him.
“Were you going to kill me that night?”
He pauses to keep his true emotions in check. He’s not about to let you read him so easily when it comes to this topic.
“Which one?” He asks, lazily, trying to come across as unbothered, nonchalant, but his eyes betray him.
You can see a slight twinge of wariness, like you’re getting too close to the truth of him. Something he’s hidden from everyone else so seamlessly. That’s how you know you’re on the right track, asked the right question. Also, you’d genuinely like to know. Having the answer, fake or real, may help some of the nightmares you keep having ever since that night.
“The last one,” you clarify quietly.
He clears his throat, procrastinating by readjusting how he’s sitting in the chair, straightening up and crossing his legs. He feels caught. The handcuffs dig into his wrists. The only way he can keep control is to not give you what you want – a straightforward answer, but instead, he speaks truthfully.
“I don’t know,” he says, his eyes landing on the silver bracelet fastened on your wrist.
He wonders who gave that to you… it matches his rosary.
You nod once, knowing that’s the best you’ll get out of him. It does kind of tell you everything you needed to know, though. It pairs well with what you remember from that night, the shock and horror on his face when he realized he shot you instead of his intended target, and his many attempts to try and break out of Jongho’s hold on him to rush to your side. You have your answer.
And now you’re not sure what to do with it. You’re still standing in front of him like an idiot, leaving and not leaving at the same time.
His eyes flicker over towards the door on your side of the room. “You should go.”
That startles you almost, and your feet move immediately, like they were waiting for his permission. You don’t miss how the corner of his mouth twitches, and you’re thankful that this time, he doesn’t point it out. He doesn’t have to. Such a small thing like that all but confirms his delusional side’s way of thinking. He latches onto it quickly as he watches you try to slip through his fingers again.
Even if you choose Seonghwa down the line, you’ll still be his. When you’re just a step away from the door, he lets you know that.
“No one will ever love you as much as I do.”
That nearly kills you. It strikes you harder than a fist or a bullet ever did. Hearing the admission you’d been waiting for for all of last year… it almost makes you crumble completely. You knew it, you knew you were right.
He loved you, and still does.
You feel your breath leave your lungs like you’ve been hit there again. Shakily, you turn to look over your shoulder, expecting to see him basking in his small victory, taunting you that his claws are deep in you even after all of this time apart, and that they will continue to be for the foreseeable future.
Except you don’t see that at all. What you thought was a jeering, condescending comment, doesn’t quite match the look on his face. A mix of a small, knowing smile which you expected, and utter desperation, selfishly hoping you’ll never be able to move on from him, that you’ll always come back to him. As hard as it is to admit it to himself, he needs you. So, he’ll revert back to methods that he knows worked on you once. Manipulation, for one.
The desperation that he fails to conceal is what gives him away. You stand your ground, refusing to fall for him again.
“And no one will ever hurt me as much as you have.” You mean to stay strong, but your voice cracks and wobbles halfway through.
You watch his lips part, his eyes widening ever so slightly.
He's always had a talent for hand-picking words and placing them in the exact order that will make you remember them for months to come. Maybe even years. You really have learned from the best.
You tear your eyes away, and it turns out to be the hardest thing to do. Your fist knocks on the door too hard, too urgently. The guard lets you out quickly and asks if you’re okay. You just nod, breathing erratically. He doesn’t believe you, but you’re already walking away, eager to get the hell out of here. Even well past his line of sight, you can somehow still feel Yunho’s eyes on you. Your teeth start to chatter as you collect your phone from one of the guards, barely audibly thanking them as you hitch your purse higher up on your shoulder. You force yourself to walk slower. High stress, high emotions, and high pace can’t be a good combination for your lungs.
When the sun hits you again, you gasp for the fresh air. The very thing you used to hide from, in this moment, you can’t get enough of it. You sit on a bench outside, hands shakily ordering an Uber that cannot come fast enough. Pressing a hand to your head, you will your body to calm down before you act crazy in front of this poor stranger coming to pick you up. You can imagine the headlines if the driver recognizes you, first of all, and tells the press that you were shaken up after visiting the very same prison Yunho is being kept in.
Your parents would never let you leave the house ever again, much less the fucking country.
For a moment you panic, and then remember the time difference. Both of them are surely asleep now, and you relax at the lack of frantic text messages from either of them. Thank god–
The fresh air helps, a gentle breeze occasionally caressing your hair off of your shoulders. You busy your hands by sending Seonghwa a text.
Luckily, he responds right away. Unluckily, he asks how your visit went.
Obviously, he’d been rather opposed to the very idea of you going to see Yunho by yourself. It led to a fight between you, though both of you saw where the other was coming from. He knows you’re an adult and can make your own decisions, and you know that he didn’t want you to give Yunho another chance to hurt you again. When the anger had subsided, he let you know he’d support you no matter what you decide to do. As always.
By the time the Uber gets there, you still haven’t answered Seonghwa’s question. All you send back is a simple, ‘omw’.
· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·
Seonghwa opens the door before you can even knock.
You duck inside, knowing how bad it’d be if anyone saw you going into his apartment. It’s smaller than the one you were kept in, but a lot more lived in. Signs of life decorated every inch of it. He’d told you it’s taken a while for him to adjust to living alone. Whenever he gets out of the shower, he still sometimes expects to see San curled up in his bed instead of his own down the hall.
It’s a temporary place. For now, it works.
You think it’s lovely.
“Hongjoong came by earlier,” Seonghwa says. “He um… yeah, he just told me to say that he hopes you’re doing okay.”
You nod, sitting down on his couch. Something tells you there’s more to that, but you don’t press him for details. All you can think to say in response is, “Oh. Well… tell him I said ‘thank you’ and ‘same for you’.”
“Are you?”
“Am I?” You ask, tilting your head.
Seonghwa sits next to you, one cushion over. “Are you okay?”
You know he wants to know about your visit with Yunho, and you’ll tell him eventually. Right now though, it is the last thing you want to do. You haven’t seen Seonghwa in person since your last day in the hospital, eight months ago. Sitting here, on his couch, not two feet away from each other, all you want is to just… sleep, actually. You want to be held, even though you know it’s selfish to want to ask of him, and fall asleep together like you did last December. Before either of you were hurt.
You push that need down.
“I’ll be alright,” you say behind a weak smile.
He looks like he wants to say something, but ultimately decides against it, keeping his mouth shut. Instead, he places his hand on the cushion between you. He lets you decide whether or not to hold it.
Of course, you do.
The reconnection feels like coming home. So many things are conveyed through just a simple touch. Commiserations, apologies, trust, and admissions that you’re both glad to see each other again. It’s a special, impenetrable bond, and for the time being, that’s good enough for both of you. It has to be. There’s still too many things to work out and work through to be anything other than just… two people there for each other. It’s an unspoken arrangement. Neither of you are willing to admit why it’s needed.
“How are the others?” You ask, genuinely curious.
Seonghwa leans back, resting against one of the pillows on the couch. “They’re alright. We’re still constantly in touch with each other, so… that’s nice.”
Well, the six of them are.
Mingi’s being held in a separate prison on the opposite side of Seoul, on the outskirts of the city. He’ll get out before Yunho does, having taken a plea bargain and willingly cooperated with law enforcement.
You ask about each of them, where they are and what they’re doing. You’re not surprised to know that they all live quite close to each other. Yeosang and San even live in the same apartment complex. It’s nice to know that they’re all still somewhat together despite everything. You’ve been told about the fight Jongho, Wooyoung and San are leading to keep Yunho in prison for longer than he was sentenced. Without the USB or the files from his laptop, they’re trying to find other forms of evidence to get him charged with homicide, and get justice for the girls and the manager. You’ve seen the mixed social media reactions. Some view it as admirable, others call it performative.
Hongjoong and Yeosang are both relatively off the radar, intent on maintaining a low profile. This, apparently, is almost normal for both of them. ‘Chronic homebodies’, Seonghwa calls them. Still, you naturally worry about them.
The three of them are planning to move abroad early next year. Since the three of them were most implicated in the case, the public outrage towards them despite their contributions towards your rescue, and despite your written testimony that they were not privy to the truth of who you were when Yunho introduced them, has proven to be impossible to simply ignore. Not even the ‘chronic homebodies’ want to be sheltered inside forever, anxious about going outside.
Hopefully western Europe will be more peaceful for them.
An hour into talking, you’re now curled up on the couch while he plays with your fingers, making small noises of disapproval wherever he sees that you still pick at your nails and the skin around them. He just doesn’t want you to hurt yourself like that. On more than one occasion, he’s threatened to buy you a fidget toy or something to help you stop the habit.
He closes your hand, setting it down again and rubs his thumb against the back of it. Another hour later, there’s a natural lull in the conversation as the apartment starts to darken. The sun is peeking out from behind some of the taller buildings in Seoul, beginning its early descent.
The two of you stand in his kitchen as he cooks dinner. He swears he’s gotten better now that he has to fend for himself. The money he’s made from being an idol won’t hold out forever, so he’s trying to be smart about it now and not order takeout so much anymore. He offhandedly says that you should have something that Wooyoung cooks sometime, as he’s the best chef in the group, but he gets quiet afterwards. You don’t push it.
You eat in the living room, feet tucked under you as Seonghwa flicks through all the options on Netflix. You eat slowly, but you’re almost halfway done before he picks something from the ‘Oscar Winning’ category. It’ll do for now. Good background noise while you eat. He checks in on you twice, asking if the food is actually good or if you’re being nice to him, and offering to get you more. You wave him off playfully both times, likening him to a mother hen. It’s a nice little dynamic.
Halfway through the movie, the sun has disappeared altogether. You haven’t planned on staying the night with him or anything like that, but he’s not kicking you out either. You look down at your purse on the floor, resting against the couch, making a mental inventory of what you have in there. Wallet, perfume, headphones, fan, gum, pill pouch stocked with Tylenol in case of flare ups, and a portable charger. You sneak a glance at Seonghwa, who’s busy finishing his second serving of food, eyes flicking up from the bowl to watch the movie. It doesn’t feel like you’re intruding, but you hate to overstay your welcome. The unofficial plan you made for this visit was only a couple hours at most. Already, you’re dangerously close to several hours.
A couple minutes later, Seonghwa collects the empty bowls and dishes that have accumulated on his coffee table, and places them in the sink to wash later. He wants to now, but instead he just lets them soak until the movie is over. You watch him as he walks back to you, sitting himself down a little closer to you than before.
You don’t allow yourself to think anything of it. Not even when you adjust the way you’re sitting, leaning towards him. If you think about it too much, you know who you’ll hear. You know what you’ll remember. You’d rather keep the world and everyone in it out for as long as you can. Since arriving here, you’ve been doing a pretty good job so far, despite the state you were in when you left the prison earlier.
It’s comforting knowing that any silence between you isn’t awkward or tense, it’s just natural. Even more comforting to know that you can’t say or do anything that will ever make him lash out or physically hurt you. The bare minimum, you know, but you’re working on it. You just… feel safe with him in the little things.
That’s the tricky part – the little things, they all pile up, don’t they?
You know you may have waded too deep when you rest your head on his shoulder and he sighs, letting his body relax more into the couch. You lift up, thinking he may be opposed to you doing that, but he guides you back down, not making a big deal of it. The rest of the movie goes by with the two of you staying just like that. Nothing more, nothing less.
When the movie ends, you know you should leave.
You engage in polite small-talk about your assessments of the film, coming to a similar conclusion about it: ‘pretty good’. His eyes glance up towards the kitchen sink, and he bites his lip.
“Would you mind if I washed the dishes really fast?” He asks.
“Oh, no, go ahead,” you say, sitting up straight to let him go. “I can um… I should probably go back to my hotel.”
Seonghwa stops mid-stride to turn around and look at you.
“Oh–” he starts to say but pauses for a moment, wrestling with his inner monologue on what to say next. He looks at the digital clock on the oven. “It’s um…”
“Yeah… I don’t want to intrude.” You smile weakly, gathering your purse. It’s not that late yet, but you’re not terribly keen on going back by yourself in the dark if you can avoid it.
Seonghwa fidgets with the hem of his shirt, alternating between looking at you, the kitchen, and the television. You’re not sure what he’s thinking. He hops from one foot to another as you stand from the couch.
“Hwa?” You check on him, noticing his anxious behavior. It’s rare that you call him by that nickname, but you’re trying to do it more often.
He scratches the back of his neck, stuck in his own thoughts.
“I uh… if you want– I mean, you can stay here, if you want.”
You’d tease him for his eloquence if you weren’t busy processing what he’s saying. Now you’re stuck.
“I wouldn’t want to intrude,” you say quietly, looking down at your purse. If you stay, you’d need to ask for so many things from him for the night. Clothes to sleep in for one, a toothbrush, a blanket and pillow for the couch, makeup remover, and… no, not that. You put the end of that thought out of your mind. There’s no need for it, you tell yourself.
Seonghwa steps closer to you, “No, not intruding at all. I’d like it if you stayed, but… if you’d rather leave then that’s fine too.”
In danger of sounding too enthusiastic, you make sure he’s being serious about his offer. “Are you sure?”
This time, he just nods. He lets you think it over.
He watches you place your purse down on the couch. You shyly look back up to him, hoping he’s being serious about his offer. He seems to relax again. A hand reaches out for you to take, which you do, and he leads you into the kitchen. You hop up on the kitchen counter, letting your heels gently hit the cabinets as he washes and dries the dishes. You try to convince him to let you help, at least drying them, but he refuses.
“A guest shouldn’t have to do any work,” he states.
When the dishes are done, he brings you into his room so he can get some clothes for you. His room is very… him. That’s the best way you can describe it. You emerge from his closet, in his T-shirt and sweatpants that you roll up so you don’t step on them. He lets you use his bathroom to take your makeup off and tells you there’s a new toothbrush in its packaging in one of the drawers there. That, there is.
You look away quickly when you place the toothbrush next to his in the little holder.
Y/N, it’ll never work, you tell yourself.
He’s back in the living room when you come out of the bathroom, tying your hair up. He looks up at you from the couch and offers a small smile, and your pick for a ‘double feature’ night. You grin as you take the remote from him, sitting next to him and beginning your search. You’ll show him one of your favorites.
As the movie starts, the two of you resume your earlier positions – you leaning against his shoulder, and him settling back against the couch. This time, he has his arm over the back of the couch, and almost halfway through the movie, he lets it drift closer, but ultimately doesn’t touch you. He’s still so overly cautious. You kind of want him to snap out of it, but at the same time, you feel that much more safe with him. He’ll keep himself close enough to make you feel protected, and not like he’s expecting anything from you. By doing this, he gives you the option to either lean into it or ignore it and keep to yourself. It’s there if you want it, and it’s immediately taken away if you don’t.
You wouldn’t have such a choice with Yunho…
By the time the double feature comes to an end, and the credits start to roll up the screen, you’re sleepily smushed into Seonghwa’s side. He gently shakes you and you mumble incoherently that you’re awake while your eyelids lose the fight to stay open. Very convincing. He turns the TV off and takes your hand to help you off the couch. You wake up just enough to stand and rub your eyes.
“Do you have an extra blanket?” You ask, gesturing to the couch. It’s definitely comfortable enough to sleep on.
Seonghwa blinks before understanding. “Oh, yeah, I do.”
He disappears into his room to retrieve it and hands it to you. You wrap it around your shoulders. He shoves his hands in his pockets, unsure of what to say or do in this standstill. He won’t outwardly say what he wants for fear of sounding like Yunho, and you won’t say what you want for fear of making him uncomfortable. The kitchen light casts shadows against both of your faces. You hug the blanket tighter around you.
It’ll never work.
The polite exchanges of ‘goodnight’ send you both off to sleep.
In theory.
You spend an hour on the couch trying to reclaim the heaviness in your eyelids and the deep relaxation needed in order to sleep, but neither will return.
Two hours later, still with no success, you give up for the time being and scroll on your phone. However, you exhaust all of your social media apps rather quickly – you don’t follow many people anyway. Phone set back down, you get up and shuffle to the kitchen to get some water. You feel like you’re snooping through his stuff as you try to find a glass to put said water in, and eventually pull open the right cabinet. As you set it down carefully on the counter, you note the time on the oven clock. Almost two-thirty. You groan inwardly, knowing you’re probably in for a sleepless night.
Oh, well. It’s better than potentially having a nightmare on his couch, you suppose.
You wince as the cabinet closes a little too loudly, hopefully not disturbing Seonghwa while he sleeps. Trying to be even more quiet, you fill your glass with water and lean against the kitchen counter, just taking in the view of his apartment from there. You like the huge windows in the living room the most. It takes up most of the wall space and boasts a rather pretty view of the city. You take a small sip, the water feeling nice so late at night. Definitely needed.
There’s some small rustling noise from Seonghwa’s bedroom and you freeze, hoping you didn’t wake him up with that cabinet.
But he pads out to the kitchen, rubbing one of his eyes and stopping in his tracks once he sees you.
“Hey,” he says quietly, looking over at the discarded blanket on the couch. “You okay?”
You set your glass back down, “Yeah, I’m okay. Can’t sleep.”
He hums, nodding. “I can’t either.”
Instead of awkwardly standing still in front of each other, he moves to your side to get himself a drink as well. Instead of water, he substitutes it for soju. He reasons it might help him sleep. From the same cabinet, he grabs a smaller glass and fills it up about halfway with soju. He drinks it all in one go, wincing slightly as it burns down. You laugh lightly at his expression, and his ears turn pink. You wonder what type of drunk he is. Maybe one day you’ll find out, you doubt he’s about to get hammered tonight. He takes another shot, and then puts the bottle away.
Something tells you he drinks in order to sleep quite a lot.
You cradle your little glass of water self-consciously. Being here may be nice for you, but it could be triggering him, and he’s just too nice to you to say anything. You look down at his clothes hanging off your body and bite your lip.
“Hey,” he gets your attention, “enough of that.”
“What?” You ask, even though you know he caught you overthinking.
“I want you here. And this,” he gestures to the bottle, “is getting better.”
You lower your head again, feeling caught. He also all but confirmed that what you were thinking is true, or was up until recently.
“I don’t dream if I drink,” he says in a quieter voice. “So…”
Maybe it’s late-night courage, or what have you, but you set your water down and wrap your arms around him in a hug. You’ve wanted to do this since you walked in. Luckily, he doesn’t tense or back away from you like you’re afraid he will. No, he pulls you tighter against him, sighing against your hair as one of his hands rests on the back of your head.
Two broken people in the kitchen, holding the pieces of each other together.
You’re not sure how long you stay like this, but when you two eventually pull away, he takes your hand. He avoids eye contact again, trying to build enough confidence to say something.
“I don’t like sleeping alone,” he admits.
Your cheeks warm. He knows you don’t either. That’s one of the things Yunho told him the night he left. “Me neither.”
Seonghwa nods once. You look back over at the couch. Surely the two of you can be comfortable there for the night? You don’t want to intrude on his private space. You feel like a vampire, you can’t go into a room without being invited first.
This invitation isn’t verbal.
Seonghwa gently leads you into his room before hurrying back to the couch to grab the blanket again. When he reenters, you’re still standing in the middle of his room. God, both of you are so awkward and so overly cautious with each other. You think it’ll just be like this until you both get better mentally. You already plan to talk with him in the morning. For now, you let him know that you don’t feel pressured, and that you want to be here.
He physically relaxes, obviously worried about that until you said something. He gets into bed first, sighing once he settles down. You get in after him slowly, still checking him to see if it’s okay, if he’s not regretting his offer. It doesn’t look like it.
You lay apart, with a few inches of distance between you two, for a couple of minutes, both trying to sleep. It is quickly apparent that this won’t help. You risk moving closer to him, laying your hand next to his. Still awake as well, he plays with your bracelet for a while before he moves to hold your hand properly.
It’s a gradual shift, testing the waters to see what the other is okay with. Eventually, there are no more inches of distance between you, and you’re curling up by his side, your arm laid over his torso, and his arm wrapped around you.
“Does this feel… is this okay?” He checks one more time as the soju starts to kick in, dragging him towards sleep. He fights against it for a little longer, needing to hear your verdict.
You look around the room.
Trinkets overflow off of shelves, a huge monitor on his LED illuminated desk, an equally large Lego collection showcased behind glass, a bladeless fan perched on his nightstand, also equipped with soft LED lights, and small, miscellaneous plants anywhere else there’s room.
You look up at him.
His eyelashes dust the tops of his cheeks as he waits for your reply. He holds a slight tension in his hand, ready to either let go of you entirely, or pull you in closer.
And suddenly, there’s no more forest. No more cameras or fire. No more water or knives or guns, or belts. There’s no more betrayal, tests, or fear. There’s only him. And for tonight, that’s enough. That will make all the difference in the world. Everything else you’ll figure out in the morning, already visualizing the many texts you’ll wake up to from your mother, asking where the hell you are. You’re content to stay right here until your flight home, honestly.
You nuzzle your cheek against the space between his shoulder and his chest. His cheek rests against the top of your head and he gently presses you closer. Both of you breathe in the other.
SAN gets off the thought of his pretty and sweet girlfriend being fucked and ruined by his best friend, WOOYOUNG.
hiding from you in the bathroom, when it's the middle of the night, while you are sleeping under his covers. you don't know that he jerks off more often now, because fuck, he can't stop imagining it. diamond-like tears in your eyes, spilling down on your soft cheeks, as his best friend takes control over your body.
san knows exactly how wooyoung'd tease you, how he’d push your buttons, and pull reactions out of you that your boyfriend himself can't... gosh, the idea of you coming apart under someone else’s hands makes something twist in his chest.
images clear as day flash of you being fucked dumb, and crying out two names, when you are being devilishly stretched out for the very first time by another man's cock. while san's going to be fisting his, watching, helpless and aroused all at once, torn between wanting to stop it and wanting to join.
thinking about you being stuffed full of his best friend's cum, and before he knows it, your boyfriend cums in his hand, white drops falling on the floor. heart racing like it's going to run away on its own, breathing heavily, and it’s not even the act itself that gets him — it’s you.
because when he crawls back into bed beside you, all clean, slipping an arm around your waist and pressing his face into your hair, he looks like the kind of man anyone would trust without question. but beneath that softness is a mind that doesn’t rest, having fantasies he locks away behind sweet smiles and soft touches.
kissing your shoulder as if he isn’t hiding a thousand twisted thoughts behind closed eyes, as if perfection hasn’t learned how to wear love like a mask. san wonders how long he can resist sending wooyoung a risky text to come over tonight.
