#~pan

[makersanddreamers]

♬ for Pan

Send me a ♬ and I’ll create a five song playlist from my muse to yours.

1. Spring Awakening - The Dark I Know Well2. Secret & Whisper - Attacker3. Anberlin - (*fin)4. Within Temptation - The Howling5. Oomph! - Augen Auf

[makersanddreamers]

Somewhere between the here of the cage and the there of wherever Pan is taking him, Minwoo slips into unconsciousness. But then, perhaps that’s a blessing. He doesn’t feel the way Pan slings him around, even more careless now that his young charge is no longer awake and coherent. Nor does he feel the way the rope bites into the chafed skin of his wrists, or the way something in his shoulder pops out of place.

Minwoo is lucky. The pain doesn’t rouse him. Even as he’s jostled into a car and taken back to where he’d walked into Pan’s clutches, he sleeps.

As he’s dumped -- still tied, still blinded -- Minwoo wakes briefly, but there’s nowhere to go, no escape to be had. He’s free, but he he’s still bound, and until he hears the telltale crunch of dirt under tires, he doesn’t move. As soon as the car is gone, Minwoo forces himself into an upright position and fights to pull the blindfold from his eyes.

It gives just enough that he can see, from one eye, just enough of the path to get moving. So he does. It’s dusk, thankfully, and even then it’s too much all at once, the glow of sunset and the rising moon nearly too much for his overly sensitive eyes. On top of that, Minwoo can only take two or three staggering steps at a time before he has to stop and lean against whatever’s close for support, but at least he’s moving. At least he’s headed home.

[makersanddreamers]

There's a sharp laugh. Pan's trying to account for this in his planning, really he is. But Minwoo refuses to eat. If anything, he can consider him ahead of schedule. After a sharp tug to the roots of Tootles' hair, he presses his free hand firmly to his back. "Open that door for me, would you? Yes, good, thank you."

Minwoo stumbles and scrambles, holding his weight for a moment, but then his legs are giving way, and the pain doesn’t bother him as he sags into Pan’s grip. He just doesn’t care any more. He doesn’t have the strength to fight or to care, and if he can burden and bother Pan, then so be it.

[makersanddreamers]

"What a shame, indeed." He proceeds to drag him onto his feet further, although he doesn't bother to wait on him after. No, Pan immediately begins to walk forward, Minwoo firm in his grasp. "I figure you can rot, knowing that your boys didn't come for you.

Minwoo stifles a noise of pain, teeth gritting together as he’s hauled across his human-sized cage. He can’t get his feet beneath himself, can’t find balance or purchase as he struggles to keep up. Vaguely, he wonders if, had he been here longer, the others would have eventually come. By his count, Minwoo has been captive for two weeks. No more than three. They know better than to rush in half-cocked, even if he wishes they would have.  “Fair,” he breathes, agreeing.

[makersanddreamers]

"Don't be this way, Tootles." He unlatches the cell with a soft sigh. "You've managed to whittle down even my patience for you." Pan grips him by the hair, lifting him to his knees with a harsh tug. "I'm tired of you wasting my resources, and my time. I'm just going to have to dump your sad little body where I found it."

Oh. Minwoo finds himself smiling, with ample enough energy to spare on a breathy, weak, “What a shame.” And the smile, god the smile. He hopes it cuts Pan deep and digs beneath his skin. This is a battle that Minwoo has won, even if he’s nearly lost everything else in order to do so. “Gonna kill me first?”

[makersanddreamers]

Several nights have passed -- perhaps a week or two. Pan, as Minwoo's captor, has been checking on him periodically. He's even been gracious enough to offer food, all of which suffers the same fate of rotting against the wall or on the floor, uneaten. "Oh, Tootles~..."

Minwoo hears Pan coming, but he’s fighting just to stay awake. He’s so tired, and he only has a limited supply of energy. Words take more energy than actions, oddly enough, to Minwoo lifts his head, levels a blinded stare in the direction of the offensive voice, then allows himself to slump again. He wonders, privately, if this is what dying feels like. With Pan’s voice a devil in his ears, it seems to be the most accurate thought.

[makersanddreamers]

"Poor boy... Seems you don't know your family as well as you hoped." He lifts the tray, carrying it with him. If Minwoo wants to eat, he can be reduced to the soggy remains on the floor. "Goodbye, my precious Tootles. Until dinner time." His fingers close around the handle of the door, unlatching it and escaping out through the passage. Hopefully, he'll eat. Or else he'll have to really let him go.

Minwoo doesn’t stoop to goodbyes. He closes his eyes against the darkness of the blindfold, leans back, and tries to convince himself that he’s not hungry, and he’s not thirsty, and that one day the others will come for him and take him home. It’s a vain hope, but it’s the only one Minwoo has left.