Chapter Text
Words: 7,274 rip
Ignorance is bliss, they say.
But how can it be bliss when you feel like your head is going to explode at any moment now? It’s been hours and instead of getting any work done, you’ve been lying on your bed and thinking too hard about the day with Mingyu, and how he just seemed to be a normal guy. Yet he obviously isn’t, because it has been twice now that you’ve smelled the other side of him. Considering that you had both been in the Quad, alone, there was no reason to doubt you had smelled anything—anyone—but him.
You’re not even sure what your plan is as you grab your phone and text him. Hey, if you don’t mind my asking, what’s your schedule for this semester?
It’s honestly a little eerie how quickly he always replies.
10:05pm
Honestly why are you so formal with me
10:05pm
We need to work on that
10:05pm
Just talk to me like you would any other friend…
10:06pm
Also, of course! Here
Attached to the last text is a screenshot of his schedule; you only scan through it, promising yourself you’ll study it later. At the moment, you notice his first class is at eight in the morning tomorrow, two hours before yours. And that he had stacked all his classes on Tuesdays and Thursdays, so that he had three free days a week.
Your phone beeps again, alerting you to a new text. You’re not surprised to see that it’s Mingyu again.
10:07pm
What’s yours?
You screenshot your own schedule and send it in reply. Sorry, I tend to be formal with people at first. Also, here
Unlike before, it takes a few minutes before he answers.
10:10pm
You poor thing…no days off, huh
I know, you write back. You’re always welcome to come save me
When five minutes pass and he doesn’t reply even though you can see that he’s seen the message, you start to backtrack. See, this is why you don’t try to talk to people, don’t usually try to joke around because you have a strange sense of humor—
10:16pm
You know, there’s a self-saving method called ditching
10:17pm
I’m just kidding. Don’t do that
10:17pm
But maybe I’ll take you up on your offer and kidnap you one day
10:17pm
Like just walk into your class and take you right out and go on an adventure
10:18pm
What do you say?
How are you supposed to answer that? I say I’m ready for an adventure
10:19pm
Haha good ;)
10:20pm
What are you doing? Are you busy?
Nah, you answer. I should be doing homework…but I’m not
You set your phone down next to you, patiently waiting for his reply. You have the widest smile in your face despite your previous worries—what is it with him and making you feel inexplicably happy? What is it about him that makes you forget all of your concerns?
You flinch when you hear your phone ring. You look at the caller ID: Mingyu. “Hello?” you answer, surprised.
“Hey,” he answers, and just his voice over the phone makes shivers run down your spine. It sounds deeper, and since the phone is right next to your ear…you shiver again. “Sorry for calling all of a sudden. I’d rather just talk than text.”
“It’s fine. What’s up?” you ask.
“Nothing much.” He sighs, and an oof comes out, making you think he just plopped into a chair, or a couch, or a bed. You imagine Mingyu lying down on his bed and immediately shake your head to block out the image, not prepared to deal with the surge of emotions. “I just took a shower and now I’m in bed, staring at the pile of books I should be reading and taking notes on…but it’s so comfortable and warm I don’t want to move.”
You shift so that you’re staring at the ceiling as you hold the phone next to your ear. “Me too. I’m seriously considering just ditching class tomorrow.”
“What do you have again?”
“Math.”
“Ouch. But don’t let my bad behavior influence you. You don’t seem like the type to just ditch when you don’t feel like coming.”
It’s true. “Yeah, but…”
Mingyu sighs over the phone and there’s a rustling sound from the other end. “I think I might just go to sleep. Screw the essay.”
“Why would you want to screw the essay when you’re talking to me right now?” you ask, and your cheeks burn the moment the words leave your mouth. What was that? You never flirt. You’re not the flirty type. Yet with him, everything just feels natural, even unnecessarily cheesy and suggestive language.
Mingyu laughs. “You’re right; you’re much more attractive than mere pieces of paper.” He sighs again. “I’m so glad I was able to find you,” he says softly.
“I’m…glad you were too,” you say hesitantly. Because it’s true, to an extent—everything just feels smooth and right when you’re with him. Even talking to him like this over the phone late at night isn’t awkward or forced the way you usually feel with dealing with people you just met.
You wish all over again that you had just imagined the ashy smell, that you were scaring yourself, because there’s no way that such a nice guy could possibly be anything but a kind, warm-hearted person. He sounds sincere, honest, and you can’t help but think about what a gentleman he had been throughout the day. There’s no possible way he could be anything but that—you can’t even wrap your head around the concept of him having anything other than the kind and considerate persona you’ve seen of him.
“Y/N?”
“Hmm?”
Mingyu clears his throat. “I don’t know if I’ve said this before, but…you smell really good.”
You’re really glad this is just a conversation over the phone, and he can’t see you, because you’re sure your entire face is now red. “I, uh…thanks, um—you do too.”
“No, really. You smell like when I walk by the ocean and the breeze picks up and carries with it the scent of the waves. Refreshing. Somehow no matter how tired I may be, you manage to make me feel awake and alive again.”
There’s a weird tingly sensation in your stomach and you fight the urge to fan yourself at his words. But you don’t really feel like thinking about how smells, because that’s what you’ve been doing for too many hours now. So instead, you ask, “Are you, by any chance, drunk, Kim Mingyu?”
“No,” he answers immediately. Then he pauses. “Okay, maybe I had a beer, but I’m not drunk.”
You frown. “You drink so casually like that?”
“Not all the time. I know it’s not good for me. It just helps me not think about…other things.”
“What other things?” You don’t like the sound of that.
“School, stress…the like.” You hear a rustling sound again, and Mingyu sighs. “Does it bother you? I’m trying to cut down, honestly.”
“Yeah, you should.” Almost immediately you realize that it’s still much too early in this relationship—if you can even call it a relationship right now—for you to be telling him what to do. “Sorry, I don’t mean to be all up in your business like that. I mean, who am I to—”
“Stop that,” he says, and you can hear the frustration in his voice.
You’re confused. “Stop what?”
“Stop treating me like you would any other stranger. You don’t have to apologize for being ‘up in my business’ because you’re my soulmate. I care about you, and I worry about you and your health. And I sure as hell hope you worry about mine, too.”
Your first reaction is to want to apologize again, but seeing how he had just told you not to apologize, you’re not sure what to say. “Like I said,” he says more softly, “just treat me like a friend. A close friend. Okay, hopefully more than just a friend eventually, but…you don’t have to worry so much about overstepping some kind of boundary. Between you and me, there’s a very blurred one. At least, that’s how I see it.”
Then what secrets are you keeping? “Oh,” is your only reply, though.
“Yeah, so anyway, I know you’re probably not happy with my drinking. My friends tell me the same thing.” Mingyu heaves another sigh. “So I’m working on it.”
“That’s good.” God, why are you so awkward? “I’ll trust you on that.”
“Mmmm.”
There’s a silence, and you squirm, trying to find either something else to talk about or a way to say goodbye without making it sound like you’re trying to get away—which is tricky, because you are.
Fortunately, Mingyu breaks the silence first. “Y/N?” he mumbles into the phone, voice somehow even deeper than before.
“Yeah?”
“I’m gonna fall asleep.”
“Okay. Good night.”
“Don’t hang up,” he whines, and he sounds like such a kid that you almost laugh.
“Alright,” you sigh, shifting the phone to your other ear and sitting up. It’s getting late, but you should at least try to get some work done.
You put your phone on speaker as you settle into your chair, open up your textbook, and start to look over your notes. Normally, you would put on some soft piano music as you studied, but today, for some reason, the soft sounds of Mingyu’s breathing seems fitting.
It’s one in the morning before you put your pen down and rub your palms against your eyes. You stand and stretch, smiling at the sound of Mingyu on the other end of the phone, whose breathing has turned into soft snores.
“Good night, Mingyu,” you whisper as you set your phone next to your pillow and pull your blanket into a cocoon around you.
You’re answered with an especially loud snore from Mingyu, and you snicker. Maybe you should record this. But not right now, because you’re too lazy, and you can barely keep your eyes open. Tomorrow, you promise yourself as you slip into unconsciousness.
-
You wake up to lots of grumbling and muttering. Squinting, you look at the clock: seven-thirty. Strange—your alarm isn’t supposed to go off for another two hours, and you bury your head back into your pillow before you realize what all the mumbled curses are and where they’re coming from.
Eyes still closed, you reach out with your hand, blindly groping the area near your head until you feel the cool surface of your phone. You grab it. “Mingyu?”
“What the fu—oh. Y/N? Has the call been going all night?”
“Mmmm.”
“Sorry, did I wake you?” There’s a minute of rustling and you frown, holding the phone away from you until it stops and Mingyu’s voice comes across much clearer than before.
“You could have just hung up when you realized I was knocked out,” he says, chuckling.
“You said not to hang up,” you croak into the phone.
“My, my, what a beautiful voice you have first thing in the morning.”
You bury your face completely into your pillow. “Shut up,” you say, and it comes out muffled, but you can’t bring yourself to care so early in the morning.
Mingyu laughs, but stops abruptly and you hear a voice in the background. “Hang on,” he tells you, and his voice is muffled and distanced. From what you can tell though, based on Mingyu’s raised voice, it sounds like he’s arguing with someone. “Sorry,” he says a few minutes later.
“Did you get into a fight with your roommate or something?” you ask him.
“I…yeah. Kind of. Anyway, I have to head out now. I’ll call you later, okay? Go back to sleep.”
“Okay.”
Mingyu ends the call and you sigh, closing your eyes and trying to find sleep again. It doesn’t come, though, and after half an hour of rolling around in bed, you resign yourself to getting up.
You stare at your phone as you stir your coffee fifteen minutes later. According to his schedule, Mingyu has classes until five, so he won’t be calling you anytime soon.
Knowing that doesn’t make you any less frustrated at the stubbornly black screen, uninterrupted by calls or texts.
You’re such a mess of nerves. Maybe this is why Jiwoo keeps staring at her phone whenever she thinks you won’t notice. You have always been slightly annoyed by it, telling her to just call Jihoon if she missed him so badly, but now you understand when she had retorted back, “It doesn’t work like that.”
Before, you had rolled your eyes and smirked at her, saying, “I’m pretty sure that’s how a cell phone works, Jiwoo.”
But that was before. Before you met Kim Mingyu, before you had listened to him talk all day, before you realized you could stare at him all day and never get tired of the sight of him.
Frustrated at yourself and how you had become so needy in just one day, you toss your phone onto the couch in the living room and head back into your room, determined to do anything but think about Kim Mingyu for the next hour until you head to class.
You grab the book that you’ve been reading and open up to where you had left off. Reading has always been an escape, a way to leave all your worries behind and ignore who you are for the moment. It works; you’re lost in a world of rebels and magic until you casually look up at the clock—fifteen minutes to ten.
“Fuck,” you grumble, rushing to change into the first clean clothes you can grab—dark blue jeans and a plain maroon tee. How is it that you almost always manage to be late?
You shove your books into your backpack and run out of the apartment, stopping only to grab your keys and lock the door. You’re honestly surprised that you haven’t gotten pulled over for speeding yet, seeing how you’re always rushing to get to school on time. Knock on wood.
It isn’t until you’re sitting at the back of the lecture hall, trying to catch your breath as the professor walks in that you realize you have forgotten your phone at home. You groan, rubbing at your forehead. Well, you’ll live. It’s not like you need your phone to survive. You’re actually able to focus in class today, without having to worry about texts from a certain tall, black-haired boy. You leave class feeling much calmer. You have two hours until your next class, so you buy a sandwich from one of the school’s food chains. Overpriced and not the best tasting, admittedly, but you’re hungry and too lazy to walk off campus for food.
You eat quickly; sitting alone among groups of friends is never fun, especially when all of your own friends are either in class, at home, or working right now. Mingyu must be all the way across campus, you muse, considering how you can’t smell him at all.
You walk out to the Quad, intending to find a shady spot to sit in and read. The weather today is perfect; it’s sunny and warm, with a slight breeze. You’re honestly surprised that not many people are out here, enjoying the weather. You sigh contentedly as you find an empty spot and make yourself comfortable in the grass as you pull out the novel you had stuffed in your backpack this morning. You’re so engrossed in the story that you don’t notice that someone joining you until you hear a male voice ask, “What are you reading?”
Just as you turn to face him, a hand covers your eyes and another pins both of your arms behind your back. “Get up,” he snarls into your ear as someone binds your hands together.
You comply, trying to figure out where he’s standing by stumbling as you get up. You realize he’s almost directly behind you, you realize. So the moment you find your balance, you stomp as hard as you can on what you can only hope is his foot.
He curses and lets go of you. Momentarily blinded by the light and the fact that you can now see, you pause for a fraction of a second before you run. It costs you, though, because you feel someone pulling at your hair and all that runs through your mind is the sheer pain from the force of the person yanking on your hair.
He keeps pulling, forcing you to walk back with him, until he faces you against the tree and shoves you toward it. You cry out from the impact because god damn, trees are solid and that hurt like hell, but the stranger pays no attention as his elbow digs into your back, keeping you pinned to the tree. He slips a blindfold over your eyes, though how he manages to do it with one hand even as you struggle as hard as you can boggles you.
“Alright, let’s go,” he says, and you stiffen. Go where? Who is he? What does he want?
Too late, your mind fills with regrets. I should have done track and field. If only I were a fast runner, I could probably try to break away—or maybe martial arts. Yeah, that sounds better. If I knew martial arts I could kick their asses and get away—
“Get her things,” he shouts at someone. So there are two people, at the very least. How are you supposed to get away now? And dammit, you don’t even have your phone on you—
“I’m your partner, Jeonghan. Not your slave,” the second guy whines.
The one holding on to you—Jeonghan—shoves you forward mercilessly. “So you say, Seungkwan. Maybe if you were more competent I would respect you enough to treat you like an equal. But you’re not.”
You can hear Seungkwan’s grumbling from afar, and Jeonghan pushes you again. “What do you want?” you try asking him.
“It’s too complicated to try and explain to you,” he says much too cheerfully for your liking. “All you need to know is that if we don’t get what we want by tomorrow, you’re going bye-bye.”
“Try to explain, then. Don’t you think it’s rude to just take me and tell me I’m going to die without telling me why?” You don’t know where this nerve is coming from, but you’re glad you’re still able to think properly. Between now and wherever he’s trying to take you, you need to get away.
“Demanding, aren’t we? I wonder if that’s why Kim Mingyu likes you.”
Mingyu? What does he have to do with anything? Your stomach drops, and you’re not so sure you want to know. Nevertheless, you try to figure out where Jeonghan is, based on his voice and where he’s pushing you from. You guess he’s somewhere on your right, behind you, and you get ready to kick him when he grabs your hair again, yanking savagely.
“We will have none of that, missy.” He pulls you to a stop. “Now bend your head. We’re getting in the car.”
Car? No. You need to leave now. You kick back, hoping it lands on him, preferably between his legs—but whatever works. You feel your foot hit something solid, and Jeonghan grunts in pain. And you run, adrenaline pumping through your body, ignoring the pain of getting hair ripped out.
You count the seconds, one two three four five six seven, putting one foot in front of the other and running blindly as you pray to any and all gods above to let you get away.
But maybe you’ve sinned too much, or are impure, or something because at ten someone tackles you to the ground and you feel a million scrapes as you hit the sidewalk. You’re surprised you haven’t broken your neck and died as the person on top of you swears. Seungkwan, then. “You little bitch, my life is hard enough without having to run around—”
“Then you could just let me go and you won’t have to worry about running around chasing me—”
“Shut up!” he snarls, and drags you up by your hair. “Just shut up and follow me and get in the car. It’ll make life easier for everyone—for you, for me, for that dick Jeonghan—though he deserves to experience living hell—and even for that bastard Kim Mingyu.” He sighs, pushing you forward, but not as forcefully as Jeonghan. “It’s not like I want to do this,” he mumbles. “Mingyu’s a decent person. When he wants to be.”
“I don’t get it,” you tell him. “What does this have to do with Mingyu?”
Seungkwan laughs humorlessly. “Oh, you poor thing. What have you gotten yourself into?” he sighs. “My advice would be to ditch that guy the moment you get out of this.”
“But what—”
You stop as you hear Jeonghan’s angry voice. “You little—” There’s a sting against your left cheek, an impact that forces your head to the side.
Jeonghan has just slapped you. Hard.
“Get. In. The car,” he snarls, shoving your head down and pushing you into a waiting car. Your legs hang out of the door, but he shoves them so hard your knees automatically bend. The door slams closed against your feet.
You know better than to ask questions with Jeonghan around, especially when he’s this pissed. But Seungkwan seems more sympathetic of the two, especially by himself, so you promise yourself to try to get him alone and confront him about what the hell is going on, or even better, guilt him into helping you if you can.
You try to memorize all the left and right turns they make, but after a while your head starts spinning and you lose focus. After what seems like an hour later, the car finally stops and you hear the two front car doors open. You feel someone trying to help you sit up, and seeing how gentle the movements are, you guess it’s Seungkwan. You let him tug you out of the car and close the door before following him to…somewhere.
You feel a draft of cool air, and you shiver. You must be in some kind of building now, but how you’re ever going to find your way out, you have no idea. Left, left, right, left. You try to memorize all the turns. But then you’re in an elevator and you have no way of knowing how many floors it is.
You turn left and walk a few steps before Seungkwan pulls you to a stop. “Get her situated. I’ll let Seungcheol know we have her,” Jeonghan tells Seungkwan.
You hear him stalk off, and Seungkwan waits a few moments before turning you left. You hear the sound of a door opening and he puts a hand against your back, indicating that you should walk forward. “You can stop,” he says, and you hear the sound of the door closing.
Seungkwan unties your hands and tugs off the blindfold. You blink, taking in your surroundings. It’s a large room, dark brown wooden walls with soft red carpet and a giant bed in the corner of the room. There’s a huge window, too, and you walk over to look outside. There’s nothing but grass around for miles, and as you look down, you realize that you’re much too high up…
“You can’t jump out that window,” Seungkwan says. You flinch; you didn’t notice him come beside you. “Not unless you want to die. And that’s if you can even open the window. As far as I know, it’s glued shut.”
“Why are you telling me all this?” you ask him, genuinely puzzled.
He runs a hand through his burgundy hair, looking troubled. “Like I said, Mingyu isn’t a terrible person. And you…you haven’t done anything. You don’t even know anything. It feels…wrong to be doing this to an innocent.”
“Doing what?” you press. But when it’s clear he won’t answer, you gesture to the room. “I thought I was going to be locked up. Tied to a chair, or something. What is all this?”
“Seungcheol likes to brag that he ‘has class.’” Seungkwan eyes the bed. “And I wouldn’t…sleep on that, if I were you.”
“What? Why?”
“Just don’t.”
You decide not to question him. “Okay, but…” You lower your voice. “Can you at least tell me why I’m here? Don’t you think I deserve to know?”
Seungkwan sighs and plops into the armchair near the window, rubbing at his face. “You know Kim Mingyu.” He doesn’t say it like a question.
“Yes.”
Seungkwan looks at you with what seems like pity in his eyes. “You’re better off not getting involved with him.”
You throw up your hands in frustration. “I’m not ‘involved’ with him. I’ve met him twice. All within the span of the past two days.”
“I don’t know, but it sure looked like you were more than just acquaintances.”
You feel a blush creep up into your cheeks and you look away from Seungkwan. “I’m not seeing how all this relates to Mingyu.”
“It’s kind of a long story. Mingyu used to be one of us, but then he started going on about how he was tired of this kind of life and wanted to quit. The thing is, you don’t just ‘quit.’ So he managed to convince another one of us, Wonwoo, to join him and one day they just left. Started their own organization too, probably hoping to rival us. Seungcheol, our leader, didn’t take it too kindly.”
“So he thinks he can use me as leverage against Mingyu?” you ask incredulously.
“Can and will.”
“But what does he want?”
“I can’t tell you that.”
“Again, why are you telling me all this?”
Seungkwan looks down at his hands. “Honestly…I want out. I wanted to go with Mingyu and Wonwoo, but…I was too scared. So I stayed. And now I don’t know if I’ll ever get out.”
You take a moment to absorb the information until it hits you. “Wonwoo?” you repeat. “Jeon Wonwoo?”
“You know him?” Seungkwan asks, eyes narrowed.
“I’ve…run into him a few times,” you answer. Not completely a lie, but you have a hard time imagining sweet, caring Wonwoo as a part of all this. You lean your back against the window, looking around the room. “What exactly is it that you do that makes you want to stop so badly? What is this…organization?”
It takes a while for him to answer. “Everything you would consider, wrong, corrupt, evil…we do it. All things shady, all the dirty work…we do it, at a price. A very high price, which is why we’re usually only involved with corrupted people.”
You’re not sure how to react to that. You’re shocked, but…somehow it just confirms what you’ve been suspecting. There’s more to Mingyu than what meets the eye.
“Kind of gives you an idea of the scale of trouble you’re in, doesn’t it? I’ve seen cold-blooded murder up close more times than I can count.” Seungkwan sighs and leans back against the chair, closing his eyes. “By the way, there’s a bathroom connected to this room. Spare clothes in the giant closet there.” He cracks open his eyes and points with his chin at a set of wooden double doors across from the bed. “Seungcheol makes sure to wash them every so often so they should be pretty clean. Though they are one-size-fits-all, so…probably big on you.”
The entire situation is so absurd that you break out laughing—hysterical, uncontrollable laughter. “You’re telling me,” you say between laughs, “that the boss of a murdering gang keeps clothes fresh and clean for his victims and provides them with a suite room and toiletries.”
Seungkwan cracks a smile. “Well. I never claimed he made any sense.”
You walk to the closet to inspect the clothes: all giant gray hoodies and gray sweats. You pull out a hoodie and sniff at it cautiously. Seungkwan was right; it smells like normal detergent and is even soft. “But why?” you whisper.
“Despite everything, I think Seungcheol realizes that you didn’t do anything wrong besides meeting Mingyu. He’s not terrible at heart, either—I think too many years in this business has made him harder and colder than he really is.” Seungkwan moves to stand behind you. “The bathroom’s over there,” he says, pointing at a door so camouflaged with the wall that if not for him, you wouldn’t have realized it was there at all. “I recommend covering up, though. Seungcheol has cameras installed in there.”
“Then what’s the point of telling me there’s a bathroom?” you ask, rolling your eyes. Despite yourself, and despite your situation, you’re developing a soft spot for Seungkwan.
He laughs, strolling over to the door. “Just in case you can figure out how to shower with the shower curtain wrapped around you.” He opens the door and walks out, before sticking his head back in. “Oh, and while you can do whatever you want in the room, you can’t walk out here. The moment anyone spots you outside of this room, you’re no longer going to be treated like a guest.”
And with that, Seungkwan closes the door with a soft click.
You sigh. It’s not as if you feel much like a guest right now, being kidnapped and thrown and dragged around like a rag doll. But it could be worse. Much worse, you remind yourself as you walk into the bathroom. You find some towels that look clean and smell clean, so you wet them and walk outside to the room. You pray that no one opens the door before taking off your jeans to try to inspect your injuries from earlier.
There’s a huge gash on both legs from mid-thigh to your knee, and several cuts elsewhere. You use the towel to clean yourself up as best as you can, hissing whenever the water stings the wounds. When you’re done, you pull your jeans back on and head to the bathroom to rinse off the towel and repeat the process for the upper half of your body. There are mostly only small scrapes, except the ones on your forearms, and you wince as you feel the sting.
Once you’re fairly convinced that you’ve cleaned yourself up the best that you can, you throw the towel into the sink and feel a draft of cold air, but you can’t for the life of you find any air vents. Shrugging, you slip on one of the gray hoodies. As Seungkwan had predicted, it’s huge on you—sleeves reaching far past your hands and the sweater itself ending at mid-thigh. It’s soft, though, and warm, and it smells nice, so you settle on the chair Seungkwan had sat on.
Surprisingly, despite your fear and the anxiety as you think about the day’s events, you find yourself drifting off. The slam of the door wakes you right up, though, and you sit straight up as you study the figure walking toward you. Tall, black hair, and dressed in black jeans and a white button-down—you almost mistake him for Mingyu but you realize that Mingyu is taller, and has beautiful golden skin whereas this man is pale. And what’s more, you can’t smell him. So not Mingyu.
“You look comfortable enough,” he says as he stops in front of you.
You look up at him, directly in the eyes. “Who are you?” you ask.
He laughs, crossing his arms. “Choi Seungcheol, pleasure to meet you.”
“Unfortunately, I can’t say the same to you.”
“Ohh, I like your spunk,” Seungcheol says, smirking and leaning against the wall. “Tell me, is that how you got Mingyu to fall for you?”
You roll your eyes, tired of hearing the same thing all day. And something tells you that you shouldn’t tell any of them the truth. “Look, I’ve said this to everyone else, and I’ll tell you the same thing. I met him two days ago. I don’t know where you’re getting the idea that I mean anything to him—”
“Kim Mingyu isn’t the type to take just anyone around with him all day,” Seungcheol hisses, suddenly right in front of your face.
How would he know? Had someone followed you all day yesterday? “What do you even want from him?” you ask. Seungcheol hadn’t appeared scary before, with his smile and tone of voice, but now you can see how he is the leader of this ruthless organization. He appears friendly; that’s the trap. But you can see that he’s calculating and won’t hesitate to do whatever it takes to get what he wants.
“I want him to get rid of his business,” Seungcheol replies, inspecting his nails and leaning against the wall again. “He was my right-hand man. And much as I hate to admit it, he did a damn good job. The guys here are good, too, but Mingyu…he was always in a class of his own.”
“Obviously there must have been a reason for him to leave.”
You realize your mistake when Seungcheol narrows his eyes at you. “Cute. Sticking up for your boyfriend now, are you?”
You try to backtrack. “He’s not my—”
“Sure he’s not. We’ll see about that tomorrow. I already told him I have you. He should be stopping by in the morning—I told him noon, at the latest. And if he’s a no-show…” Seungcheol draws his thumb against his neck in a straight line, smirking down at you. “Sorry, honey, no hard feelings, but you’re gone.”
No hard feelings. Right. “What are you going to do to him?”
Seungcheol rolls his eyes. “’He’s not my boyfriend,’” he mocks. “But look at you, worried sick about him.”
You take a deep breath, preparing yourself to lie through your teeth. You only hope it comes across as sincere. “I don’t think he’s going to give up his business, whatever it is, just because of me.”
Seungcheol raises an eyebrow, obviously not believing you, but you continue on. “He’s not my boyfriend. That’s the truth.” Not yet, anyway. “I just like him. A lot. And I finally got the courage to approach him yesterday, and I swear to God, if that’s what all this is about—look, I don’t understand what’s going on, but if you’re kidnapping me because I finally somehow convinced Kim Mingyu to go get lunch with me, I don’t think you’re going to have much luck. That guy runs through girls like crazy.” Tears fill your eyes, and you hope it seems like you’re the self-absorbed girl you’re trying to paint yourself as, crying over the unfairness of your situation. But you can’t help but worry about how this very well might destroy Mingyu, especially after hearing Seungkwan’s story. You don’t know how this works, but if this is anything like a gang, then based on stories and movies, you don’t just leave a gang.
“Tough luck,” Seungcheol says, devoid of sympathy. “I’m not interested in his love life. Or yours, surprising, I know. I’m not going to do anything to him. We’ll just have a nice chat. And if he cooperates, everyone’s happy.”
“And if he doesn’t?”
He gives you a hard look. “He will.”
-
There’s a quick knock on your door a while after Seungcheol leaves. You’re too numb to even look up to see who it is, but Seungkwan says, “Hey. Dinner time.” He sets a tray of food on the small table in the corner of the room.
“No thanks.”
“It’s not poisoned, I swear. Look,” he says, opening up one of the plates to reveal bread. He tears off a piece and pops it in his mouth, chewing.
It’s only when he looks at you for a while that he notices your expression. Seungkwan sighs and comes to kneel in front of you. “Look,” he whispers urgently. “It’s going to be fine. Actually, I’m supposed to help Mingyu sneak in here tonight.” He looks at his watch. “In half an hour, to be exact. So eat up, wipe off all those tears, and get ready.”
“You—” you start, but Seungkwan hushes you.
“Shhh!” He looks around, bewildered. “Eat. I’ll see you later.” Seungkwan gets up and crosses the room, looking back one last time and mouthing the words “good luck” before leaving and closing the door softly behind him.
You pad over to the table where Seungkwan had put the food—it’s tomato soup and a plate of bread. It’s not your favorite thing to eat, but it’s still food, and your heart goes out to Seungkwan for trying his best to be nice to you even in this godforsaken place.
When you finish, you wait impatiently. Seungkwan had said half an hour, but it feels as though an hour has already passed. When what feels like another hour has passed, your mind starts wandering. What happened? Did they get caught?
You open your eyes to see sunlight streaming in. You don’t even remember having fallen asleep, but based on how much your neck and back are cramping, you must have been asleep for hours. Just as you stand up and stretch, Jeonghan walks in without knocking, with a smirk on his face.
You lower your arms and glare at him. Seeming unaffected, he approaches you, grin growing all the wider. “What do you—” You cry out as he pounces on you without any warning, pressing you against the chair and crushing your face against the rough surface. He ties your hands together so tightly behind your back it hurts to even try to move them. You try to kick at him, but you’re in such an awkward position that there’s no force behind your attempted kicks. Jeonghan blindfolds you easily, and pulls you up off the chair using the rope. “This is much better than yesterday,” he purrs in your ear, and you fight the urge to shiver.
“You son of a bitch,” you breathe as he shoves you forward roughly.
He kicks at the back of your knees harshly and you fall forward, but he grabs you by the hood of your sweater, almost choking you. “Keep insulting me,” Jeonghan taunts.
“That’s enough,” Seungcheol’s voice rings out from a distance. Are you in a hallway? “Just get her down there.”
Down where? But Jeonghan just grunts and drags you down the hallway, and it’s all you can do to keep from screaming at him to stop. He pulls you by the rope on your hands, and it seems to be getting tighter and tighter as he does. You feel your hands numbing, and you start praying to every god above to give you strength as unwanted tears stream down your cheeks.
Jeonghan pulls you into the elevator and you’re grateful for the temporary relief from pain as you hear the whirring and the feeling of being lifted up as the elevator goes down. Then the doors open and he’s dragging you again. You lose track of time and directions until he stops and shoves you roughly into a hard, cold chair. He keeps one hand holding on to your hair as a warning and you feel him wrap a rope around you, presumably tying you to the chair.
He releases you as he finishes. “Now the fun begins,” he says, chuckling, and you begin to ask him what kind of fun when you feel a giant bundle of cloth being shoved into your mouth.
You try to protest, to scream, but the cloth stops you from speaking, and after a while, your voice is hoarse. “Wonderful,” Jeonghan comments, petting your head, stroking your hair, and you try to yank your head away from his hand. But the rope is too tight, and you can’t move, so you’re left fuming as Jeonghan laughs his sadistic laugh.
“Jeonghan,” a voice snaps. Seungcheol. Jeonghan drops his hand. “I told you to bring her here because she’s our bargaining chip. Not a toy.”
“Oh, but that’s no fun,” Jeonghan replies, tone bordering on a whine.
“I don’t care if it’s no fun,” Seungcheol replies, voice tight with exasperation. “Don’t touch her unless I tell you to.”
You hear the sound of the door opening and closing. Seungkwan’s voice comes from the other end of the room—if it’s a room. All you can tell is that he seems far away. “So what now?”
“Now we wait,” Seungcheol replies, and you hear a slight whooshing sound from behind you, like someone sitting on a couch.
“You think he’ll actually listen?” Jeonghan asks. “According to her, there isn’t even any obligation for him to.”
“Why, because they’re not dating?” Seungcheol answers.
“Yeah.”
Seungcheol chuckles. “You don’t know Mingyu very well then, do you? He’s always been soft. Too soft, in my opinion. Even if they’re not together, he’s not the type to let an innocent get hurt in the crossfire. Isn’t that right, Seungkwan?”
Seungkwan remains silent.
“There’s half an hour left,” Jeonghan pipes up after a long silence. “You really think he’ll show?”
“Well, why don’t we give him a call?” Seungcheol says. “Seungkwan?”
You hear some rustling, most likely Seungkwan taking out his phone. And then you hear the dialing tone and you wait breathlessly.
The dialing tone ends. Silence.
Your heart sinks at the silence, and you assume that Mingyu hasn’t answered. But then: “What do you want?”
“Where are you?” Seungkwan asks in a low voice, and Seungcheol chuckles behind you.
“I don’t see how that concerns you,” Mingyu replies, and you hear the dark humor in his voice.
You half-hope he doesn’t come.
But you’re not sure you want to die.
“So you’re saying you’re actually going to let this girl die,” Seungcheol cuts in. You hadn’t heard him cross the room, but he must have, because his voice now seems farther away.
“It’s ridiculous that you think I’m going to dig my own grave for some girl,” Mingyu sneers, and for some reason, even though you partially wanted him to say this, it stings.
“So you’re not coming.”
“No.”
“Then you’re going to have to live with the consequences of your decision,” Seungcheol says, and hangs up, but you can tell he had not been expecting this.
“Take her blindfold off,” Seungcheol barks at someone, and someone unties it. You blink, letting your eyes adjust to the light to see Seungcheol standing in front of you, frowning.
“I didn’t want to do this,” he continues, reaching down to unbuckle his belt and your eyes widen with fright. He ignores you, snapping the belt against the cement floor with a crack. “Call him again,” Seungcheol orders Seungkwan, stretching his arms, the belt swinging around like a black snake.
Crack.
Seungcheol walks slowly towards you as the dial tone goes on and on.
Crack.
Step.
Mingyu isn’t picking up.
Crack.
You’re going to die here, you can feel it. You look around and see Jeonghan’s amused smirk. You beg Seungcheol with your eyes not to do it. Seungkwan refuses to even look at you as he stares at the phone in his hand.
Crack.
“What do you want now?” Mingyu’s exasperated voice seems to echo across the room.
And a line of pain bursts across your body, from your left shoulder to your right hip, a path of pure fire running across your body, burning you.
You do the only thing you can do.
You scream.