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Billionaire Mark Cuban Opens Online Pharmacy To Provide Affordable Generic Drugs

The company was launched out of stealth last year.

The fact that Mark Cuban can do this is just further proof of how much capatalism is f*cking people over.

Billionaire investor Mark Cuban launched an online pharmacy Thursday that offers more than 100 generic drugs at an affordable price with a goal of being “radically transparent” in its price negotiations with drug companies. 

For example, the leukemia drug imatinib is priced at $47 a month on MCCPDC compared to the $9,657 retail price.

The online pharmacy’s prices for generics factor in a 15% margin on top of actual manufacturer prices and a $3 pharmacist fee, the statement said. 

[8:46 AM] + apocalypse + ex!san + "i couldn't just stand by and watch."

part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4 part 5 part 6 part 7 part 8 part 9 part 10

a/n: 5.8k words, mentions of abusive situations, things are getting a bit clearer!

-

hongjoong rises to his feet, scarlet red blood dripping down his nose. the red against his skin is stark, too bright. it drips down over his mouth, from his chin, and down his front, staining his white shirt. despite that, despite the crunch you'd heard earlier, hongjoong is unfazed. his gaze drifts lazily over san's shoulder. he meets your gaze, and you freeze in place under his mirthful stare. he raises a brow, his tone clipped, "you've trained him well, y/n."

you get the ridiculous urge to apologize. your gaze flickers up, to san, and san's eyes narrow upon meeting yours.

san whips his head to look at hongjoong once more. he lunges forward. he's fast, but you react faster, wrapping your hand around his and yanking him back into you. he stumbles back into you, and you expect him to shrug you off and keep going. as he used to. but, he doesn't. san just stills in front of you, his body a wall between you and hongjoong. san tilts his torso so that hongjoong cannot look at you, and all you're left with is a view of san's chest moving up and down as he takes a soft, calming breath.

you can hear shuffling from the south gate, no doubt the guards making their way over here. your fingers tighten around san's. before san had gotten here, you witnessed a fistfight break out during lunch. hongjoong only watched on while the guards pulled them apart. then he'd looked at you with a grin filled with teeth and glinting eyes, and he clucked his tongue and shook his head in mock disappointment. that day, you'd learned from hongjoong that the punishment for fights was 'a hand for a hand, a tooth for a tooth, an eye for an eye.'

"what does that even mean?" you'd asked.

"it means if you manage to get two hits in with different hands, or even a kick, well..." hongjoong had just grinned as the guards dragged both men away, "too bad for you."

that night's shipment had the man who hit first with two bloody stumps for hands and tears in his eyes. hongjoong leaned heavily into you, but he did not say a word. you already knew how that happened. that night, you saw the man he hit downing beer after beer, bandages plastered over his face, while everyone around him danced and laughed and smacked him on the back. the sadness in his eyes haunted you, even to this day. even to this moment.

hongjoong's voice cuts through your thoughts, ringing all around you, "the rules are the rules."

you peer at hongjoong over san's shoulder. hongjoong waves a hand, and the guards surround you and san. you recognize some of them. there's mrs. kim who spread word around of you and san meeting up after curfew; the sanctuary's gossip. there's park jihyo, her watchful gaze flickering between the three of you. she always had a bright smile plastered across her face every morning when she'd serve everyone breakfast. you never thought she would be assigned the role of a guard. then again looks are deceiving. you watch mrs. kim observe the scene before her with slight apprehension present in the way her brows furrow as her eyes dart between san and you. the guards, you notice, follow hongjoong's orders a beat too late.

still, they cock their guns with ease. they point them all at san's head.

san's eyes widen, and, for the first time in a while, you see an inkling of fear in his gaze.

your grip tightens, and your thoughts race, and, in a moment of desperation, your brain settles on an outlandish idea. if you can't appeal to the guard's morals, since they've turned the other cheek to seonghwa and hongjoong's actions so often, you can find something else to appeal to. hongjoong's hatred of you was well-known, accepted even. no one ever stepped up for you when hongjoong bothered you. no one even looked your way. sometimes, you think you were given extra food out of pity, but that's the extent of action anyone was willing to partake in. so maybe appealing to that side of them wouldn't work. these people were awfully complacent, compliant, but they're still people. and as you stare at mrs. kim and her furrowed brows, you realize one thing every person loves, no matter their morals, is a good story to tell others. people love gossip. especially in a world where entertainment was few and far between. and what better opportunity do you have than the gossip of the sanctuary? your hands tremble a bit at the thought, but your resolve already hardens, and your heart is racing in fear and desperation.

so you make a move to grip san's hand tight, ignoring the way san rubs soothing circles over the back of your hand with his thumb. he's the one with the guns to his head. he's the one who did something stupid. he's the one who needs soothing, not you.

you speak directly to the guards, ignoring hongjoong's presence entirely, "please don't hurt san. he was only trying to protect me."

hongjoong scoffs loudly, "protect you?"

you point at hongjoong, ignoring his comment as you appeal to the guards, "i only asked hongjoong not to touch me, but he did anyway. so san defended me."

mrs. kim makes a small noise at your statement, peering at hongjoong with a stony expression over her glasses. jihyo's lips press into a thin line, her usual cheerful disposition gone. johnny's expression doesn't necessarily falter, but his eyes slide from san to you to both your intertwined hands.

san glances down too, at you and your hands, his brows furrowed in blatant confusion. you catch his gaze, giving him a look you hope radiates love and worry rather than the play the fuck along you're trying to telepathically scream at him.

san's dark eyes flicker between yours before his dimples make a small appearance. then his expression drops into easy anger, and he whips his head to the side to glare at an annoyed hongjoong. "can you blame me? am i supposed to just stand here and watch while he touches my person?"

san looks at the guards, his gaze heavy. the corner of mrs. kim's lips twitch upwards. you didn't think it'd be that easy to appeal to them, but you don't bother questioning it. san turns to jihyo, "wouldn't you do the same thing if momo was in y/n's position?"

jihyo purses her lips, her gaze falling to the ground.

san's gaze flickers to johnny, "wouldn't you do the same for jaehyun and taeyong? for mark? for any of your other friends?"

johnny looks away, rubbing the back of his neck as he does so.

"enough," hongjoong grunts from behind you both, "take san to the prison."

there's hesitancy in their actions. good. hongjoong narrows his gaze, but before he can repeat his instructions, they're moving. johnny grabs san's sleeve half-heartedly. you tug at san's fingers, and johnny doesn't push you away. he just sighs.

san looks down at you with a tender, dimpled smile, one that even you believe for a moment, "don't worry. i'll be fine, y/n. i'll be okay."

he gently pries your fingers form his, and you watch as he's taken away with barely any hostility or force. in fact, mrs. kim leans close and speaks into his ear. jihyo gives san one of her sunny smiles. johnny just pats san's back. san glances back at you one last time, his gaze flickering over your shoulder before he walks away. not one of the guards leaves their fun pointed at san, and that alleviates a tiny bit of your worry.

the hairs at the back of your neck stand on end as you swivel to look hongjoong in the eyes. his nose is still dripping blood, though it's dried up quite a bit. he glares at you. you try not to recoil under his gaze as you say, "i'll go get those eggs now. you should go see the medic."

then you sidestep him before he can say a single word, slipping into the little barn-slash-shed the sanctuary keeps the hens in. you slide the door shut, but you see hongjoong turning to look at you as you do. through the sliver before you fully shut the shed door, you see hongjoong turn and stalk away. the stuffy shed smells of hay and chicken and manure, but once you've slid the door shut with a dull thud, you crumple to the floor and try to catch your breath, your chest tight, clenched almost. your heart is racing, and you have to gasp for air. you only catch your breath after too many minutes pass. your vision is still blurry, but your breath is slower. you keep your head lodged between your knees as you try every single breathing exercise in existence. the urge to cry is overrun by anger. you can't help but direct it at san. if san loses a hand because of this, because of you, you're going to fucking kill him.

~.~.~.~.~

after breakfast, you grab the bucket you're supposed to fill with water and head straight for the prison near the shipment gate. you leave your bucket on the grass as you make your way into the building. jongho was assigned the overnight shift with the medic, so you doubt he's at the prison. he's likely catching up on sleep right now.

when you step through the door, everything is quiet. you're honestly not sure what you're going to say to the guard to convince him to let you see san. you go over a speech, anxiety rising as you enter the building through the door seonghwa and hongjoong took you through to meet jongho that first night. you never thought you'd be back here. you avoided this place like the plague.

you reach the desk you'd met jongho at, the guard behind it looks up and frowns at you. you don't recognize him, but he seems to recognize you. he looks you up and down, shaking his head as he sighs. then he waves a hand down the hall.

you frown at him.

he explains, "ten minutes. that's it. then i'm coming in after you. is room is down the hall. three rights. second door on the left."

"you're just going to let me in? you're not going to report me?"

the man shrugs, says, "who am i to stop young love?"

you resist the ridiculous urge to snort in his face, merely nodding as you murmur your thanks and follow his directions. the prison is made of metal, each of your steps reverberating all around you. you don't dare to look into the other rooms. occasionally, you hear sobs. occasionally, you hear screams. you block that out, moving quickly, goosebumps running along your skin. the prison is already cool, but as you step through the building, you get colder.

you stand outside the second door on the left, taking a moment to compose yourself. for what? you're not sure. you step into the room, shocked by how bright it is in comparison to the rest of the prison. your gaze falls on san slouched against the brick wall opposite you. he looks so small in the giant empty room, especially with the way he has his knees pulled to his chest against the wall. he's already staring at you, a frown distorting his sharp features. he straightens up, and you hear the chains before you see them. shackles around his ankles, his wrists. but, his hands are still there. despite the reassurance of that, you nearly buckle at the sight, your heart racing once more. seeing him like this makes the possibility of punishment all too real.

the room itself is empty, dust dancing in the sunlight that pours in from the windows above, illuminating everything in a warm yellow-orange haze.

san tilts his head, still frowning, his voice a little raspy, "why are you here?"

"why the hell did you do that?" your voice cuts over the last echoes of his words. you cross your arms over your chest as you step closer. he watches you move closer, his head tilting back to keep your gazes locked.

san's brows scrunch in surprise at your words. you examine his face - you're not sure why, maybe to make sure he isn't hurt in any other way, maybe to understand his motives, maybe to understand him even just a little - and you notice instead that his hair is too overgrown, brushing his eyes, and there are dark circles under his eyes, as if he doesn't get much sleep. he peers at you through the overgrown strands, gaze searching yours the same way you're sure you're doing with him.

there's no malice in his tone when he says, as matter-of-factly as he had when he told hongjoong to keep his hands to himself, "you're scared of him."

it's not what you expected him to say. you expected something mean. you expected him to brush off your question with easy nonchalance. your nails dig into your palms at the softness of his voice. his observation makes you falter despite yourself. you're not scared of hongjoong. at least, you refuse to admit it. you certainly didn't think anyone would notice the way your heart races in fear around hongjoong, or the way you want to cry sometimes when hongjoong bangs open the door to the jail room and rattles your jail cell, cooing for you to wake up, or the way his hands weighed heavily over your shoulders every night as he forced you to listen to him recount why the people in the shipment were punished.

"no," you shake your head, "i'm not."

san smiles, but it's a kind thing. gentle. sad, almost. "i've never seen you act like that before, y/n."

his voice is so so soft, and it settles delicately over the dusty room, settles easily alongside the warmth of the streaming sun. your nails dig further into your palms when he says, "you never even acted that way back when we used to fight all the time. i couldn't just stand by and watch, y/n."

you thought back on those days. you both used to fight often, used to crowd each other's spaces, and shout mean words, and settle into the most vindictive, vile headspaces. you've forgotten a lot of the details over the years, but you knew you never truly felt fear around san. he was a lot of things back then, but he was never scary.

you swallow the lump in your throat, "you should have. stood by and watched, i mean."

this time san narrows his eyes at you, frowning as he opens his mouth to retort.

you cut off his response, tone sharp even to your own ears, "he's going to cut your hand off, san. that's the punishment for this. you're going to lose a fucking hand."

"i might lose a hand. besides, i can handle the consequences."

"i don't fucking get it," your voice grows louder as you scowl down at him. he just sits there, with his knees drawn to his chest, shackles ringing softly between you both, and you find yourself dragging a hand through your hair in frustration. "why would you put yourself in danger like this? why would you do something so fucking stupid?"

for me, sits heavy in the silence, unspoken but still so loud.

"i told you already," san sighs, rubbing his eyes as he leans his head back against the stone wall. he continues you looking at you with his tired eyes, "you were scared."

your palms begin to hurt with how hard you're digging your nails into your palms.

"i can handle myself."

"i know you can. you made that clear a long time ago." san's jaw ticks just a moment. you remember you used to snap that at him, when he'd step in for you and you hated the vulnerability you felt around him. it wasn't fair to either of you, how avoidant you were while he was so attached, and you'd only realized years later that that was something neither of you could help the other with. it was something you both needed to work through on your own. but now, you feel like you're both falling into that same old pattern again. at least you think you are falling into the same patterns. san doesn't get fully angry like he used to.

he just sighs, and says, reasonably, calmly, "but i've spent weeks watching you try to handle hongjoong, y/n, and i can...i see how hard it is. i just - i know you can handle it by yourself, but you don't have to. not while i'm here."

it's overwhelming, the way your heart slams against your ribs at his words. slowly, you sink to the ground across from him. he watches you, and his eyes are so sad, you want the ground to swallow you whole so you don't have to wither beneath the nagging feeling that he pities you. he's watched how hongjoong's treated you, and he knows it scares you, but he's made it clear he doesn't care about you. yet the way he looks at you makes you feel like he does. that's the awful part about all this.

"and when you end up on a shipment?" you wrap your arms around your knees, "then what?"

he shakes his head, "i promised i'd get you out of here. i'm not leaving until i do."

he sounds so sure about the fact.

"you're starting to sound an awful lot like you care, san."

san lets out a soft, staggering breath. the hesitancy weighs on your shoulders. he breathes, "i know."

you clutch your knees tight. "that's it?"

san lets his knees fall to the ground, sitting cross-legged right in front of you. he observes you for so long, you resist the urge to squirm. his face is soft, and sincere, and it is a familiar expression you haven't seen in a long, long, long time. it tugs at your heartstrings. "would you even care if i cared?"

your fingers still. you look up at him. he raises a brow, waiting.

you would. you would, but he is a stranger, different, and you're the same, and you don't know if you can process everything you feel and don't feel towards choi san when you're in a situation like this. you don't even know if he truly cares about you, or if he feels some type of obligation towards you. does he pity you enough to act like he cares? there are so many responses hurling to the tip of your tongue, but you can't seem to open your mouth. you can only look at him.

the silence is so loud, your heartbeat pounding against your ears.

his dimpled smile curls around your heart in a vice-like grip.

he says, with a wave of his hands and a rattle of shackles, "well, either way we're going to have to pretend we care."

you blink at the change in tone, "what?"

"your little acting moment back there, with mrs. kim, jihyo, and johnny? word's spread quickly."

"yeah," you take a breath to settle your racing heart, almost grateful for the change in subject, "i didn't even have to convince the guard to let me in."

"please tell me you have a plan to finish whatever you just started."

"i don't know," you shake your head, ignoring his grimace, "i just thought that if the compound believed we're desperately in love and you punched hongjoong out of chivalry and the desperate need to protect my honor or whatever, you wouldn't be punished as badly."

"protect your honor?" san snorts loudly at that.

"like the dramas," you say, with a small smile.

san laughs, dragging a hand over his face, "still, y/n. that's a pretty big fucking if."

"look, i didn't have time to think about it. i had to move fast. you punched him out of fucking nowhere."

"the asshole deserved it."

you certainly cannot help the smile then, chuckling as you nod, "yeah, he did."

san grins at you, all dimples and amusement, "i'd do it again, you know. been wanting to punch that guy since day one."

you roll your eyes, averting your gaze from his smile, you say, "how about you tell me if you have a plan? you sound pretty confident about handling this, san. you don't even look that worried."

san purses his lips, says, "i've been talking to seonghwa a lot."

you think back on all the shipment nights and how san and seonghwa would laugh together while you sipped on a drink in the corner and waited for the chance to slip away. "i noticed."

san snorts at your tone, "i can convince him i was just being overprotective. he'll understand."

"you're going to rely on that?" you frown at that, "seonghwa only understands what serves him, san."

"exactly. seonghwa understands that he needs his guards to like him while they serve him." san's face darkens as he speaks. he adds, "and you've already gotten them on your side. i'm sure he's noticed."

you smile at that, "mrs. kim looked pretty pissed, didn't she?"

"mrs. kim volunteered her abusive husband as a shipment. well, technical she shot him in the foot and dragged him to seonghwa, but that's not important," san waves a hand, a small smile still on his lips, "she doesn't like abuse."

at first you're surprised at the revelation. you knew everyone here must have been through something horrible, because in a world like this, you doubt anyone has survived unscathed by trauma. but you didn't know specifics. clearly, san hasn't just been speaking to jongho and seonghwa. he's been talking to everyone. he knew momo was important to jihyo. he knew the important people in johnny's life. you're curious why he's bothering to get to know so many people here.

"no, she just doesn't like abuse when it's happening in front of her and she can't ignore it," you mumble, rolling your eyes. you didn't know mrs. kim had such a past, but she's averted her eyes plenty of times when you were at a shipment and hongjoong had his arm around you for you to find yourself getting angry at the thought of it. it's worse somehow, knowing she'd mind her business when she should have sympathized with you to some degree. but she turned the other cheek, as jongho said the people here always do.

san's smile slips from his face, his eyes flickering between yours before they slip to your chin, your neck, your fading bruises, where sometimes you can still feel the ghost touch of hongjoong's fingers and the pain and paralyzing fear it brought. he says, "you mean the way hongjoong treats you. has he...?"

"no," you shake your head, averting your eyes, "he's just annoying most of the time. aside from the library, it's never that serious."

"it looked pretty serious to me this morning."

"seriously san. what the hell do you want from me?" you snap, fed up by his concern because it's pity, it's just fucking pity, and you don't like that. "do you want me to admit to you that hongjoong scares the shit out of me? do you want me to admit that i live in fear that he's going to get bored and kill me one day?"

san shakes his head. you don't mention how that was an admission in itself. san doesn't mention it either. but the two of you look at each other as if you're very much aware of the fact.

you change the subject, overwhelmed by the loudness of the silence, instead straightening up to glare at him, "stop asking about me and worry about yourself. if you get your hand cut off, i'm going to fucking kill you."

your voice isn't any louder than a whisper, but it draws the smallest of smiles out of san. he shakes his head, hair falling into his eyes. he says, "i won't."

"you'd better not. and don't punch anyone on my behalf ever again."

san tilts his head, "i can't -"

"no," you scoot closer, jabbing a finger at him, "you can."

san glances at your finger, inches from his nose, before he looks at you, tilting his head slightly. his lip twitches, as if he's fighting a smile, but he nods, expression solemn. "fine."

you get to your feet, ignoring the way guilt swirls in your stomach as you look at the chains latching him to the wall. ten minutes have long passed, so you say, "good."

when you reach the door, san calls to you. you pause, looking over your shoulder.

"can you let the boys know what's going on?"

that feeling, the one where you want to scream, trickles down your spine, but you nod briskly at his request.

"thank you," san says.

"just get some rest," you tell him, "and stay out of trouble."

"yes, will do.” san says, speech so formal it makes you glare over your shoulder at him. he mock-salutes you for good measure. you shut the door while he's snickering at your reaction.

~.~.~.~.~

lunch is a shitshow. you get pitying looks from too many people. someone has the audacity to come up to you and hand you his apple, patting your back as he says, "stay strong, y/n."

you hadn't realized the impact you'd managed to have, but it's interesting. when you meet hongjoong's gaze from across the dining area, the way his eyes are narrowed, and judging from the fact that he doesn't make his way over to you, you realize that you've won something. you're unsure exactly what that could be, but you've swayed the right people, and hongjoong isn't bothering you because of it.

jongho slips into the bench next to you, immediately turning to face you. he slides his notebook over, what the hell happened?

you frown at him, "san punched hongjoong."

i gathered that much.

"that's about it."

jongho gives you a look of disbelief that could make anyone feel like a total idiot.

however, he writes, i'll make sure nothing happens to san in the prison.

you frown, "why would you do that? won't you get in trouble?"

i'm in charge of the punishments, y/n.

you'd never...connected that. you didn't think jongho had such power. the thought makes you feel a bit queasy, but you try not to show it. you nod. jongho gives you a sad smile, pats your arm lightly and turns to his food. suddenly, you're not hungry.

~.~.~.~.~

long after curfew, you're unlocking san's door with the key he'd given you weeks ago.

("they give us all two keys to our rooms. i'm giving you this in case you need a quiet place to nap or just some privacy and i'm busy," san said then with a shrug, while folding his pile of t-shirts carefully. you remembered feeling frustrated that everyone got keys to their rooms and you didn't get that kind of privacy.

"oh, uh thanks," you'd responded.

san only waved a hand in dismissal and pointed at your pile of folded laundry, "none of those are folded the same. have you never folded jeans before?")

you step into the cold room, shutting the door behind you and locking it. every night, san would pull the radio out from between the mattresses, so you look there first.

you find it quickly, and as you settle into san's bed, the chill of his room gets to you. you look at the wooden chair you usually occupy, and then you glance around the room. there's nothing particularly personal about the room, aside from the sweatshirt strewn next to san's pillows - you'd asked about it once, awkwardly trying to start conversation one night, and he mentioned it was yeosang's - but the room feels like it's missing something without san's presence. it feels bigger and emptier than ever. colder even. you scoot until your back hits the wall, and you click the button.

"hello?"

"y/n?" yeosang answers. he's always the first to answer. the few times it wasn't him, it was wooyoung.

you don't know what to say.

the radio crackles once more, and yeosang's tone is sharp, alert. almost like he knows, just from the silence. it makes sense. san isn't following up your hello with a cheery (sometimes whiny) greeting of his own.

"what's going on? where the fuck is san?" another crackle, unrecognizable voices in the background. "y/n, answer me."

you draw your knees to your chest, and feel so very small sitting in san's empty room, in his empty bed, talking to someone whose heart appears so full of san, who san thought of immediately, even when he was chained to a wall awaiting his fate.

"san got into a fight with hongjoong," you say, and you keep your finger on the talk button so you can't be interrupted as you explain, "he's in prison right now, awaiting punishment. he punched hongjoong, so that means he's going to get his hand cut off. but san thinks he won't. i'm sorry."

why you're apologizing to yeosang, you're unsure. maybe it's because you recognize how deeply san cares about his friends, and you're sure that runs both ways. you'd be angry, you think, if it didn't. san used to have a lot of love to give, and that hasn't seemed to change. you just hope he's found people who gives him the love back the way he needs and wants it. you let go of the talk button. the impending silence stretches on and on and on. until -

"what was the fight about?"

you frown. why does he care about that?

still, you say, "he - hongjoong was bothering me."

the silence is so long.

"i told him it was stupid," you add, quickly. why do you suddenly feel the need to justify yourself to his friends? maybe it's because you're the ex, and these are the people he loves most in the world now.

yeosang says, "that fucking idiot. i didn't think he meant he'd lose all common sense."

"what do you think collateral means, yeosang?" wooyoung's voice is quieter, more distant, but it surprises you. you'd forgotten wooyoung, yunho, and mingi are likely listening.

"he fucking promised he wouldn't die," yeosang's voice is sharp, angry, and clearly directed at wooyoung. "i told him to stop keeping promises he couldn't fucking keep. that fucking asshole.

you hold your breath. wooyoung responds, voice soft, "i told you not to listen to his promises."

"yeah, whatever." yeosang sounds breathless. "what-fucking-ever."

you can't even respond, because yeosang is likely gripping the radio, likely pressing the talk button by accident.

your heart races in your chest, at the conversation, at the emotions in yeosang's voice, the anger mixed with horror mixed with something else, something tinged with the same kind of desperation you'd felt when san had guns pointed to his head. it's the same.

the crackling stops.

you put the radio to your mouth, and you whisper, "you love san a lot, don't you?"

you look at yeosang's sweatshirt strewn haphazardly over san's pillow. platonic love is just as deep, just as desperate as any other form of love. you knew this. but the sweatshirt screams something else. wooyoung's sweatshirt isn't here. yunho's isn't here. mingi's isn't here.

promises, rings in your head.

maybe, at another time, you'd ask if yeosang was in love with san. but now, you do not care much for linguistics. it's the same thing, isn't it? to love and to be in love.

it surprises you when yeosang answers. it isn't wooyoung or yunho. just yeosang.

"yes," he says, "i do."

you note that yeosang doesn't say we.

"then i'll find a way to get san back to you safely. to all of you. all limbs in tact."

you don't mention jongho, as san asked, but you think getting jongho out of here and having him stay with them would be good. he already knows mingi. you think he'd mesh well with everyone else, and they all seem to have a lot of love to give when they care about someone. jongho deserves that, at the very least.

"y/n." yeosang groans, as if you've just said something awful, "don't do anything stupid."

"why?" you ask, "are you planning on doing something stupid?"

silence.

"if you have a plan i'm not supposed to know about, now is the time to let me in on it."

another pause.

you say, "yeosang."

yunho is the one to speak this time, and you can hear hurried whispers that he speaks over, coupled with indignant shouts of his name. yunho says, "seonghwa offered san a guard position. the plan involves that he takes seonghwa up on it. i don't know what's going to happen now, but that was a part of the original plan."

you stare at the radio. san had mentioned he was speaking to seonghwa.

"yunho, are you fucking serious?" wooyoung snaps.

yunho says, "it doesn't make sense to keep them in the dark anymore. san went off plan. so will we."

"so san lied to me." you say it out loud, and you hate how it hurts a bit more than you thought it would.

"we did, too," yunho points out.

"yeah, but i don't know you."

"you don't know san either," wooyoung speaks up.

you laugh, humorlessly, "i've noticed."

another pause.

then yeosang says, "san was the one who decided he'd come in after you, y/n. if it's any consolation, he's refused on any plan that doesn't involve getting you out first."

your fingers curl into fists at your lap, and you hate that tears fill your eyes, that your emotions are finally crumbling in the presence of a group men you don't really know. but the way yeosang talks is different from his usual rough, angry demeanor. even through the static of the radio, you can hear the understanding there. the sympathy.

"why would you let him do that?"

"you don't know us," yeosang says, tone strange, "but we know you. we've known you a long long time. through san's stories."

you blink back your tears and the sob resting at the tip of your tongue. you say, "i'm sorry."

yeosang says, "you have nothing to be sorry about. you're not doing anything wrong, y/n."

it's the first time anyone's said that to you, and you hadn't realized how much you needed someone to say that. you rub at the tears, taking a deep, steadying breath, and you say, "tell me the rest of the plan."

yeosang takes a breath, says, "okay. fine."

The One (C.S)

Final part of the Subtle Variations of Heartbreak series

summary: Who would’ve thought that Choi San, the dimpled heartbreaker you have known since you were merely fourteen years old, would be the one you’ve been looking for all this time?

warnings: smut, cursing, only slight angst, a little bit of pinning and maybe slow burn, death, sad yn

wc: almost 25k

a/n: hello everyone!! here is the final part of this extremely depressing series 😭 i want to thank all of you for joining me on this journey, this is the first series i wrote on tumblr so i was very nervous about it. thank you for all the sweet messages and feedback i’ve gotten so far it means the world. i hope you enjoy the last part as well. HAPPY BIRTHDAY SANNIE ❤️

taglist:  @itbtoblikethatsometimes​ @alecanal93​ @jaehyunsonly​ @binniesbf​ @mechanica-lmomma​ @yeosangteef​ @diorwoo​ @yeolsnini​ @hhj-00​ @purenjuniverse​ @joonsthethicc​ @hyvn-jaeee​ @becauseiloveyunho​ @chittaphonstar​ @uzumakioden​ @hwaist​ @kpopnightingale​ @princessongminki @baguette-atiny​ @gyuyoungie​ @knucklesdeepmingi​ @whatdoudowhennooneseesyou

You are twenty five years old when you start to think that maybe you just weren’t made to be loved.

Keep reading

THE ANSWER: XIX

Kim Hongjoong doesn’t like the word ‘cult.’ He prefers ‘sect.’ pairing: ateez x fem reader genre: cult au, thriller, angst check warnings on AO3

← previous || next → || masterlist chapter word count: 7,878

As usual, you wake up with the morning bell.

It takes you a moment to remember where you are. Once you do, you spring up, jumping to your feet in Hongjoong’s living room. 

“Good morning, princess.” You startle and wheel around to see Seonghwa standing in the kitchen area of the apartment. “Sleep well?” He gives you a sarcastic smile.

You bring a hand up to rub at your eyes, feeling them burn as you do so. You most certainly did not sleep well last night. Your entire body is sore and aching, though whether from your adventure last night or from sleeping on a couch, you’re not entirely sure. 

You take in more of the room, trying to get your bearings. “Where’s Hongjoong?” You question, turning back toward Seonghwa.

“Getting ready for service, as you should too.” Seonghwa gives you a once over. “Christ, you’re filthy. You slept like that? On Hongjoong’s couch?” 

You scoff. “When would I have had time to shower, genius?”

“It’s only been, I don’t know,” Seonghwa makes a show of pulling his sleeve back to look at his watch, “five hours since we got back. Maybe somewhere in there?”

You guess he has a point with that one, but you don’t even remember falling asleep. You were way too tired to care about showering. Apparently Hongjoong was, too, or he probably wouldn’t have let you sleep on his couch.

“The bathroom is in the bedroom, go shower before we have to go.” Seonghwa says, pointing to a closed door to his right. “I’ll get someone to bring you clean clothes.” He gives you another once over, not hiding the shudder that passes over him.

Your mind fails to produce a snarky remark, so you opt to shoot Seonghwa a look as you pass by him to reach the closed door. You grab the handle and twist, pushing the door open easily. 

You step into the room, taking in all that you can. You don’t exactly know what you were expecting Hongjoong’s bedroom to look like, but it wasn’t this. You’re not sure if the room always looks like a tornado blew through it, but that’s certainly what it looks like now, as you stand in the doorway. 

There’s loose paper all over the floor, reminding you of your university’s end-of-semester tradition of throwing schoolwork down the hallways like confetti. Ignoring the mess, the room looks mostly normal. There are more bookshelves in here, a desk, a bed, a dresser, and… that’s about it. You spot what must be the door to the bathroom on the right wall, but you hesitate before walking further.

You slowly squat to the floor, your thighs searing with the motion. You ignore the pain, however, in favor of reaching for the piece of paper closest to you. It’s a piece of lined notebook paper, the frilly edges still attached, with a single line written in the middle of the page, along with the date.

11/17/18 I found her.

Before even a thought is able to cross your mind about the sentence, a hand is on your shoulder. “Do you have any respect for anyone?” Seonghwa’s voice comes from over you, his free hand reaching around to pluck the piece of paper out of your hands. He pulls you up by your shirt, making you stand as he drops the paper to another area of the floor. “Seriously, can you follow a single direction? Do I need to help you bathe? Are you that incompetent?” 

You jerk your shoulder, pulling your shirt out of Seonghwa’s grasp. “You’re such a creep.” You straighten your shirt with your hands as you look to the floor, carefully stepping over other loose papers scattered about. You open the door to the bathroom, glad to see a very plain, average bathroom. 

You move to shut the door behind you, but Seonghwa quickly stops you with his tone. “Don’t shut the door.”

“Are you serious?” You ask, turning to face Seonghwa, who is still standing by the entrance of the bedroom. 

Seonghwa shrugs, “Can’t have any funny business going on, princess.”

You squint at Seonghwa. “What are you implying, exactly?”

His face contorts into a half-disgusted, half-disappointed face, “I meant I can’t have you trying to kill yourself, but if that’s the place your mind went…” He trails off before shaking his head, making his expression blank again. “Just leave the door cracked.”

You huff as you turn back into the bathroom, closing the door as much as possible without actually shutting it. You take a glance in the mirror, not really wanting to see how bad you assume you look. In just a quick look, you can see a smattering of dirt on your face and clothes, your hair looking equally as unkempt and messy. 

You peek into the shower, thankful that the knob is one that you understand how to work. Having to ask Seonghwa how to turn on the shower would truly be the last embarrassment you could take today, and the day has hardly begun. 

Turning the shower on, you speedily undress and hop in, thankful that the water had gotten warm already. You go about your business, scrubbing your body and washing your hair. To your relief, Hongjoong has both shampoo and conditioner, which you have come to understand is a big ask for some men.

About half way through rinsing your hair, a gentle hand knocks a couple times against the door. You freeze, unsure if you should peek your head out of the opaque curtain or even acknowledge the tapping. 

“Uh, (Y/n)?” You’re surprised to hear San’s voice come through the opening of the door. “Sorry to interrupt, uh, really sorry. But I brought you clean clothes?” He states the sentence like a question. “I, um, yeah, sorry, uh, I’m going to come in so I can set these in here for you, okay?”

“Okay.” You raise your voice a bit so that you can hopefully be heard over the running water.

The door hinge squeaks slightly as it opens, “I’m coming in…” San trails as you hear a couple footsteps come into the room. “Okay, they’re just sitting on the vanity, and, uh, I brought towels, too. I’ll leave now.” His sentence is punctuated by the sound of the door hitting the frame, but still not closing all of the way.

You finish up your shower, feeling very much refreshed as you reach for the towels San brought you. You quickly dry off and get dressed, assessing yourself in the mirror now that you’re feeling better.

The shower definitely helped your appearance, though you still don’t look the greatest you’ve ever looked. Gee, wonder why? You roll your eyes, examining the outfit that San had brought you. It’s the usual work pants and button up, the Sign of the Answer pinned to the collar that you hadn’t fully buttoned. You stare at the symbol in the mirror, the lights of the bathroom glinting off of the metal. It’s almost mesmerizing, but you pry your eyes away, opting to leave the bathroom. 

To your surprise, San is sitting at the desk in the corner of the bedroom, awkwardly playing with his fingers. The papers had been picked up off of the floor and are now stacked neatly in front of San, though he pays them no mind. His head turns at your movement, and he quickly hops out of the chair when he realizes that you’re there. “Sorry for sitting here all creepily, Seonghwa had to leave and told me to wait for you. Right here.”

You nod, believing his explanation well enough. The two of you stand in silence, and you take the time to take in San’s appearance. He’s dressed similarly to yourself, though he has suspenders wrapped around his shoulders and jewelry adorning his neck. It’s the first time you’ve seen San since you were in the infirmary, and you’re not exactly displeased that it had been him sent to get your clothes. 

Though you still don’t fully trust him, considering he was your first point of contact with this place, and essentially the very reason you’re trapped here, you can’t deny that there’s… something about him. Probably the way his face looks like it was personally sculpted by the hands of God.

He takes a few steps closer to you, a hand coming up to rub at the back of his neck, “Listen, (Y/n)... Are you okay?” 

That question again. You shrug in response, not sure what to say. 

San takes another step toward you, little space remaining between the two of you anymore. He looks down at you, his hand coming up to hover over your shoulder. “Can I touch you?” He asks quietly, placing his hand down onto you once you nod in approval. “I mean this seriously. Are you okay? Are you going to hurt yourself?” 

Your eyebrows furrow in confusion. This is the second time someone’s said something of that nature. “I don’t plan on it.” You state, genuinely meaning it. Killing yourself would accomplish exactly none of your goals at the moment. “Why?”

San blinks. “It’s happened a couple times.”

Your eyes widen as you realize what San is telling you. So there have been others like you, then? People that refused to get sucked into… whatever this is. 

“Promise that you’ll come to me,” San starts, still wearing a serious expression, “if you ever get that desperate. I’ll do whatever I can to help.”

“Okay?” You agree, though you’re not sure why San would think that he would be someone that you would want to go to in that situation. “Thanks, San.” You add as an afterthought, appreciating the offer at least.

“I mean it. It should never get to that point.” He squeezes your shoulder. “Other than that, are you okay? Any cuts or bruises or…” San’s eyes trail down your exposed arms, assessing for any damage. 

You shake your head, extending your arms to show that they’re intact.

“Great,” San smiles, his eyes crinkling with the expression. “If you’re ready, we should probably head to the chapel?” 

He drops his hand from your shoulder once you nod, confirming that you’re ready. If there is such a thing as being “ready” for whatever you’re about to hear Hongjoong rattle on about. 

The two of you make your way out of the apartment, heading down the stairs. It seems that the majority of the crowd has already made it downstairs or outside, as you two are left alone in your journey. 

You pause on one of the landings, a question bubbling to the forefront of your mind. “Um, San,” you start, getting the man’s attention. He stops as well, turning his head to face you. “Does everyone… know?” 

Not that you’re really that concerned about the other Followers knowing about your escape attempt, really… if not for Mingi. 

The thought of Mingi knowing about your attempted escape is, honestly, kind of embarrassing. If he knew that you tried to leave, how would that make him feel? Would he feel like you betrayed him by trying to leave him behind? Surely he would understand that you would’ve come back for him, right? Or would he feel betrayed to find that you don’t believe in the Answer, whatever that even entails? Would he be sad? Angry?

San shakes his head at you. “No, don’t worry. Just us bigwigs. Hongjoong doesn’t like sharing these stories, just in case they, well, you know, inspire the others.”

“Ahhh,” you let your voice trail off to silence as San resumes walking down the stairs, with you following. You suppose that settles one of your concerns, but there is another issue beginning to weigh on your mind.

Surely, there must be a punishment for your actions in store. What will it be? How serious will it be? If Hongjoong meant to kill you for the transgression, he would’ve had it happen last night, he made that clear enough. But what other punishment could there be? You vaguely remember Seonghwa telling you something about him beating even women for Hongjoong, but whether that was just a threat or the honest truth still remains a mystery. 

There’s no way Hongjoong would have you beaten. Absolutely no way. Right? If he cares about you so much…

Speaking of which, what the hell was that dream last night? Was that a dream? It must’ve been, there’s no other explanation. Hongjoong, murderer and cult leader, crying over you? Pleading with you to forgive him? That is simply not the reality of the situation that you are in. If anything, the mere thought that it was a dream warrants some serious soul-searching on your own part. Why are you dreaming about cuddling with Hongjoong, huh? 

None of last night really makes any sense at all. In all honesty, the entire night feels like a dream, not just when you arrived back to the compound. Already, the memories are gaining a hazy glow about them, like the events happened so long ago that they are becoming hard to recall. You can probably attribute that to the exhaustion you were feeling at the time, and the fact that it happened so late at night… but it’s still a bit odd, nevertheless.

But that really isn’t relevant. What is relevant, however, is what the hell is supposed to happen now. What will your punishment be? What will your next plan be? When is the next time that you will be able to act? Will there be another opportunity?

… Of course there will be, it will just be a matter of time. 

Before you know it, San and yourself are stepping out the front door and headed toward the chapel. Now that you’re outside, you catch a few glimpses of fellow stragglers still headed to service, though it does seem that the two of you will be the last to join. 

When you reach the steps, San scales them quickly, offering his hand to you to guide you up the couple steps. You take it lightly, though pull back as soon as you’re up the steps. As attractive as San might be, you have to keep your wits about you. Like he said, he’s a ‘bigwig.’ He is ultimately responsible for you being stuck here…

As per usual, the doors are being held open by a couple people that you can’t recall meeting before. You still offer a small smile as you pass by, not entirely forgetting the manners that you were raised with despite the uncomfortableness of the situation. To be fair, those two people are probably just as innocent as you are. They don’t deserve a cold shoulder or an attitude.

San ducks into the chapel first, leading the way up the rows. To your dismay, he walks all the way to the front, turning back to smile at you and gesture for you to slide onto the pew first. You quickly glance around, trying to find another person that you could excuse yourself to sit with.

While you are able to spot Mingi and Yunho sitting together, their row is entirely full. Yunho gives you a small wave when he notices you looking, and you have to resist the urge to squint at him. Though you haven’t confirmed that Yunho was the one that snitched on you, really, who else could it have been?

You look to the other side of the room and find Nayeon and Seungmin, though, again, their pew is already full of other worshippers.

Welp, that decides it for you.

Sighing, you turn back to San and take his offer, sliding onto the first pew. You scootch until you’re sitting within a few inches of the next person on the bench, who turns to glare at you as soon as he can.

“Have fun last night?” Jongho whispers to you in a tone that is much less than kind. “You better have, because you destroyed rows upon rows of corn.” 

Not sure how to respond, you quickly turn away, trying your best to not incur any more of his wrath. 

“Look at me when I’m talking to you.” Jongho demands, his voice still not raising above a whisper. 

Your whip back to face him once more, having not expected him to say anything more. “Sorry?”

“You better be,” Jongho sneers, “I’ve told Hongjoong this already, but let me make it clear to you as well. If I find you in my fields— no, if I even hear about you in my fields again— it won’t end as nicely as it did last night. Got it?”

You do your best to keep your expression neutral, though that is quite a task when your life is being threatened. Again unsure of how to respond, you simply nod at Jongho, your eyes wide. 

Jongho tuts as he turns away from you, crossing his arms over his chest. 

You do the same, though you place your hands on your thighs in an attempt to stealthily wipe the nervous sweat off of your palms. Seriously, what is Jongho’s problem with you? You glance over at San, wondering if he had just been witness to that exchange, but you find that he’s engrossed in conversation with Wooyoung on his other side. 

Not even a minute passes before you hear the doors creaking shut behind you, the room slowly plunging into darkness that is broken only by the two windows by the entrance. At the back of the chapel, their light hardly reaches you. 

In the time that you had had between your release from the infirmary and your escape attempt, you had grown used to the pattern of these services. Hongjoong would come in, make some grand statement, spout some bullshit, make announcements, and get on with his day. You memorized the motions of the crowd, the responses to make, the way to behave… but you still refused to follow them.

Nothing has changed. You don’t duck your head as you hear Hongjoong’s footsteps coming down the aisle of the chapel. You turn to face him instead, watching as he struts his way to the stage in front of you.

As usual, he smiles at your small rebellion. 

Today, he’s wearing his normal clothes, the work clothes that blend in with everyone else. Seonghwa trails behind Hongjoong in his typical, oddly military fashion. And, as usual with Seonghwa, he’s glaring at you.

You smile just to provoke Seonghwa, raising your hand to wiggle your fingers at him in a mock wave. 

If you’re already going to feel their wrath, might as well have a little fun with it. 

When they reach the stage, Seonghwa sits on the same pew as yourself, albeit on the other side of Yeosang, who sat next to Wooyoung, who sat next to San, who sat next to you. Hongjoong takes his seat on his chair-throne-hybrid, giving you one last tight-lipped smile before starting. “Good morning.”

“Good morning.” The crowd answers, their heads hanging toward their laps. 

“Rise.” Hongjoong commands, the heads quickly following.

And thus begins Hongjoong’s normal shenanigans. You find yourself lapsing in attention, your eyelids heavy despite having just woken up. You half-way drowse through the service, struggling to keep yourself awake. Hongjoong’s voice is honestly a bit relaxing when he’s on his tangents, his way of speaking generally being quite soft. 

Hearing your name snaps you out of your daze. 

“(Y/n) and San will be living together, from now on. I have given them my blessing, and I hope you all will follow suit.” 

You quickly look up at Hongjoong, eyes wide and eyebrows raised. He looks like he’s resisting the urge to laugh, a particular glint in his gaze daring you to say something. You opt to look over at San instead, only to see him looking just as surprised as yourself. 

“As a community, we must encourage dependability and foster connections where we can. San and (Y/n) are fated to have a connection in Universe One, and thus they must have one here. Hence,” Hongjoong clears his throat, obviously stifling a laugh, “they will be brought together in this way.”

You look back over to San, who is still looking just as shocked as you feel. He turns to look at you, as if trying to ask if you knew about this. You do your best to convey that you also had no idea, though there is really only so much you can do through an expression. You gently shrug your shoulders. 

Hongjoong continues on with his sermon, though you do not continue paying attention. Instead, you worry about what exactly Hongjoong means by ‘living together.’ As in, living together in one of those small rooms? Does San have a nicer room than you? Or will you get an apartment, like the married couples? No, hold on, because you will not be getting married— even spiritually— to anyone here, especially not San. What is Hongjoong’s goal with this?

Once he wraps up his announcements for the day, Hongjoong stands. As per usual, everyone else remains sitting, waiting for their leader to excuse himself before rising to their feet. 

Instead of walking straight out of the chapel, however, Hongjoong motions to you and San, beckoning the two of you to follow with him. 

You both obey, stumbling to your feet in shock to follow Hongjoong, hopeful for an explanation. Seonghwa follows after you, falling in line. 

Hongjoong swings the door open, the morning sunlight instantly pouring into the chapel and nearly blinding you. How he is able to do that so easily, you will never know. You blink quickly in an attempt to adjust to the light as you follow behind Hongjoong as he leads your small group back to the main building. 

Once you arrive, he heads straight for the stairs, scaling them without checking to make sure that his posse is still with him. Your group walks in silence up the stairs to the final level of the compound. 

Now that it’s not the middle of the night, the lights are on and you can take in much more of the hallway than you had been able to last night. There are more doors than you had realized, though definitely not as many as on the lower floors. Hongjoong leads you about halfway down the hall before stopping in front of a door, resting his hand on the knob. 

He finally turns to look at the three of you, a grin that can truly only be described as cheeky spreading across his features. “Welcome to your new apartment,” he twists the handle, pushing the door inward. “Let’s talk.” He gestures for you to enter the apartment first, his hand resting flat against the door to keep it open.

San follows the direction first, resting a gentle hand on your back as he slides past you. Seonghwa is not as gentle, opting to shoulder you out of his way to get into the apartment. Hongjoong (who is still smiling), gestures again for you to enter, and you finally heed.

Stepping inside, you find that the apartment is quite similar to the one that Hongjoong occupies, even down to the furniture. Although lacking any personal effects, there are the same bookshelves, the same coffee table, and the same couch. The layout of the apartment is relatively similar as well, with the kitchenette off to your right and a door leading to another room on the adjacent wall. 

Seonghwa makes himself at home, pulling out a stool from under the small counter and dragging it to the living room. San awkwardly stands in the space between the couch and the coffee table, staring behind you to watch Hongjoong.

Hongjoong closes the door to the apartment behind himself, walking up behind you and wrapping an arm around your shoulders. Despite planting your feet to the ground below you, he is still able to drag you with him as he walks further inside, releasing his grip once you’re standing at San’s side. “Sit.” He motions to the couch.

San sits first, shuffling to the far left side of the couch. You follow his lead, scooching to the far right side as Hongjoong plants himself on the coffee table. You blink at him, already a bit offended that he would use your coffee table as a seat. 

“What the fuck is going on?” You spit, not taking your eyes off of Hongjoong’s face. His smile never falters, unfortunately.

Hongjoong chuckles. “Do you remember what happened last night?”

You tilt your head, squinting your eyes at Hongjoong as sarcastically as you can. 

“I don’t want to call this your punishment, per se, but I’m sure you can imagine why you can no longer be trusted to live alone.” He holds his palms up in front of him as if asking ‘what can I do?’ 

“So you’re making me live with San?” You look over at San, feeling only a little guilty about the tone that you speak his name in. “Why him?” Though you're not pleased by the thought of suddenly having to live with anyone, the thought of it being San in particular comes off as strange.

Hongjoong turns his attention toward the man in question, his smile faulting slightly. “San was the natural choice, seeing as the others don’t particularly like you, and I couldn’t pair you with just anyone.” Hongjoong glances back over to you. “And San is a devoted Follower. I’m hoping he’ll rub off on you.”

San clears his throat from his side of the couch, garnering the attention of yourself and the other two men. “So, what you said in the service, about (Y/n) and I being fated in Universe One… Is that a true prophecy or just an excuse for the others?” 

Hongjoong scoffs, though he tries to play it off as a cough. “A little of both. You’re fated because I’m making it so. There isn’t any need for either of you to read into the impacts this will have on the Clones.” He waves his hand in front of him. “(Y/n) has something much bigger fated than a simple living arrangement.”

“Such as?” You lead, hoping that Hongjoong would afford you the single luxury of a little foresight. 

Hongjoong simply shakes his head. “Be patient. I can’t tell you just yet.” He looks over to Seonghwa, who is still sitting silently. “Seonghwa is going to be your next door neighbor, from now on.” 

You look over at Seonghwa, who simply glares back at you. 

“San,” Hongjoong’s tone is firm as he gets the man’s attention. “Let me make one thing very clear to you. You will not touch (Y/n). She is not yours.” 

Your gaze flits to San, who is staring at Hongjoong with wide eyes. “I would n-”

Hongjoong doesn’t let him finish his sentence. “And that goes for you as well, (Y/n). The walls are thin. We’ll know if your ‘punishment’ becomes something it isn’t supposed to be.” He’s no longer smiling. 

In turn, you smile. “Seriously? You think you can tell me to not have sex?” You ask the question in more of a ‘fuck you’ than anything else, and you hope that San doesn’t read into it. Truly, you don’t want to have sex with San, but who is Hongjoong to tell you that you couldn’t if you did? 

Seonghwa scoffs. “Poor little princess has to keep it in her pants. How ever will she survive, Hongjoong? I’m sure she had just the craziest sex life right up until this moment.” His voice drips sarcasm, and the desire to punch him has never been stronger.

Hongjoong ignores Seonghwa. “I’m not saying you can’t have sex, (Y/n). I’m saying you can’t have sex with San.” Hongjoong clears his throat, clearly feeling uncomfortable despite the very bold implications he’s making. Ew. “Think of it as part of your punishment— Which, by the way, has more to it.” 

He stands up from the coffee table, walking over to the bookshelves against the wall. You follow him with your eyes, watching as he reaches to the shelf in front of him and grabs the only book available. You don’t have to be a genius to guess what the book is. 

Hongjoong holds it in front of him, as if admiring the tome. “I know you haven’t read The Answer. That is going to change.” He walks back to the coffee table, sitting down on its wooden surface once more. He not so gently drops the book onto your lap, stinging your thighs through the material of your pants. “You will have daily reading sessions with either myself or Seonghwa until you finish the book, starting tomorrow.”

You look from the book in your lap to the man sitting in front of you. There is no way in hell you’re reading that damn book. Hongjoong must sense the defiance in you already. “Might I remind you, (Y/n), how lucky you are to be alive? That you begged for your life at my feet?” Hongjoong stands, towering over you from your spot on the couch. “That you promised you would make it up to me if I let you live?” He leans forward, resting his hands on your shoulders, pushing you back into the pillows. “You will prove your worth to me, or I will kill you. It would be wise to not forget.” He whispers. 

With Hongjoong entirely too close to your face and his grip unpleasantly tight on your shoulders, you can’t do anything but nod. Though you don’t want to remember last night, and you obviously said those things only to escape with your life, you have to agree. As much as you hate to admit it, Hongjoong is right. He can kill you whenever he wants. There’s no one coming to save you; you are entirely at his mercy. 

Any sense of rebellion that you had had, even for a fleeting second, is gone. Hongjoong must see the light leave your eyes, as he finally breaks into a smile while still holding you tight. 

“That’s my good girl.” It doesn’t sound much like a compliment. He quickly dips closer to you, pressing his lips to your forehead before you have the opportunity to jerk away. 

The kiss is chaste, and he lets go of you to stand straight once again very soon after you even comprehend what he’s done. “Well, we’ll leave the two of you alone, then. San, you’ll continue working as usual, though you’ll do it from here to keep an eye on her. (Y/n), I’ve told Wooyoung to halt your schedule to accommodate our lessons, so no need to go to the kitchens for the next few days.” 

Seonghwa rises from his spot as Hongjoong starts to make his way toward the door, following his leader. 

“One more thing, San. You are not to let her out of your sight. Feel free to live your lives as normal, but it must be together. Do not leave her alone with anyone unless it is myself or Seonghwa, okay?” Hongjoong pauses in the entryway, looking expectantly at San. 

San nods, running a hand through his hair. “Okay, Hongjoong.” 

Hongjoong must be satisfied, as he finally opens the door and exits the apartment. Seonghwa offers no goodbye, simply following Hongjoong out into the hallway and shutting the door behind himself. 

The apartment is plunged into an awkward silence. What are you supposed to say to San? After he just agreed to be Hongjoong’s personal watchdog? Now that you’re being forced to live together? 

“(Y/n)?” San says your name like a question. You look over at him before he starts speaking once more. “I want you to know that I genuinely had no idea that he was planning this. I’m sorry.” 

You nod, offering a small smile to San even though you’re not quite sure if you believe him. Why would Hongjoong not tell him? Unless he had planned this whole idea entirely last minute, it doesn’t make sense that San wouldn’t be in on it. 

Unless San had done something to piss Hongjoong off? And this was a sort of punishment for him as well? That could be a possibility, you suppose. But what could San have done that would warrant something like this? Something like a test of loyalty? 

Does Hongjoong trust San implicitly, and that’s why he was given this job? Or does he question San’s loyalty; is he wondering just how deep it lies, and this is a test for him as much as it is for you? 

“And, also, I won’t come onto you. Even if Hongjoong hadn’t said anything, I would never touch you,” San glances at you quickly before averting his eyes, “without your permission.” He quickly clears his throat, standing up. “You can take the bedroom, there’s probably only one bed. I can sleep out here just fine.” 

“Wouldn’t that be letting me out of your sight?” You mean to say it as a joke, but San takes your question more seriously.

He ponders for a second, frowning a bit. “I don’t think he meant it that literally, do you?” He tilts his head to look over at the bedroom, though the door is still closed. “If you think he did, then I suppose we can share the bed. It wouldn’t bother me if it wouldn’t bother you.” He pauses, “But I really don’t want to make you uncomfortable. I don’t mind either way, really.” He rushes the sentence out, jumbling the words together. 

In a way, San’s desire to make you comfortable is almost touching. Since getting to this place, had there been a single person who really tried? Mingi, that first night? Nayeon, when she was taking care of you? When was the last time you had experienced genuine kindness? You couldn’t say for sure. 

Though it is very well possible that San could have ulterior motives, the gesture is still touching to you. Despite what you hold against San, you almost feel grateful to him for the simple kindness he’s extending to you now. He doesn’t have to treat you gently or fondly, and yet he does. 

And, really, is San responsible for this? For you being stuck here? Just because he took your phone? Can you blame him for doing his job? How could you fault him for being just as loyal to Hongjoong as everyone else here? It’s not as if you knew him before and could expect any more from him. 

“Thank you, San,” you find yourself saying. “For being respectful.”

San looks at you sadly. “Its the least I could do.”

.・。.・゜✭ ⧖ ・.・ ⧖ ✫・゜・。.

You spend the rest of your day awkwardly glued to San’s hip. Try as you might to get him to leave you alone for even a few minutes, he stays loyal to his promise to Hongjoong. 

The two of you had ventured down to San’s office to grab some of his work supplies, and you were a bit shocked to see that he had a laptop sitting on his desk. That was the first piece of technology that you had seen since he took your phone, and it was startling. 

What San’s reasons are for having a laptop, you’re not sure. You’re also not sure if there was even a WiFi router in his office, so whether or not the laptop is connected to the internet is an entirely different mystery. One that is very intriguing. 

If there is some connection to the outside world, even a small one, you would have to try and take advantage of it. If that laptop is connected to the internet somehow, it could very well be the key to your escape…

But San had completely ignored the laptop, opting to instead grab a few ledgers and files from a filing cabinet. He had rushed to grab his things, seemingly uncomfortable with you standing there and watching him. Honestly, you were too caught up staring at the laptop to even bother looking for anything else around the room, which might have been a mistake. If San really was uncomfortable with you in his office, there must be a reason (or reasons, plural?), other than the item that had been so plainly left on his desk. 

The rest of your day had proceeded as normal, except you didn’t work in the kitchens at all and you had San with you the entire time (so, really, not normal at all). When you weren’t eating, the two of you kept to yourselves within the new apartment. You honestly have no idea what you’re supposed to say to him, or how you’re supposed to interact with him.

The two of you hadn’t exactly gotten close, and the last time you had really spoken to him was on the day of your arrival. You’re not sure of his personality or his behaviors, which puts you a little on edge. What if the two of you start to interact and absolutely cannot get along? 

Or what if you become fast friends? What if you find yourself enjoying the company? 

While you don’t want to spend… however long Hongjoong plans on making the two of you live together in complete awkwardness, you’re not sure if you would prefer getting close to San. It would probably make everything a whole lot more bearable, but is getting attached to people the right thing to do in this situation? Is there even a right thing to do? 

You honestly have no idea. The thought of remaining distant from San is equally as concerning as the thought of getting close with him. Both possibilities have their own pros and cons, and it will be hard to pick one of them. Though you suppose that San will also play a determining factor in your decision. If he refuses to speak to you, you won’t be able to befriend him very easily.

Not that he is refusing to speak to you, of course. The lack of conversation seems much more attributable to the looming tension between the two of you; the stiffness of your interactions due to the simple lack of knowledge about each other.

Had Hongjoong thought this far ahead? Picked the person that would make you just perfectly uncomfortable? Speaking of what Hongjoong had said— didn’t he say that the ‘others’ didn’t like you? What the hell was that? Obviously, Hongjoong wouldn’t have you live with himself or Seonghwa. That leaves Jongho, Yeosang, Wooyoung, and San. You know that Jongho doesn’t like you (for what reason, you still have no idea), but what about Yeosang and Wooyoung? What was the reason for not picking either of them? Did they have an issue with you that you were unaware of?

You try to think of your last interaction with your boss. Nothing seemed too out of the ordinary. Wooyoung has always been perfectly pleasant with you… so maybe that was part of it? Hongjoong didn’t want someone that actually liked your presence to be the one to watch you, maybe? 

But what about Yeosang, the mechanic? The last thing you remember saying to him was your question about the vehicles around the farm. Besides that, you really hadn’t interacted with him very much. Was there something that you did to him? 

It could be another Jongho situation, you suppose. Maybe he just doesn’t like new people. That could very well be it. But that leaves you to wonder if there is a deeper reason behind Jongho’s attitude toward you. He treats you like he has a personal vendetta against you, like you have personally offended him on multiple levels. What the hell you had ever done to him, you have absolutely no clue. Jongho was callous to you the first time that you ever met him, already hostile toward you even before you knew what you had gotten yourself into. 

This place really doesn’t make any sense. The place itself, the people, their behaviors, none of it. 

Though it might be a bit soon to begin planning for your next escape attempt, you know that it must start eventually. You refuse to remain in this place for a second longer than you must. You will not be kept here for the rest of your life, so long as you can help it.

The beginnings of a plan swirl through your mind, but you cannot think of anything concrete.

.・。.・゜✭ ⧖ ・.・ ⧖ ✫・゜・。.

You can’t speak for San, but, by the time you return to your new room after dinner, you’re exhausted. It seems almost impossible to think that you had been in the corn fields less than 24 hours ago, that you had slept on Hongjoong’s couch just last night, that you had been served your punishment just this morning. 

You hadn’t had the chance to talk to anyone else today, though you were holding that you would be able to talk to Mingi. You are mildly worried that, despite what San said, he might’ve gotten wind of what happened last night. Not to mention that you’re curious to know how he feels about your new living arrangement.

Though you’re not sure what you hope for. You realize that you wouldn’t like it if Mingi is happy for you, so what is it that you want? 

Isn’t that just the question? What do you want from Mingi? Why had you come here in the first place? To catch up with Mingi. Could the plan have potentially gone more awry? You had wanted to find Mingi, to reconnect with him, and now you’re here. Probably less than 500 feet from him, and you’ve hardly interacted with him at all. 

Not that you could if you wanted to, of course. Hongjoong has made it clear that it will be abundantly difficult for you to have a private conversation with anyone. His design is to isolate you from the one person that you could have any sway over, and it is clever enough that you’re not sure how you can work around it.

Maybe, with time, San will trust you more and become more lenient with the rules that Hongjoong had set. That’s all you can really hope for. 

San sits on the couch, a copy of The Answer open in his lap. It must be his personal copy, as it looks quite beat up from your perspective. You sit on one of the kitchen stools, a few feet away from him. You can hear his breathing and the occasional flip of a page, and you find that you are curious as to what he’s reading. Are there stories in the book, like there are stories in the Bible? Is it just a collection of Hongjoong’s thoughts? His rules? His ideas? You honestly don’t know. 

You very easily could find out for yourself, a pristine copy of The Answer resting on the coffee table in front of San…

No. You aren’t curious. You don’t care. The last thing you want to do right now is voluntarily read cult propaganda. Besides, it’s not like you won’t find out soon enough, with your ‘lessons’ starting tomorrow. 

You’re startled out of your thoughts by the sound of San’s book hitting the coffee table. You turn yourself on the stool as you hear him stand, prepared for him to address you. 

“So,” he starts, taking a step toward you, but still keeping a fair distance, “how do you think we should… sleep?" 

You rub your eyes with the bases of your palms. You had kind of been ignoring thinking about it on purpose. You obviously don't want to share a bed with San, but you also feel bad making him sleep on the couch. You have no idea how long this arrangement will last, and making someone sleep on a couch for an indefinite amount of time feels cruel. With that being said, you don't want to be the one sleeping on the couch, either. 

Assuming the bedroom is similar to Hongjoong's, the bed should be big enough to easily accommodate two people. It wouldn't be that uncomfortable to share the bed (if you ignore the fact that you hardly know each other).

"If you're comfortable with it, we can share the bed. It’s fine with me." You suggest the idea before you think any further on it. 

San hesitates. "You're sure?" He points at the couch behind him, "I can definitely make myself comfortable out here."

"Yeah, it's, it's fine, San. I don't want to make you sleep on a couch when there's a perfectly fine bed in the next room."

San gives you a crooked smile. "You wouldn't be 'making' me do anything, you know; I'm offering purely out of my gentlemanly heart." He emphasizes his last words as if he's joking, but you sense that he isn't. He really wouldn't care, no matter what decision you make.

You find yourself chuckling anyhow. “I appreciate your gallantry, San,” you play along, “but, really, I don’t mind.”

“If you insist, my lady.” San giggles with you. “But don’t be surprised if you change your mind after tonight, I’m kind of a blanket hog.” 

.・。.・゜✭ ⧖ ・.・ ⧖ ✫・゜・。. The two of you get ready for bed, each taking turns changing into your pajamas in your new bathroom. You hadn’t realized how much you had missed not having to use a communal bathroom, but it is now obvious that the privacy of a single bathroom had been desperately missing from your life. 

You brush your teeth side by side, though you attempt to look absolutely anywhere but San’s reflection in the mirror. In doing so, you take in more details of the bathroom. The large bathtub/shower combination, the cold white tiles of the floor, the plain beige walls, the silver fixtures, the large vanity and mirror panels that take up half of the damn wall. It’s just about as average of a bathroom as you can imagine, if not a little bit fancier in some regards. You certainly didn’t have such large mirrors in your apartment, your real one. For a second, you wonder if the apartment is still as you left it. Had you missed rent yet? Is your landlord spamming your phone, asking where his money is? 

Hopefully he’s not such an asshole that he would get rid of your stuff, but you wouldn’t put it past him. Not that you have anything too valuable anyhow, but it would really blow to have all of your stuff gone if you ever get out of here. 

When. When you get out of here.

You slide into bed first, claiming the left side as your own. You keep to the edge of the bed, trying to take up as little space as possible. When San joins you, he does the same. The blanket strains in the middle with the weight of both of you pulling it as far as it wants to go in either direction, but you both choose to ignore this fact.

San clicks off the bedside lamp on his side and you follow suit. “Goodnight, (Y/n).” San whispers, flipping over onto his side. 

“Goodnight, San.”

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THE ANSWER: XVIII

Kim Hongjoong doesn’t like the word ‘cult.’ He prefers ‘sect.’ pairing: ateez x fem reader genre: cult au, thriller, angst check warnings on AO3

← previous || next → || masterlist chapter word count: 8,460

FUCK.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. 

That’s the only thought that you’re capable of stringing together. FUCK. WHY.

Why had Yunho been there? Why had he been downstairs? Why at that exact time? Why? Is the universe against you? Is there some metaphysical reason that you can’t fucking get anything to go right? Is Hongjoong onto something about fucking parallel universes? Fuck.

You rush down the hallway, away from the cafeteria, without any real idea of where you’re going. If you open the door, will Yunho hear? 

Does that even matter? He’s going to tell someone, he has to, he’s fucking Yunho for Christ’s sake. One of the most delusional people here. God. Why?

You would almost rather that it had been Seonghwa, or even Hongjoong himself, that had found you. At least then this would all be over with much quicker. You wouldn’t have to worry about them finding out, or about your dwindling time window for escape. You would simply be stopped. Stopped how? You’re not entirely sure. But it would be better than painful prickling in your chest as your heart beats wildly against your still rather fresh injury.

The handle of the knife is digging into your back as you hurry down the hall. Did Yunho see it? He must’ve. Fuck. The feeling of the blade through the towel is almost unbearable. Not in a painful way, simply in the weight of the action behind taking it. Was it worth it? If you hadn’t gone for the knife, would you have been caught?

Why had you even thought you needed it? To defend yourself? From who? Had you planned on getting caught? In your running mind, it almost seems like you had. As if you would be able to use a weapon on someone, even Hongjoong or Seonghwa, even if your life was threatened. Did you honestly believe it would be that easy?

The hallway feels as if it is expanding, growing ever longer to prevent your escape. It’s disorientating, like a terrible shot in a horror movie that shows just how hopeless the situation is. It feels like you could turn around and be only inches from Yunho, having barely made any progress at all. The walls stretch as you hope that you’re getting closer and closer to the bend that will lead to the door. Will you ever reach it? Will you open it if you do?

After what feels like forever, you reach the front door and make your decision without even considering any other options. You pull the door open, expecting it to be much heavier than it actually is. You stumble back at the lightness, probably making entirely too much noise, but you genuinely cannot be bothered.

You fly out the door, the cool night air hitting your face as you start running without any attempt to hide yourself. For all intents and purposes, you’ve already been caught. The clock is only ticking down until they find you. Might as well attempt to put more distance between yourself and this place; might as well make it as hard as possible for them to locate you. 

Your feet pound against the ground, the shock of your weight sending a dull pain through your lower legs with each strike, but you can barely feel it. When you reach the beginning (or end, depending on your view) of the driveway, you turn back, checking for signs of… anything.

Your eyes don’t want to focus or stay still, but you can tell that there’s no movement at the door. The windows… maybe. A few curtains look to be rustling in their frames. But that could be anyone, not necessarily Hongjoong or Seonghwa, or even just your eyes and their inability to focus with the adrenaline coursing through you. 

Whatever, it doesn’t matter. You need to run. Now. And you take off once more down the driveway, running straight down the middle of the road. You’re vaguely aware of the small rocks and pebbles stirring in your wake, and a truly miniscule portion of your thinking goes toward praying that you don’t hit a big rock and stumble. The last thing that needs to happen right now is a sprained or broken ankle, not that even that would be able to completely stop you. 

The next thing your mind devotes capacity to is the realization of how dark it is. You know that there are seven foot corn stalks surrounding the road, but you can hardly even see your arms swinging at your sides, let alone five feet to your left or right. 

You just hope that your eyes will adjust as you’re outside longer. 

You continue sprinting down the dirt road, simultaneously aware of the chill in the September air and the moisture rising on your skin. That’s another realization— it must be September by now. You run for what feels like ages, hoping and praying that the distance is as far as it feels. Though you can’t see very far ahead or behind yourself, you feel that you must be out of sight of the farm, at least. If it was daytime, would you be able to see the T-shape of the end of the road? You’re not sure. How long had the dirt road gone on when you arrived? A mile? Maybe a bit more? 

As you run, there’s a tightening pain in your chest that demands to be felt. You slow your pace in an attempt to fill your lungs, but the panting breaths continue until you have to stop. You pause in the middle of the road, bending in half to rest your hands on your knees. 

For a brief moment, you wonder if you’re going to start hyperventilating. The breaths come faster and faster as you straighten back up, bringing a hand to swipe over your forehead. You let out a cough, hoping to clear some of the tightness in your chest as you try to control your breathing. In and out. Nice and slow. You focus on the sound of your breaths, realizing that they are, quite literally, the only sound to be heard. It’s soothing, in a way. 

You begin to calm down, feeling your breathing return to a semblance of a healthy pattern. You glance around, hoping to see anything that could be of guidance to yourself. While you notice that your eyes have adjusted a bit more (you can now see the small patches of grass lining the road before the corn starts), you can’t see much that could help you. 

Onward.

As you begin your jaunt down the road again, the thought of how long you have until they’re coming for you crosses your mind. It seems like it’s been a while, at least 15 minutes. Maybe Yunho hadn’t said anything? Maybe he simply assumed you were telling the truth?

No, he’s not that gullible. You can’t even let yourself hope that he would be. If anything, he’s way too far up Hongjoong’s ass to not say something. God.

What would Mingi have done if he had found you? You try to quickly dismiss the thought, obviously he wouldn’t give you up. Right? Or… would he? He wants you to stay, but… that badly? Would he have even realized that you were running? You really have no id-

Behind you, an engine roars awake, the sound tearing through the air to you.

The sound startles you so hard that you freeze, coming to a stop so quickly that you almost face-plant into the gravel. The scratching of the rocks beneath your feet almost seems louder than the engine now idling from behind you. You stand as still as you possibly can, waiting to hear the churning of rocks or the crunch of the grass or something that would indicate movement. 

Your eyes desperately scan the road in front of you as you search for an out. There’s nothing. Absolutely nothing. All you can see is the road in front of you and the beginnings of the corn to either side. Though your only choice is clear, you can’t quite bring yourself to veer off of the gravel. Is it not common knowledge that corn fields are dangerous?

The engine revs from somewhere behind you, followed by the crunching of the dirt road.

Your breathing speeds up as you remain frozen, trying to form a singular coherent thought. You obviously cannot outrun a vehicle. But you very well could get lost and die if you went into the corn. But there truly are no other options. Its run or hide. There is no third choice, no way out and no way back. 

“Fuck.” You whisper to yourself, not hesitating any longer. 

You quickly dash off of the road and head to the field at your right, not considering the consequences any longer. If you get lost and die in the corn, at least Hongjoong won’t have the satisfaction of killing you himself, right? Better to die from the elements than some psychopath, right? 

You reach the first stalks, using your hands and shoulders to pry an opening as you step into the field. Your feet quickly sink into the soft dirt of the field, but you don’t let it deter you. The smell also hits you quickly, foul and distinctly manure. Fucking hell, that stench is going to linger… assuming you make it out tonight. You still press on further into the corn, being careful to watch your footfalls while also going as fast as you can. Again, the last thing you need right now is a broken ankle. Especially now that you know they’re coming.

Once you think you’re probably around fifteen feet deep into the field, you pause to listen. For a brief second, all you can hear is your own breathing and the rustling of the stalks around you. Your hands burn with small cuts caused by grabbing the plants, and you can feel your feet sinking deeper into the dirt beneath you, but the sensations are pushed to the back of your mind as you focus on the engine.

You can still hear the crunch of the road and the hum of the engine, but it’s harder to conceptualize where the sound is coming from with reference to where you are. Its behind you, for certain, coming closer. You grab onto the stalks in front of you in an attempt to stop them from rustling, desperate to hear every single hint that the sounds behind you could offer.

It still sounds as though the vehicle is quite a bit away from you, but you have no idea what the true distance is. 

Carefully and deliberately, you turn to your left. You try to keep as straight as possible, wanting to keep your bearings as much as possible. You should be pointing directly away from the farm, and the road should now be to your left, assuming you had traveled a straight path inward. Taking a deep breath, you continue straight onward. You know that you can’t outrun them, but it can’t hurt to put more distance in the way. 

You don’t run, as you can tell from the way your feet sink into the soil and the thickness of the stalks that it would only end in you injuring yourself. Instead, you try and carefully make your way ahead, deliberate with every step.

The engine only whines louder. 

The adrenaline coursing through you makes your hands shake as you grab onto the stalks in front of you, the vibrations passing along to the leaves near your hands. You can feel dirt starting to seep into your shoes, maddeningly squishing under your sock. The smell of the manure has faded to barely a sensation, but that could probably be attributed to the fact that you’re almost exclusively breathing through your mouth now, huffing from the exertion of keeping yourself upright on the uneven ground. 

The engine sounds closer, much closer now. Maybe only 30 or 40 feet from where you’re standing. You come to a halt, panickedly trying to decide whether it would be better to keep moving and risk being seen, or to stop altogether and hope that they can’t track your position. Your hand shakes as you bring it up to press against your mouth, attempting to slow your breathing that had started accelerating once again. 

The engine sounds louder, and you dare turn your head to the left. Though the stalks are much taller than yourself, you squat in an attempt to hide yourself further, allowing yourself to turn toward the road. Guess your decision is made, then. Hide it is. You peer through the stalks, trying to catch a glimpse of the road on the outside. It’s hardly successful, considering you can hardly see in front of yourself due to the darkness of the night. 

That is, until light inches toward the stalks. 

Once you perceive the light, it grows, rays getting stronger as the source moves closer and closer. The vehicle is almost ear-shatteringly loud now, quickly approaching your location. It’s close enough that you can hear the gravel tearing out under the wheels, scraping against the other rocks on the road. 

You’re shaking. You press your free hand against the hand on your face, trying your best to still the shuttering that has now overtaken you. You allow yourself to squat lower, pressing your body as small as it will condense. You hardly want to blink, wanting to see the light grow brighter and brighter, hoping and praying that it will pass you and they’ll continue on without stopping.

Please, please, please. You hold your eyes wide open, watching as the source of the light finally comes into view. Between the stalks, you can hardly see the body of the truck, but it is undeniably a pick-up. The light quickly escapes, the truck continuing down the road without so much as a tap to the breaks. The light leaves an afterimage floating around your vision, a white streak across the center of your field of view. Blinking quickly, you remove your hands from your face and let out a deep sigh. 

Well, shit. What now? Should you risk moving? Are they far enough away that they couldn’t see movement in the rearview or side mirrors? Is it worth the risk? Or do you wait until they give up, until they turn around and drive past you again? Fuck. You have no idea.

Even if you did start moving, what direction would you go? Back toward the farm? Or closer to the truck? You could go further into the corn, but that simply does not seem wise. For all you know, the field goes on for miles in that direction. You know for a fact that, if you keep going straight, it will eventually end. You turn back away from the road, so that it is once again to your left. Might as well keep your bearings straight, whether you’ll move or not.

From ahead of you, you hear the abrupt scream of worn-down brakes. You suck in a quick breath, not moving from your squat on the ground. Why had they stopped? Had you moved too much? Could they have possibly seen that? You glance upward at the stalks around you, looking for any sign that they had been moving. Besides the gentle sway shared by each stalk, they weren’t moving. Fuck. 

You bring your head down, resting your forehead on your knees and squeezing your eyes shut. Please, please, please, just let them pass. There’s no way they can see you within all of this corn, right? It’s impossible. You try to keep your breathing steady, not wanting to panic more. 

Easier said than done when the next thing you hear is the engine growing closer once more, tearing backwards down the road. Gravel flies off of the road and into the field, hitting the corn with harsh, scraping sounds. The noises only get louder and closer, until the rocks are landing mere feet from yourself. Only then does it stop, the brakes of the truck screeching in protest at the sudden stop once more. 

You lift your head and open your eyes when the engine dies, plunging you into sensory deprivation again. The night is as silent and dark as it ever was, but you know the truck is there. You can’t see it and you didn’t see it before the darkness took over again, but you can feel it. Or, perhaps more precisely, you can feel him. 

Two doors open, followed by the sounds of shoes hitting gravel, revealing the location of the truck in relation to yourself. Directly to your left. The doors slam shut, creaking in the way that old hinges do. A throat clears, and the anticipation for what’s coming nearly makes you fall over.

You stay still, not daring to move even to cover your mouth. You breathe as silently as possible, praying that the expansion of your ribcage isn’t disturbing the corn around you. You hear footsteps start on the road, though it doesn’t sound as if they’re walking toward you. Rather, it sounds aimless, like they’re circling. It’s definitely two people, and it doesn’t take a genius to figure out who they are.

Hongjoong you can feel. His aura is unmistakable, even if your only sense of him is the scrape of his boots on the gravel. And, where Hongjoong goes, Seonghwa follows. 

If there had been any question in your mind whether or not the other set of shoes belonged to Seonghwa, it wouldn’t have lasted for long.

“Princess,” Seonghwa’s voice carries outward from the road, “I’ll ask you nicely, just once. Come out now, please.” 

You hear him walk from a place that seems closer, stopping at what sounds like the edge of the road.

“I’ll even count,” he offers, his voice sounding as if he’s angled his head away from your hiding spot. “How does that sound? I’ll count to five. If you don’t follow my voice out of that field, I won’t be so sweet when I find you.”

Seonghwa starts walking then, his voice getting farther away. “One…”

Instead of thinking of a plan, you think of Hongjoong. Where is he? You strain to hear for the other set of footsteps that you know must be there, but you only hear Seonghwa, “Two…” There’s no chance you’re leaving your spot. No matter what the punishment will be, it can’t be worse than knowing you willingly went back with them… Plus, there’s still a chance you get out of this, right? Still a way to get rid of them?

But what if they do? What about Hongjoong? He wouldn’t let Seonghwa hurt you, right? Your stomach twists as you wonder if Hongjoong’s opinion of you has changed because of the situation. Is he mad? Had you ever seen him mad? Is he one of those people with a completely uncontrolled temper? Maybe he wants to kill you himself, nevermind letting Seonghwa do it. You don’t have the capacity to question why you suddenly care about Hongjoong’s opinion.

“Three…”

Your heart is beating so hard in your chest that you swear it should be audible, giving away your position. Where the fuck is Hongjoong? Why can’t you hear his footsteps?

Seonghwa’s voice is only getting farther away, “Four…”

You wish Seonghwa would shut up. He’s counting like a mother, the way they count when they want you to do the right thing when you’re misbehaving as a child. It’s probably his point, to humiliate you by comparing you to a child. You don’t care about his motivations, instead you strain to hear Hongjoong, but you can hardly hear yourself think over the thrumming of your heart in your ears.

“Four-and-a-half.” Now Seonghwa exemplifies a mom. 

You remain planted in your spot, though your thighs are starting to burn from the squatting position. No chance. 

“Five.” It’s Hongjoong’s voice this time, and you’re surprised by the relief you momentarily feel. “You’re really going to make us go in there, (Y/n)?” His voice is clearly coming from outside of the field, in the direction of the road. You’re startled by this, realizing that you had half expected Hongjoong to be sneaking up on you.

Hongjoong’s voice is hard. And your stomach rolls as you realize that he must be mad. Had he ever used that tone with you? Moreover, you’re struck by the sudden guilt you feel. What is there to feel guilty about? Nothing, absolutely nothing. And yet… the familiar twinge whirls in your chest, mingling with the anxiety already present; enhancing the feeling. 

“I can see you, you know.” 

It’s a statement, not a question. You can clearly picture Hongjoong’s face, just off of the tone of his statement. He’s lacking his characteristic smile, the ghost of a frown forming as though he doesn’t want to reveal what he’s truly thinking. But you can tell, just from his voice, you’ve fucked up. 

Your knees are starting to burn from your prolonged squat. Your feet have practically disappeared into the soil, and half of you wonders how much longer you plan on hiding. They’re clearly going to find you, it’s just a matter of time. At this point, you’re just wasting your own time. And don’t you feel bad for making Hongjoong upset? Can you make it up to him if you come out? Would that fix things?

… Where the fuck did that come from? You resist the urge to smack yourself upside the head. You do not care about Hongjoong’s feelings. You do not care if he’s mad at you, you do not want to make it better. You have absolutely no desire to reveal yourself, and this is not a waste of time. You hope.

Seonghwa sighs. “You’re such a spoiled brat, (Y/n).” He sounds more annoyed than anything, a contrast to the coldness of Hongjoong. “It’s too fucking cold for this.” Seonghwa mumbles after, probably more to the other man than to you. 

After a few seconds, his voice comes again, only much, much closer. “I’m not playing anymore, I’m getting you and we’re leaving.” His sentence is punctuated by the shuffling of corn stalks, as he enters the field to your left.

For a moment, you’re frozen, waiting to see if he’s bluffing. How the fuck could they possibly know your position? There’s no way.

Unfortunately, only a few seconds pass before you’re forced into action. Too quickly, you start seeing flashes of Seonghwa through the stalks. You quickly jump up, your legs crying in protest at the sudden change in posture.  You barely feel it, though, as you’re instead struck by the sensation of the towel in your pants. Or, more plainly, the knife in the towel in your pants. The towel brushes against the skin of your back, the textured surface rubbing you almost raw. The pain of the friction burn doesn’t stop you for a second before you reach behind yourself to grasp for the towel. 

You easily find the handle through the towel, grabbing it solidly and pulling it out of your waistband. You hastily unwrap the weapon from the towel, discarding it as soon as the knife is free. 

Rather than wait for Seonghwa, you start moving. You hope in the direction that is parallel to the road, the original direction that you had traveled, but your sense of direction is confused now. You try to not rush, not wanting to fall and accidentally stab yourself. Wouldn’t that be a funny little joke from the universe? Seems like something that would be just your luck.

You move, but it’s too slow. You quickly can hear the stalks behind you snapping apart as Seonghwa tears through them. He clearly has less of a regard for the field than yourself, pushing the stalks as loudly as he wants. You know that he must be able to see you. 

“Isn’t this a fun surprise?” He calls out behind you, “She has a knife, Hongjoong!” Seonghwa laughs, slightly out of breath from the exertion of pushing through the field. 

You hear a scoff from somewhere ahead of you. “Is that so.” Again, he’s not asking.

Too late, you realize that you’re approaching the edge of the field. You see the truck, and, perhaps worse, you see Hongjoong leaning against the hood. And he’s already looking at you. He looks just as plain as you had imagined, his face completely devoid of emotion.

You turn your head back to get a sense of where Seonghwa is, but he’s already practically on your ass. No way out… besides, well, out of the field. 

Stepping onto solid ground, you’re able to rush out much faster than you had been able to go in the soil. The ground feels great for your sore ankles, but you can’t say that being out in the open does much else for you.

You come out onto the road about fifteen feet from Hongjoong, who's still leaning against the truck. Seonghwa quickly pushes out of the corn as well, though he bends at the waist to rest his hands on his knees as he breathes deeply. 

You look back at Hongjoong, raising your hand clutching the knife. You bring your other hand to the handle, trying to stabilize the shaking blade. “Stay away from me.” You try to sound menacing, like you could theoretically do some damage, but it doesn’t come out menacing at all. Instead, your voice shakes almost as much as your hands are, barely coming out louder than a whisper. 

Hongjoong glares at you, not moving from his spot. “Get in the truck, (Y/n), now.” 

You shake your head, catching Seonghwa moving towards you in your periphery. You swing your hands to the side he’s approaching from, pointing the blade between the two of the men in front of you.

“I’m not going back.” You say, your voice coming out stronger this time. Your hands are still shaking, but your feet are strongly planted into the ground.

Hongjoong lets out a deep breath, bringing a hand up to rub at his forehead. “I’m not going to ask you again. Get in the fucking truck.”

Seonghwa tries to grab for you as you’re paying attention to Hongjoong, but you spot him just in time. You swing toward him, hoping that it scares him off enough. Seonghwa quickly has to take a few steps backward, but then he’s on you again.

He reaches out, grabbing your wrists tightly in his hand. Locking his arm, he’s easily able to stop you from being able to reach him with the blade at all. You still try turning your wrists, but the hold proves to be too tight, at too extreme of an angle. 

Seonghwa pulls you to him, wrapping his free arm between your arm and your body, pulling one of your elbows behind your back as you hit against his chest. The motion is fluid, all at once, and it causes you to lose your hold on the knife. It clatters out of your hands, bouncing once, twice, and then resting on the gravel road. Seonghwa swiftly drops your hands so that he can wrap your other arm behind you as well. 

You stare at the knife on the ground, wondering how Seonghwa had done that so quickly. His breath is warm by your ear, as he’s panting ever so slightly. He has you pulled tight against him, and you can feel his strength easily. You still try to fight against his hold, wriggling your chest and bending your legs in any attempt to sneak out of his grasp.

To no avail, however. You look at Hongjoong, who's still a considerable distance away. Despite the space between you two, and despite the heat of Seonghwa behind you, his gaze sends a chill down your spine. 

“Like I said. I won’t ask again.” He states, tipping his head back towards the truck. You expect Seonghwa to simply start pushing you forward, but he doesn’t.

He remains still. “The choice is yours, princess.” He whispers, still soundly slightly out of breath from the ordeal. 

You pull with your arms, attempting to get Seonghwa to let go of you. “Let me go, then. I’m not getting in that truck.”

“Fine.” Hongjoong crosses his arms across his chest, his expression unchanging. “Seonghwa, get rid of her. And do it quickly, please, I’m fucking exhausted.” He turns away from the two of you, moving to get back into the truck.

It’s like you can hear glass shattering in your mind. “What?” You say, almost crying out. “No, no,” You apparently had been disillusioned. Hongjoong is pissed. You made him mad and now he doesn’t care whether you’re alive or not. But this can’t be the way you die, seriously. You angle your face in an attempt to look at Seonghwa, hoping to plead to him, but you can hardly see his face. “You can’t, you can’t just, just—”

Hongjoong freezes ahead of you. “I can’t what? Kill you?” He turns on his heel to face you and Seonghwa again, tilting his head in question. “Why is that? Enlighten me.” 

Your face twists as you try and piece together an argument. “You, you said that, that if you wanted me dead, that I would be already!” You don’t know why your mind picks that conversation as the one to use to defend your life. “Aren’t I,” you pause, not sure that you want to say it out loud, “aren’t I one of your favorites? Don’t you want me?” The question tears out of you before you can stop it, tears welling in your eyes. 

You wish that Hongjoong’s face would change. That his expression would crack and his stupid little smile would appear. But it doesn’t. “My favors change rather quickly when someone becomes more trouble than they’re worth.” He looks down at his feet, brushing some rocks out of the way with his foot, staying silent for a moment.

After a beat, he points to the ground in front of him. “Come beg,” he looks back up at you, “If it’s good enough, maybe I’ll let you come back.”

He nods at Seonghwa, and his grip is quickly off of you. You stumble forward from the sudden lack of support, your mind spinning with the choices in front of you and the absolute onslaught of emotion coursing through you. Hadn’t you, just minutes earlier, thought that dying would be better than going back? Why do you feel so guilty? Tears are running down your cheeks now, though the only way you can tell is from the cool night’s air suddenly blowing colder against your face. You feel nauseous and anxious, confused and conflicted.

You don’t want to go back. But you can’t die, not like this. You’d rather freeze to death in a corn field than let Seonghwa be the one to end your life. But fuck, Hongjoong is scary. And weird. Beg? He wants you to beg for your life? You turn behind you to look at Seonghwa. He’s smiling. And on guard, ready to grab you if you try anything.

You scan your surroundings, looking for any sort of alternative escape.

But there’s nothing. Honestly and truly, nothing. You can’t even see the main road behind Seonghwa, the road you had been hoping would be coming soon. You turn back to Hongjoong, hoping and praying that he would crack a smile or a smirk or anything that wasn’t the blankness that he had been staring at you with.

But that’s exactly how he’s standing, as emotionless as he had been. His arms are crossed against his chest, waiting. Hongjoong has always been scary, but never like this. He always had a playful lilt, a manipulative smile, some sense of sick enjoyment. But he doesn’t seem to be enjoying this at all.

Fucking hell.

You inch toward Hongjoong, not wanting to move too quickly. You want to prolong this inevitable for as long as possible. Hardly lifting your feet off of the ground, it doesn’t take long for Hongjoong to get fed up with your antics.

He snaps his fingers. “Fuck, you better have something good to say to me; every fucking second it takes for you to get in front of me makes me angrier.”

That puts a bit of pep in your step, making you scurry over to him faster. When you’re a foot away from him, you open your mouth, about to start prattling off whatever comes to mind, when Hongjoong rolls his eyes. He casts his eyes to the ground, making a show of looking between the ground and yourself. 

You take a deep breath, really not liking what he’s insinuating. But, you also don’t want to make him have to say it, which would probably only piss him off further. 

You drop to your knees in front of him, sitting on your heels. You put your hands on either side of your thighs, the gravel digging into your palms as you try and think of something to say. 

Unfortunately, the words escape you. You let a sob escape your lungs as you look up at Hongjoong, who’s steely expression hasn’t changed a single bit. “Please,” you start, coughing a bit over the words. “Please, Hongjoong,”

He blinks down at you. “Please what?”

You clench your hands, dirt going under your nails and rocks scraping against your skin. Your body shakes with another sob, and you’re frankly not even sure why you’re crying. Humiliation, maybe? Guilt? “Let me,” you hiccup, “let me come back.”

You want to take back the words as you say them, but you can’t bring yourself to stop them from flowing. “I’m sorry I made you upset. I’m so sorry, Hongjoong.” You wish he would reach a hand out to you, touch you in any attempt of comfort or punishment. “Please, just, please let me, let me make it up to you. Let me back, please. I’m sorry.” You cry, the words burning your throat as you speak them. 

You don’t mean it. You don’t. 

Blinking your tears away, you attempt to focus on Hongjoong’s face again. You can’t read anything from his expression, not a single thing. You open your mouth to let another plea out, but he cuts you off before you can start. “Get in the fucking truck.”

Another sob wracks through you, though this is one of relief. You push yourself off of your knees, shakily standing. You brush the rocks that had embedded in your hands off, quickly moving around Hongjoong to reach for the door. 

The door swings open with a monstrous creak. You scramble into the cab, wanting to be safely inside before Hongjoong can change his mind. There’s only two seats, so you just position yourself on the center console. Not like there’s any cops here that can pull you over for not wearing a seatbelt. You almost want to laugh.

Hongjoong and Seonghwa are quick to follow, Seonghwa taking the driver's seat and Hongjoong the passenger’s. Hongjoong rolls his eyes as he sees where you’re seated, situating himself in the seat before grabbing onto your arm and yanking you downward. He pulls you onto his lap, an arm wrapping around your waist to hold you steady. You don’t have the energy to try and get him to release you, even though his hold is just as hot and repulsive as always.

Seonghwa looks over at the two of you before starting the truck, taking the time to roll his own eyes. “That was a pretty pathetic display, princess.” He puts the truck in reverse, turning onto the grass at the side of the road to spin the truck around.

The ride back to the farm is silent. Not a single word passes between the three of you as Seonghwa drives back down the road. The cab of the truck is warm, much warmer than outside, and the full body contact you have with Hongjoong is making you even warmer. 

You don’t dare to turn to look at his face. You can’t imagine that he’s feeling much happier, you can practically feel the anger radiating out of his chest. With each bump in the uneven road, he grips your waist harder, squeezing you down to him. You would like to believe that he’s trying to make sure that you don’t hit your head on the ceiling, but it’s probably more likely that he doesn’t want you bouncing and landing hard on his lap. Mingi used to do the same thing.

You launch into the memory before you even realize. There had been many, many occasions where your friend group had needed to fit more than five people in a standard car. We’re talking eight or nine people in a five-seat car. As Mingi was typically one of the tallest people around, he would, naturally, get the monopoly on the passenger's seat. Until he started insisting he sit with you, saying, “If you can’t wear a seatbelt, the next best thing is my arms,” and other shit like that. 

This happened many times, wherein nine people would squeeze into a single hatchback and you’d perch on Mingi’s lap, his arms securely wrapped around you. Never once did you hit your head on the ceiling when he was holding you. Until you had to get out of the car, of course, which typically required you to smack your head on something at least once. Everytime your group would arrive somewhere and a comically large number of people would escape out of the car, you would think about what you must look like to an outsider looking in. A clown car, full of college students. 

If you close your eyes, can you pretend that Hongjoong is Mingi? That you’re back, two years ago, windows down with the night air blowing across your face and through your hair? 

The answer is no. Hongjoong is holding you too tightly, the atmosphere in the cab is too tense, and you’ve probably never felt less safe in your life. You had always felt safe with Mingi.

Too soon, the corn fields break apart and you can see the farm in all of its terrible glory once again. You really hadn’t gotten very far, you realize. The drive had to have been less than five minutes, you probably hadn’t even made it two miles out. The realization makes you want to start crying again. 

Seonghwa drives onto the property, swinging the truck around close to the main building. He stops, but doesn’t park, idling in front of the building. Hongjoong releases you to open the door, not so gently pushing you off of his lap. You stumble out of the truck, hardly managing to land on your feet, and Hongjoong is quick to follow. He slams the door behind him once he’s out, quickly wrapping a hand around your upper arm and moving toward the front door of the building.

You look back at the truck in an attempt to see where Seonghwa is going to take it, but Hongjoong yanks the door open and pulls you in with him before you can get a glimpse. You turn back forward, figuring that you should probably watch as you go up the stairs, which is where Hongjoong is leading you.

You stay silent as you begin the ascent, despite wanting to break the tension between the two of you. You’ve never been comfortable with Hongjoong, but this is something entirely different. You just hope that he’ll lock you in your room again and call it a night. Maybe he’s so pissed that he doesn’t even want to look at you? That would be nice! 

Unfortunately, Hongjoong walks right past your floor, continuing up the stairs. You decide it’s probably better to not ask what’s about to happen, but that doesn’t stop a small whimper from escaping your throat. Fuck.

He only tightens his hold on your arm, picking up his pace as you get to levels of the compound that you had never seen before. When the staircase ends, he turns down the hall. The lights are off and it’s hard to see, but he leads you with a confidence that tells you he knows where he’s going. The two of you come to a stop at the end of the hallway, Hongjoong patting around his pockets looking for… a key, as it turns out. He pulls the key from his front pocket and fluidly twists it in the lock, the door swinging open once he pulls the key out and twists the knob.

Once the door is open, he finally lets go of you. He uses his now free hand to push you into the room, surprising you. You trip over yourself, your knees landing hard on the solid floor. A new vein of pain shoots through them, and you realize that you must’ve scraped them earlier. 

Hongjoong enters the room as well, shutting the door behind him and flipping a lightswitch on the wall with a familiar dexterity. The room is suddenly bright with light; you have to squint to allow your eyes a second to adjust… before realizing that, oh, this is Hongjoong’s apartment. It must be. 

He walks past you as you push yourself to your feet, still not bothering to say a word to you. You awkwardly stand in the entryway, taking in the apartment. It’s not that extravagant, actually. Besides having a living area and a kitchen (more like a kitchenette), it isn’t that much bigger than your own room. There’s a large couch facing a blank wall in the middle of the living area, pillows and blankets stacked abundantly at the sides and over the back. A coffee table rests between the couch and the wall. There’s bookshelves, overflowing with more than just books. Artwork, collectibles, textbooks, regular books, and… pictures. Framed pictures. You can’t make out the subjects, but it still strikes you in your chest for a moment.

Hongjoong was once a child. He has parents and a family, he wasn’t always the way that you’ve known him.

… What the hell are you thinking? Who the fuck cares if he has a family? Not twenty minutes ago, he had told someone to kill you and then made you beg for your life. This is not exactly a situation where empathy is necessary, right? 

As if to prove your point, his voice harshly cuts through the silence in the apartment. “Sit down.” He commands, pointing to the couch. “We’re going to have a conversation.” 

Not seeing any alternative option, you shuffle further into the apartment, keeping your eyes on Hongjoong as you sit in the middle of the couch. He stands between the couch and the coffee table, which you can now see is so covered in papers and books that you can hardly see the wood it’s made of. You almost wish that you could spend some time alone in Hongjoong’s room, snooping through his stuff. He must have some interesting things, no?

You fold your hands in your lap, feeling as though your shakes are coming on again. Hongjoong does not need to see your shaking hands. You stare up at him, trying to gauge his anger. He’s not looking at you, instead scanning the room as if he’s the one that’s never been there before. He rests his hands on his hips, letting out a deep sigh before locking eyes with you.

“Let me ask you something,” he starts, “have you ever thought of anyone but yourself?”

The question takes you off guard, and Hongjoong leaves you no time to respond. “Do you know how many lives you would have ruined if that little escapade had been successful? How many people would’ve had to die? While you might think that I’m some sort of unfeeling, uncaring, sadistic bastard, which— I don’t know, maybe you’d be right— I know I don’t feel the same way other people do; that’s beside the point I’m trying to make.” He shakes his head a bit, as if to clear his thoughts. “What I mean is that I do care about the people here, in my own way. The people that put their faith in what I say. I don’t want them to have to die. Do you want that?”

You shake your head no.

“You could’ve fooled me!” He exclaims, his voice raising. “We have a sensitive system here, and it doesn’t work if someone leaves. If we hadn’t found you, everyone would’ve had to go. How would you have felt, hearing about that on the news? Good about yourself? Do you not care about Mingi? Or the children we have? Would you have been happy to see me dead? Seonghwa?” Hongjoong is yelling at this point, not giving you a second to get a word in. “I cannot tolerate such reckless behavior! You cannot behave like a petulant child anymore. You are lucky that you’re still alive. If you had been anyone else, I wouldn’t have even had to tell Seonghwa to kill you. Do you understand that?”

His eyes are wide, a vein popping in his forehead as he pauses. “Speak!”

You blink, trying to think of a response. You’re almost surprised to realize that you’re not crying. “I, uh, yes?” You think for a second, “Well, no, I don’t. But I guess I understand what you’re saying.”

Hongjoong laughs, then. “What is there to not understand?”

If you weren’t so scared, you might laugh with him. “I still don’t get why you think I’m so special. You don’t even know me.” Your reply comes barely louder than a whisper. “I think I’ve made it abundantly clear that I want nothing to do with this place, which you clearly do not appreciate. So I don’t get what you want from me.”

Hongjoong’s face falls back into an expressionless plain. “Who said I don’t know you?” He shakes his head. “Do you think we invite just anyone to join us? With no planning? No forethought, no investigation?”

Oh. 

Your surprise must show on your face, and Hongjoong must be able to read your mind. He answers you before you can even ask your question. “I know you. You’ll understand that part eventually.” His voice is still hard, but at least he’s not yelling anymore. “Do you understand that you are only alive because of me?”

You slowly nod your head.

“I need you to say it.”

“I’m only alive because of you.” You hold your eye contact with Hongjoong as you say it, not wanting him to find some flaw in your delivery of the sentence.

He nods his head, “And you’re, what?” 

… You try and think of what he wants you to say, eyebrows furrowing. “Thank-ful?” You break the word into two syllables, questioning if that’s what he wants to hear. 

“And?”

And what? You wrack your mind for something the statement is missing. “I’ll make it up to you?”

Hongjoong nods again. “Good enough. I’m glad you understand the gravity of your actions.” 

To your surprise, he squats down to be at your eye level, letting himself drop onto his knees in front of the couch. He quickly reaches for your hands, wrapping them up in his own. “Now it’s my turn to be selfish.” His head falls as he looks at the floor by your feet, staring at your dirty shoes. “Do you know how worried I was? How scared I was that you were gone?” His voice cracks with the word ‘gone,’ and your confusion only grows.

He looks back up at you, and you're dumbfounded to see his eyes sparkling with tears. “I’m sorry for, for yelling and for being mad. And for making you get all dirty, and for making you cry. I’m sorry if I scared you.” Hongjoong squeezes your hands tight in his, pouting slightly.

He rests his chin on your knees, looking up at you through his eyelashes. “Please forgive me, please (Y/n), understand. I was so relieved when I saw that you were okay.” He pulls your hands closer to him, pressing a kiss to your knuckles. “It hurt me so much to have to treat you like I did. Do you forgive me?”

You nod before you can stop yourself. You’re so shocked by the scene that you can’t even question your reactions.

Hongjoong squeezes his eyes in relief, tears dripping down his cheeks. “Please… st-stop crying.” You stutter out, the sight of Hongjoong crying being way too much for your overwhelmed and exhausted brain. You pull a hand out of his to place on his head, awkwardly patting his hair. 

“Can I,” he leans into your touch, “can I hold you?”

Again, you’re agreeing before you even realize it. Genuinely, politely, what the fuck is happening? This whole scene feels like a dream, and you vaguely wonder if maybe you had fallen asleep somewhere. There’s no way this is actually happening, right?

Hongjoong quickly stands once again, pulling you to stand with him. Once you’re off the couch, he lets go and easily flops into a lying position, turning to his side and holding an arm open for you. You stand there, blinking at him, for a few seconds. 

Is this really a dream? In what universe would you willingly let Hongjoong be your big spoon? 

Hongjoong blinks up at you, a whine rising from his chest.  Yeah, definitely a dream. Hongjoong just whined. 

You shake your head to yourself as you turn your back to Hongjoong to lay down. He quickly wraps an arm around your waist, pulling your back flush against his chest. His breath tickles your neck as he wiggles his face closer to you. 

You close your eyes, allowing yourself to be comfortable. If it’s a dream, then there’s no harm in snuggling up with Hongjoong… Right… The most harmful thing about it would be the psychoanalysis of yourself that you’ll have to do when you wake up. If it’s not a dream… then you’ll deal with it later. You’re too tired to do anything, anyhow. Assuming it is a dream, you reach for Hongjoong’s arm around your waist. You rest your hand over his, weaving your fingers together.

He sighs, his warm breath blowing over your neck. “You know that I would never let anyone hurt you, right? That I would never hurt you?” He whispers the questions.

You make an affirmatory noise in your throat, not having the energy to think about the questions. 

“You will always be safe with me.”

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THE ANSWER: Stupid Whore

Kim Hongjoong doesn’t like the word ‘cult.’ He prefers ‘sect.’ pairing: ateez x fem reader genre: cult au, thriller, angst check warnings on AO3

← previous || next → || masterlist chapter word count: 2,482

 “I’m only going to say this once, Hongjoong. If I find her out there, in my fields, I’m getting rid of her. End of story.” Jongho spits, his arms crossed over his chest.

Hongjoong chuckles at the outburst, “You won’t find her out there. Even if you did, you wouldn’t dare.” The smile falls off of his face. “I let you get away with a lot, Jongho. I give you free reign to do essentially whatever you want. But you will not touch her. That is final.”

Jongho rolls his eyes, huffing at the command. “Whatever. I bet she’ll run within the next day. Watch her, Hongjoong, because I don’t care what you say. I will get rid of her if I find her. That girl is more trouble than she’s worth.”

“What is your vendetta against (Y/n) for, anyways?” Wooyoung asks, genuinely curious. “She’s not that bad.”

Seonghwa scoffs. “As if he needs a reason. I’m with Jongho, she’s going to run soon.”

Wooyoung shakes his head, looking across the room at Seonghwa. “No way, I give her another week. She’s too smart to try anything before thinking it through.”

Yunho nods, agreeing with Wooyoung. (Y/n) has been nothing if not careful. 

Hongjoong stands up, gathering the attention of everyone. “I don’t care when she runs, I care what happens after. If any of you,” he looks between Jongho and Seonghwa, “harm her, I will not be so lenient as I have been in the past.”

Silence falls over the group, taking in Hongjoong’s word. Who knows what his little obsession with (Y/n) means, but no one senses any warm and fuzzy feelings behind it. 

.・。.・゜✭ ⧖ ・.・ ⧖ ✫・゜・。.

From the entryway of the cafeteria, Yunho watches as (Y/n) less than cautiously pushes the door to the kitchen open. She stops dead in her tracks as soon as she sees him, and Yunho has to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling. He watches as the cogs turn in her head, watching her realize the severity of the situation. 

Surprisingly enough, she starts off toward his direction.

“(Y/n)?” Yunho tilts his head in feign ignorance. “What are you doing up?”

Even more surprising, she smiles as she bustles toward the doorway. “Just forgot something down here earlier, that’s all. I’ve really gotta go to bed now, though. See you tomorrow!” She exclaims, not stopping as she brushes past him to get out of the door.

Well, damn. Jongho wins the bet.

Yunho remains in the doorway of the cafeteria, turning to watch (Y/n) practically sprint down the hall, clearly not realizing (or maybe not caring) that he can see the towel sticking out of her pants. It doesn’t take a genius to put two and two together.

Yunho sighs, looking to the ceiling as he swipes his hand across the light switches to turn off the singular light that had been turned on. Unfortunate . If it hadn’t been on, he wouldn’t have even looked in the cafeteria. 

He stands in the doorway for a moment longer, weighing the options in front of him. On one hand, he could let her go…

No. It might be kind of funny to watch the events unfold, but Hongjoong would be pissed if he found out that Yunho knew and said nothing. And probably not just ‘pissed-but-will-get-over-it’ pissed, but more like ‘marked-for-Ascension’ pissed. Plus, Jongho sounded pretty serious, despite Hongjoong’s warnings… And Yunho doesn’t want her dead, really. 

Yeah, it would probably be best to not let her be found out there by Jongho. He could definitely make it look like an accident, but Hongjoong would still be fuming. He can only let that creepy bastard away with so much, and such a clear violation of orders… Yunho doesn’t want to see Jongho dead, either.

Sighing once more, Yunho sets off down the hall and to the stairs. When he rounds the corner to the front door, (Y/n) is nowhere in sight. Had she gone outside? Or gone back to her room, abandoned her plans? Tsk tsk. How sloppy. Yunho had really thought that she would be much too careful to try anything within her first week of relative freedom, but apparently not. What is she so desperate for?

Yunho begins the trek up the stairs, not concerned with the volume of his steps. He rounds the corner multiple times until reaching the final level of the building. Of course Hongjoong has his apartment on the top floor. Where else would he be, down with the plebeians? Nooooo. 

He walks to the end of the hall, stopping at the very last door. He knocks without hesitation. “It’s me,” he calls through the door.

Standing in front of the door, he hears some vague shuffling from inside the room before being greeted by a disheveled Seonghwa swinging the door open. “Do you need something?” He asks, brows furrowed. 

Yunho rolls his eyes. “To talk to Hongjoong.”

Seonghwa looks at Yunho in exasperation. “About…?” 

Yunho offers a sarcastic smile as he pushes past Seonghwa to get into Hongjoong’s apartment. Seonghwa doesn’t do much to stop him, merely muttering something about ‘tall people’ from behind him. 

The apartment is just as Yunho remembers. Clean, but not empty. Cluttered, but not overwhelmingly so. “(Y/n) is running.” He says as he turns the corner to the single bedroom where he assumes Hongjoong will be. 

He’s correct, and Hongjoong is already sitting up in bed, a frown falling onto his face at Yunho’s statement. His long hair is sticking flat to his face, which is slightly flushed with sleep. He rubs his eyes, asking, “Are you sure?” 

Yunho takes in the sight of Hongjoong as Seonghwa rounds the corner as well, pushing past Yunho to flop down onto the bed. This certainly isn’t the first time that Yunho has seen Hongjoong disheveled, but it doesn’t get any less… disturbing with time. Hongjoong, their sadistic leader with little regard for anything but himself… is just a person. A person that sleeps and wakes up with messy hair. Maybe that’s a treacherous thought to have, but its true. As if to prove Yunho’s point, Hongjoong stretches his arms out to his sides, resting a gentle hand on the top of Seonghwa’s head as his hands come back down. 

A small smile passes across Seonghwa’s lips. “Hah. What did Jongho and I say? She’s not very bright.” 

Hongjoong opens his eyes wider at Seonghwa’s comment, suddenly looking more awake. Yunho watches the fingers on Seonghwa’s head tense as if to squeeze, but it doesn’t come.

Realizing Hongjoong is still waiting for an answer to his question, Yunho nods. “I just caught her in the cafeteria, leaving the kitchen with a towel tucked in the back of her pants.” 

Hongjoong sighs, his free hand coming up to rub his forehead. “Damn it.”

“We don’t have to go after her, you know.” Seonghwa mutters. “We could just let Jongho find her.”

Hongjoong’s gentle hand leaves Seonghwa’s hair, and a resounding smack echoes through the room. Yunho stifles a gasp as he watches Hongjoong’s palm strike Seonghwa, the violent action a stark contrast to the scene of moments earlier. Hongjoong looks fully awake now, his face no longer flushed and his aura returning to that of a leader. “How many times do I have to fucking tell you, Seonghwa?” He spits as Seonghwa scrambles to sit up on the bed, his palm glued to the side of his face as he looks at Hongjoong in abject horror. “You’ll fucking respect her. You know how important she is. I won’t tolerate you continually acting as if she’s going somewhere.”

Seonghwa blinks his wide eyes at Hongjoong, scoffing as he drops his hand. “I find it hard to believe you’re choosing her over me.” His cheek is a searing pink, and Yunho wonders if this is a regular occurrence for them. Certainly, the argument seems like it is. 

Seonghwa’s jealous comment only serves to make Hongjoong angrier. “Really, Seonghwa? Really? I’m not choosing anyone over anyone. I don’t have to. I am God. You’re lucky to even be sitting on my bed, you stupid whore.” The insult rolls off of his tongue as if he’s been waiting to say it, wanting to inflict the pain and the weight of the words.

Seonghwa bites his lip, casting his gaze to the floor. Yunho tries to act like he doesn’t notice the tears welling in the older man’s eyes, despite watching Seonghwa’s shaky hands swipe his cheeks more than once. Could there be something more averse, something more against nature than watching Park Seonghwa shed tears?

Yunho clears his throat, sincerely believing that the two of them forgot he was standing in the room. “So… What should we do about (Y/n), then?”

Hongjoong’s eyes pry away from the back of Seonghwa’s head to lock with Yunho’s. “We go get her, obviously. Did you see her leave?” In his periphery, Yunho can see Seonghwa turn to face him, waiting for his response as well.

Yunho scratches the back of his neck, breaking eye contact with Hongjoong. That dude is much scarier when he’s angry. “Not exactly.”

“Well go fucking check.” Hongjoong snaps, quickly making a shooing motion towards the door of the room. “I’m not going to go run around outside only for her to be safe and sound in her bed. You should’ve checked before even bothering us.”

Yunho decides that replying with words would probably be a bad idea, instead opting for a curt nod and a quick turn. He easily maneuvers himself out of the apartment, shutting the door as gently as possible behind himself. A shudder passes through him as he begins walking toward the stairs. Literally what the fuck was that whole scene?

Yunho knew that Hongjoong was prone to violence, of course, he had been victim to it first hand. But he had never thought that that behavior would extend to Seonghwa. Hadn’t they been together for years ? Why would Seonghwa put up with that? Was that a regular thing or has Hongjoong merely just become violent with him when it comes to (Y/n)? With Seonghwa’s reaction, it certainly didn’t seem usual. Had Yunho ever seen Seonghwa shed tears before? Had he ever seen him express an emotion that wasn’t anger or sadistic joy? 

Whatever, it’s not any of his business, anyways. Who cares if Hongjoong is just as abusive to Seonghwa as he can be to everyone else? Seonghwa isn’t exactly a choir boy, either.

Once he’s downstairs, Yunho makes his way to (Y/n)’s room. The same room that he had brought her bags to not so long ago; where he had met her for the first time. 

He is typically of the sincere belief that anyone stupid enough to come to a remote farm in the middle of nowhere under the guise of it being a ‘commune’ deserves to be held hostage by a murderous cult, but (Y/n) seems to be an honest enigma in that department. She definitely isn’t stupid, but, honestly, who the hell can fall for that bit?

It took her quite a bit to catch on, too. Some people show up and immediately try to high-tail it out when they catch sight of all the red flags. Of course, they’re dealt with, and it would probably be in their favor to simply stay… but Yunho admires a sense of self-preservation. Which is why (Y/n) is so confusing.

She clearly isn’t going to fall for Hongjoong. She’s made that abundantly clear. But why would she try to run so soon? How could she possibly think that this is the best time? Taking literally one of the first opportunities she can get? She’s supposed to be smarter than that.

By the time Yunho reaches her room, he’s worked himself into an annoyance. How could such a bright person be so plainly stupid ?

He opts to knock on her door, hoping that she’ll be inside; hoping that seeing him had scared her off of her plans. When there isn’t any noise behind the door after a few seconds, he knocks again, harder. 

When, again, there is nothing behind the door, he calls out, “(Y/n)? Are you okay?” Trying his best to sound nonthreatening. If she is in there, she probably won’t open the door for anyone, let alone Yunho… but it’s worth a shot. “Listen, I haven’t told anyone that I saw you… Can you please open the door?” 

He pauses, holding his face close to the door, straining to hear inside. When, still, there is no sense of life at all, he decides to try for the handle.

The door swings open easily, and Yunho feels his annoyance grow as he takes in the empty room in front of him. God damn it. 

For good measure, he takes a couple steps inside in order to look underneath the bed. Surprise, surprise, she isn't there.

Grumbling, Yunho throws his head up to the ceiling again, wondering why it’s him that has to tell Hongjoong that his newest obsession is gone. Seriously, of all the people in this building, it had to be him? Of course, there are only so many people allowed out after curfew, so that significantly slimmed the pool of possible people, but still . What a pain in the ass. 

Yunho hastily makes his way back up the stairs and back to Hongjoong’s apartment. He brings his hand up to knock on the door before deciding that it’s probably not necessary… probably. Hopefully they’re not fighting. Or worse.

Yunho opens the door and invites himself inside, attempting to make an obnoxious amount of noise as he walks in, just in case. 

Thankfully, Seonghwa is sitting on the couch in the living room while Hongjoong paces behind him. Seonghwa stares at the ground in front of him, wearing an unreadable expression. Hongjoong still looks plainly mad. When he sees Yunho, he stops his pacing, “So?”

Yunho shakes his head, “She’s not there.”

Seonghwa frowns, still looking at the ground while sliding a hand through his hair. “You’re sure?”

“Positive, unless she’s hiding somewhere else.”

Hongjoong reaches for the hem of his shirt, fluidly removing the fabric from himself. “Go get dressed, Seonghwa.” 

Seonghwa stands without reply, making his way out of the main door and (Yunho suspects) to his own apartment. 

“Yunho,” Hongjoong says, turning to face his bedroom. “Get some sleep.” He slams the door to his room behind him, leaving Yunho alone. He quickly turns to leave, not needing to be told twice. But is (Y/n) really worth all of this fuss?

Yunho ponders the question as he returns to his room, wondering when Hongjoong will reveal whatever sick little plan he has in store for her. There has to be something. Has to be.

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THE ANSWER: XVI

Kim Hongjoong doesn’t like the word ‘cult.’ He prefers ‘sect.’ pairing: ateez x fem reader genre: cult au, thriller, angst check warnings on AO3

← previous || next → || masterlist chapter word count: 6,055

As it turns out, you were able to fall asleep again. 

At least, that’s your assumption when you find yourself waking up the next morning. Though you hadn’t previously seen it, there’s a window on the far wall of the infirmary letting in a stream of fresh morning sun. 

On instinct, you reach your arms out to stretch. Horrible idea. As soon as your left arm extends one millimeter outward, a shooting pain stings through your chest. You feel a tug on what you imagine is your bandaged wound, nearly making you whisper a prayer that it hadn’t pulled open. Though you immediately dropped your arm, the pain continues to throb it’s way throughout your chest, readily making itself known. 

What a great way to start the morning. 

You’re not as disorientated as you remember being when you woke up last night, but it still takes a few moments for everything to come back to you. It’s easy to recall the basics of your situation. Farm. Cult. Hongjoong. The usual. Some of the… finer details you had learned only last night take just a few seconds of pondering, but they quickly are recalled as well. 

Though you can’t actually remember kissing Hongjoong… you can remember being told that it happened. Your face squeezes in embarrassment at the thought. What the fuck. Why had you done th- no, better question: why had Hongjoong done that. He was the one that was sober, not you. It isn’t that hard to piece together, you suppose. Hongjoong is a power-hungry psychopath, he thrives off of manipulating people; you are no exception. Ugh, yuck.

That all being said, you’re just a smidgen upset that you can’t actually recall the memory. Not that you want to know what it was like, of course, it would just make things a lot simpler if you remembered the entirety of the night (including the unfortunate parts). It would make things a lot easier to analyze. But, maybe it’s a blessing that you can’t remember it, like, come on, do you really want to remember what kissing Hongjoong was like…? 

No. Gross. 

You shake your head to try and rid yourself of the thought. There were much more pressing discoveries made last night than the fact that Hongjoong kissed you. First of all, Hongjoong apparently stabs (and kills) people on a regular basis! Which makes him kissing you so much wo- stop. Do not think about it.

Anyhow, what the fuck? While you had pondered a few questions why you were falling asleep, that seems like it was so long ago already. How has no one put together the disappearances with the farm? If people are initiated or whatever on a somewhat regular basis… and sometimes they die… shouldn’t the police be somewhat on top of this? Honestly, the disappearances alone should be enough to make them suspicious, but the murders? Truly the icing on the cake.

Anxiety pools in your stomach. This is serious. Deadly fucking serious. This is real life. You are trapped on a farm in the middle of goddamn nowhere with a manipulative psychopath and his devoted followers. And your college best friend. Can’t forget about the reason that you came here in the first place.

You sigh. Do you regret coming for Mingi? As much as you hate the situation, and as much pain as you are in after surviving a genuine murder attempt… no. Especially not now that you know what he’s been through. And the fact that he only came here to get away from you, apparently. So, in a round-about way, its your own fault that you ended up in this situation.

God, your chest hurts. And not in a metaphorical way, either. It aches with the strain you put on it while stretching. Are you still getting pain killers? It sure doesn’t feel like it…

You turn your head to check the status of the bags attached to your IV. The bag labeled “SALINE” still looks quite full… but the other is suspiciously empty.

You wonder whether or not the person outside of the room is still Nayeon. Probably not. If she has the night shift, someone else probably takes care of the day shift. Hmmm…

For a moment, you contemplate calling for someone, but the need evaporates as the door slides open and Mingi pokes his head in. 

There’s a pang in your chest the moment that you realize its him, but you can’t tell whether it’s genuine pain or something else. Before you can think on it too long, Mingi slides the door open the rest of the way and is quick to come to your side.

“How long have you been awake?” He asks, “I’m sorry, I should’ve been here when you woke up.”

You shake your head, clearing your throat before trying to speak. “No, no, it’s completely fine. I’ve only been awake for…” you search your mind for a sense of the time. It doesn’t come very easily… interesting. “Maybe five minutes?”

A sad smile crosses Mingi’s face. “Still.”

Not quite sure how to respond to that, you allow a silence to fall between the two of you. You move to sit up a bit higher to adjust your position, failing to remember your injured left half. As soon as you put weight on your right arm, the pain in your chest intensifies, and a gasp escapes from you as you shift your weight on reflex.

“Hey!” Mingi’s arms immediately shoot out to stabilize your body, his right hand catching your left arm and relieving the pressure off of your side. His left hand catches you at the waist, stopping you from moving any further. “You have to be more careful!”

Under any other circumstances, you would ask if he thinks that he’s your mom. Under these, however, you sigh. “Thank you for catching me.” You look at his hand holding onto your forearm and are nearly shocked at the strength supporting it. He’s holding essentially a fourth of your bodyweight in one hand, something he most certainly would not have been able to do when you two were still in school. “Can you help me sit up more?”

Mingi squints at you. “If you promise to not try and move after I do.” He doesn’t wait for your reply before using his hand at your waist to scootch you further back into a sitting position. 

“Thanks,” you say, waiting for him to move now that you’ve been stabilized. But… he doesn’t.

“Do you feel okay?” He asks, looking intently over your face.

Seriously, what is with people asking you that question? Clearly, you are not okay. Have you been okay for even one second since you stepped foot on this farm? No!

But you know that Mingi genuinely means it. “Well, my chest hurts.” You glance up at the empty bag of acetaminophen.

Mingi’s eyes follow your gaze, and that’s when he releases his grasp on you. He springs backward, pointing at the empty bag. “I will be back in two seconds, promise.”

Mingi disappears out the door at speeds faster than you can ever recall seeing him move in the past. Huh. True to his word, he returns in mere moments, dragging a person that you’re unfamiliar with with him.

“Come on, Seungmin, really,” Mingi gestures to your IV, “Why doesn’t she have any pain management? Do you not remember how much pain you were in when you were Chosen?” He drops his grip on, apparently, Seungmin as they approach your side.

Seungmin gives Mingi some minor side-eye. “Yes, I remember, Mingi.” He moves to go to the same cabinet that Nayeon had searched through last night. “I also took care of you after you were Chosen, if you might remember.”

Mingi rolls his eyes from your side. “Exactly, which included giving me painkillers when I needed them. Can you not do the same for (Y/n)?” 

“What does it look like I’m doing?” Seungmin turns from the cabinet to glare back at Mingi. You can’t tell if they’re actually arguing or if this is some elaborate mean friendship that they have, and frankly you don’t really care. You just know that, the more its talked about, the more your chest aches. 

Seungmin comes back to your side, gripping another bag of (presumably) acetaminophen. “I’m sorry the drip is empty, (Y/n), Nayeon and I switched shifts only a few minutes ago, and she was sleeping when I got here.” He explains, unhooking your line from the previous bag and attaching the new one. “All better.” He glares at Mingi, “Need anything else?” He asks Mingi more than he asks you.

Mingi looks curiously over to you, and you shake your head. “Then I’ll be right outside if you need me.” Seungmin leaves the room, not closing the door behind him.

“That kid drives me crazy,” Mingi crosses his arms, “Is he even old enough to have learned how to take care of sick people? I really don’t think so.”

He did look quite young, in Mingi’s defence. “Do you actually not like him?”

“I didn’t feel one way or another until he left you without treatment, even if only for a few minutes.”

… “It’s fine, Mingi.”

He looks over at you, arms still crossed. “No, it’s not. You’re in pain. And today is important.”

Important? “Why is that?”

“Hongjoong and the others are going to come by and decide where you should work! That is a very important decision! And I’d rather that you were not in pain while it happened.”

And that is very important… why?

But you don’t ask that. Instead, “The others…?”

“Do you remember those people we met the first day you were here? When we went on a tour?” Your expression answers his question. “Uh, Jongho, Yeosang, Wooyoung, and San?”

Ah, there you go. How could you forget? “And Hongjoong and Seonghwa will be there, too. And me. And I guess anyone else that wants to come.”

“They’re coming here?” You ask, wondering if all of these people will be able to comfortably fit in the room without crowding each other.

Mingi nods, lifting his wrist to check his watch. “In only a couple minutes, actually.”

What? How did they even know that you would be awake? Wonderful. This is something that you probably would have liked to prepare for more, but you guess that going into it completely blind could have its benefits as well. Somehow. Maybe.

For the first time, you’re suddenly aware of what you’re wearing. And it’s definitely not that freaky ass outfit Seonghwa made you put on. Instead, it’s the pajamas that you packed with you. The very same pajamas that Seonghwa had teased you about. Lovely. Who dressed you? Who went into your room? 

You don’t know what you want the answer to those questions to be. On one hand, do you trust anyone here to see you in your underwear? On the other hand, do you want to think that it was Mingi that saw you in your underwear? Not quite. Maybe it was Nayeon. She was nice enough. 

Anyways, that is information to be concerned about another time. For now, you need to focus on what is about to happen. You do suppose that the job you’re assigned will have quite an effect on the things that you are allowed to do… so it is an important decision. Will you get any say in it, you wonder?

The silence in your room is soon broken by the sound of a group moving toward it. That was quick.

Seungmin hadn’t shut the door behind him, so the group is able to simply stride right in. 

Hongjoong and Seonghwa take up the lead, talking amongst themselves. Seonghwa sure seems to be in better spirits this morning (not that you care), and Hongjoong seems to be over any outburst that Seonghwa had had.

Following behind them is the group that Mingi had prepared you for. Wooyoung, who you have interacted with quite a lot by this point; San, who you’re still slightly bitter with; and Yeosang and Jongho, both of whom you really have no opinion of.

And there is one surprise guest, Yunho. “What are you doing here?” Mingi asks Yunho when he sees him, a confused look on his face.

Yunho frowns. “I wanted to see that (Y/n) was really awake so that I could stop worrying about you.” He peeks over at you. “Congratulations on being Chosen, by the way!”

You’re left to ponder that sentence while you wait for everyone to find a spot to stand in the room. He wanted to make sure… that you were awake… so that he could stop worrying about… Mingi…? Does that make sense?

Hongjoong claps his hands together, bringing your attention (as well as everyone else’s) to him in a second. “Good morning, (Y/n).” He smiles, “Has Mingi told you what we are going to talk about today?” Hongjoong looks between you and Mingi, who is still standing at your side.

“Uh,” you start, “my job.”

Hongjoong nods his head. “Exactly! It’s always fun to do job assignments, right, Seonghwa?” His gaze shifts to the man at his left. Seonghwa looks about as thrilled to see you as he ever has.

“Very fun.” He deadpans.

Hongjoong gestures to the others in the room, “Why don’t you all introduce yourselves and your positions for (Y/n)?”

“We’ve all met her already.” Jongho says, not bothering to look at you from his spot to your left. His arms are crossed and you’re once again struck by the size of his biceps.

Hongjoong gives a less than genuine smile. “I am well aware, Jongho, but let's recap for her, shall we?”

Jongho lets out a sigh. Clearly, someone besides Seonghwa is also not pleased to be here. “I’m Jongho. I’m in charge of the farms.”

San is standing to Jongho’s left, and he goes next. “Good to see you again, (Y/n).” He smiles, “I’m San and I’m in an administrative role.”

Next to San is Hongjoong, and next to Hongjoong is Seonghwa, so the introductions skip to Yeosang.

“Yeah, good to see you. I’m Yeosang and… I guess you would call me a mechanic.”

Wooyoung is last. “You know me, I’m in charge of the kitchens.”

You offer an awkward smile to each man as they move down the line. What an odd bunch of people to be running a cult, no? You wonder how many of them genuinely believe what Hongjoong is telling them, but you quickly stop thinking about it. Probably each and every one of them. Otherwise, wouldn’t they just leave? It seems to you like they would each have the means to escape if they wanted to… and yet they don’t. So they must be devoted.

Or also Hongjoong’s level of insane, which is much less comforting.

“Thank you,” Hongjoong says, glancing at Jongho, “Was that so hard?”

Jongho opens his mouth to reply, but must think better of it. A tiny smirk graces Hongjoong’s face for a moment before it quickly evaporates, leaving only his usual smile. “Well, who needs a worker?”

“I don’t.” Jongho says almost as soon as Hongjoong asks the question. 

Sheesh. What did you ever do to him?

“Yeah, uh, I don’t really either.” Yeosang gives you a sheepish smile. 

San looks at Wooyoung. “Well, I could take her.” He pauses, looking at Hongjoong. “If you think that’s a good idea.”

Hongjoong shakes his head. “No, probably not for now. Maybe in a couple of months.” Hongjoong winks at you. “Wooyoung,” he turns, “do you need anyone? Or, better question, do you have room for another?”

Wooyoung smiles at Hongjoong, “I don’t see why not!”

Hongjoong looks to you for your approval, “Is that alright with you?”

If you’re being honest, being in the kitchens is probably the place that you would enjoy the most. You are a barista, afterall.

Hold on.

You’re a barista. 

Your job. Your boss. 

You must’ve been reported missing by now. They have to be looking for you. If you really had been out for five days… There's no way your disappearance has escaped anyone’s perception. The police have to be looking for you. Haseul and Jungeun know where you went, at least somewhat. 

But that does raise the question… where are the police? There can’t be that many commune style farms in this general area, right? Surely if Haseul or Jungeun told the police that you went looking for Mingi, whom they (or at least Juneun) knew was living on a commune, there wouldn’t be that many possibilities for where you could be. 

Well fuck. If they’re not here by now, can you really keep believing that they will come? The logical part of you would say no; but now is definitely not the time for logic. This entire situation is against any sort of logic. It isn’t logical to be trapped on a farm with a cult; and yet here you are. Crazier things can happen than it taking a few days for cops to spring into action.

Of course, you have already run circles around this idea. It’s quite possible that they will never come, because it’s quite possible that someone is misleading your friends and family into thinking that you’re okay. You can nearly feel your eye twitch at the memory of giving San your phone so easily.

Mingi pokes your arm, startling out of your thoughts. “(Y/n)?”

“Oh,” you shake your head a bit to clear your previous train of thought. “I guess.”

“Great,” Jongho says, looking at Hongjoong, “Can I leave?” Hongjoong waves his hand, ushering Jongho to go. He quickly takes heed of Hongjoong’s action and leaves about as fast as possible. Seriously, what’s his problem?

As if Jongho had never been there at all, Hongjoong doesn’t skip a beat. “Typically the Chosen only stay in the clinic for a few days after they wake up,” he glances at Mingi, “but something tells me you’ll take a little longer to get on your feet.”

Mingi looks between you and Hongjoong. “Why are you looking at me?”

Seonghwa rolls his eyes at Mingi’s question, and seemingly really sees you for the first time since he entered the room. His eyes land on your torso, smirking as he realizes what you’re wearing. “Nice to see you in those cute pajamas again, princess.”

You frown at him, neglecting to give him the response that you know he’s looking for. Instead, you look over to see Mingi’s reaction to your nickname. His mouth is slightly agape, like he’s trying to think of something to say, but can’t quite grasp a response. 

Not wanting Mingi to say something that he might regret, you jump in. “I’m surprised you remember them.”

Seonghwa raises his eyebrows. “How could I forget that wonderful night we had?”

That gives you pause. Why did he have to say it like that? Your face scrunches in disgust as a smile spreads across Seonghwa’s face. You hazard a glance toward Mingi again and are not surprised to see that he looks even more flustered, his eyes wide as he stares at Seonghwa. Yunho wears a very similar expression, except he’s looking at you rather than Seonghwa. 

Yeosang clears his throat from the other side of the room, but it sounds more like a choked laugh. “Sorry, sorry,” he starts, bringing a hand up to pat his chest a bit, “frog in my throat. Excuse me.” Yeosang continues hitting his chest and poorly attempting to cover his laughter with coughs as he leaves the room. 

Wooyoung doesn’t seem to be as privy to the joke. “Uh, yeah. I should probably get to preparing lunch.” He looks expectantly around the room, as if waiting for someone to tell him to not leave. “Well, I’m looking forward to working with you, (Y/n)!”

Wooyoung grabs Yunho’s arm as he walks past him, pulling the larger man out with him. Yunho waves to you as he disappears around the corner with Wooyoung.

San, who has been very quiet during this entire encounter, suddenly seems to be very aware of the situation. “I’ll get going then, too.” He smiles at you once more. “Like I said, good to see you again, (Y/n).” 

San leaves, leaving only Mingi, Hongjoong, Seonghwa, and yourself. Seonghwa is still smirking at you, Mingi still looks incredibly flustered, and Hongjoong is… well, Hongjoong. Smiling his same, creepy little smile. He clears his throat a tiny bit, looking between Seonghwa and Mingi. “Would you two mind giving (Y/n) and I a few minutes alone?”

The smirk quickly falls off of Seonghwa’s face as he pries his eyes off of you in order to look at Hongjoong. The question seems to shock Mingi out of his stupor, however, as his expression goes neutral and he looks over at you. 

You want to shake your head. You don’t want to be left alone with Hongjoong, not for one single second. The mere thought makes anxiety start to pump through your veins. But, before you can communicate any of this to Mingi, he’s letting you know that he’ll just be outside if you need him. 

Seonghwa follows Mingi out as he goes, looking rather conflicted as he does. You want to say something, anything, that will keep one of them from leaving the room. But you can’t get anything out, and Seonghwa slides the door shut behind him, leaving you and Hongjoong completely alone. You continue staring at the closed door, not wanting to acknowledge the new situation that you’ve found yourself in.

Hongjoong moves from his spot at the end of your bed, coming into your field of vision and completely blocking the door so that you’re forced to look at him. His expression hasn’t changed from his usual, cool smile. He takes a couple steps closer to you, resting his hands on the rail support of the bed. “Please, (Y/n),” he begins, bending so that his face is level with your own. “Tell me how you’re really feeling.”

You blink. About a thousand possible responses run through your head. If he wants honesty… “Pretty shitty.”

Hongjoong’s eyebrows squeeze in confusion. “And why is that?”

Once again, you blink at him. What does he want you to say? “Where should I start?” You resist the urge to spit on him, despite him being close enough for you to reach. “For starters, I’m being held hostage by a cult led by some psychopath,” Hongjoong bites his lip to restrain a smile, “that tried to kill me.”

Hongjoong clicks his tongue, shaking his head. “I wasn’t trying to kill you; if I had, you would be dead.” He establishes eye contact with you. “Why would I want to kill you?”

Again, another question that seems very obvious to you. It’s clear that he’s just playing with you, wanting you to say the things that he so desperately needs to hear, apparently. What a stupid game, one that you do not want to play. “Listen, Hongjoong, I don’t know how insane you really are; as in, I don’t know how much of this bullshit you’ve actually convinced yourself is true, but you must know that stabbing someone typically means that you want them dead.”

Hongjoong rolls his eyes. “Come on, (Y/n), aren’t you smarter than that?” He tilts his head to the side, giving you a curious look. “You have to realize that I can’t play favorites, even if I have them.”

What the fuck kind of thing to say is that?

“I can’t treat you any differently than anyone else, that’s not how this all works. You simply have to trust me, (Y/n), you would be dead if I had wanted you to be.” He reestablishes his smile. “You get to know where to aim.” He chuckles. “Anyhow,” he returns himself to his full height, taking his hands off of your bed. “Do you remember?”

You have a feeling you know what he’s referring to, but you’re not going to be the one to say it. “Remember what?”

If you had had the chance to be relieved by the distance he put between you two, Hongjoong quickly took it away. He swoops back in until he’s only inches away from your face, and you’re left having to lean as far back into the wall as possible (which is not very far). He brings his hand up, placing it under your chin and forcing you to look up at him. “Need a refresher?”

You jerk your chin out of his grasp, but he quickly reestablishes his hold. “No, I do not.”

“So you do remember?”

Well, not quite. “I was informed that you kissed me, but I don’t remember it happening.”

Hongjoong’s smile grows. “You were informed wrong, dear.” He pokes your arm with his free hand. “You kissed me.” 

You squint at him, attempting to make the most disgusted face that you can. “I did not. You drugged me.”

He contemplates this statement for a second. “Technically it was Wooyoung that drugged you.” You roll your eyes at that one. “And I can confidently say that you initiated that exchange.”

The urge to start a ‘did not’ ‘did too’ argument is strong, but you ignore it. “Either way, Hongjoong, I was drugged. Meaning I was not in my right mind.”

“What do they say about drunk actions? That they’re sober thoughts?” He casts a quick glimpse to your lips, smiling all the while before returning his eyes to yours. “You’re not leaving anytime soon, (Y/n), might as well enjoy yourself.”

As if he had never been close to you at all, he releases you and quickly takes a few strides back. “There’s nothing wrong with finding me attractive. Everyone does. When you’re able to admit it to yourself, let me know.” 

Hongjoong leaves you with one final wink before sliding the door open and making a quick exit.

What the fuck was that? You know that he was just playing with you, but seriously, what? You? Kissing him? Preposterous. You finding him attractive? Even funnier. 

… Anyways.

Before you can think on that whole exchange for too long, another person is poking their head into your room. Expecting it to be Mingi, you let yourself relax, squeezing your eyes shut with a groan. 

“Don’t be like that, princess.”

Your eyes snap open and you’re immediately at attention once more. Seonghwa shuts the door behind him as he makes his way into the room once again. He stops shy of where Hongjoong had stood, and you’re grateful for the distance he keeps. That man has manhandled you enough for your entire lifetime. “What do you want?”

A small smile graces Seonghwa’s features, but it’s anything but nice. “What do I want?” He crosses his arms behind his back, pretending to ponder your question. “I want you,” he leaves a bit of a dramatically long pause as if he could trick you into thinking that’s what he was going to say, “to stay away from Hongjoong.”

You don’t hesitate to respond. “Gladly. Give me my car keys.”

Seonghwa sucks in a breath. “You are funny, princess, but you know that’s not what I meant.” He pauses again, making you wonder what you’re supposed to say before he starts speaking again. “See, when this situation has happened in the past, and, trust me, it has, I’ve normally just disposed of the issue my own way.” Seonghwa smiles to himself. “And Hongjoong always moves on fairly quickly. But I have the strange feeling that this would be different. So I’m simply warning you now.”

As little as you want to do with Hongjoong, this possessiveness is kind of pretentiously annoying. Who is Seonghwa to tell you what to do? ‘Stay away from him?’ Is this a K-drama? “And what if I don’t?” You ask, simply to see his reaction.

“If you don’t,” Seonghwa takes a step closer to your bed, “I will take care of it. Hongjoong would forgive me eventually. Everyone makes mistakes.”

Oh, he’s serious. 

“So, princess,” he smiles at you with as much malice as you think he can muster, “do you understand?”

Not wanting to speak out of the mild fear that your voice might crack, you nod in response to his question.

“What a good girl.” Seonghwa turns to begin making his way to the door before pausing, “It’s in your best interests to not share this conversation with anyone else, but to remember it clearly.” With that, he leaves.

.・。.・゜✭ ⧖ ・.・ ⧖ ✫・゜・。.

The next couple of days go by without a fuss. 

Your chest is starting to feel better, and Seungmin and Nayeon agree that you’re alright to leave the infirmary whenever you’re ready. They’ve had you up and walking around, as well as weaning you off of your Tylenol. 

As much as you don’t want to even pretend to cooperate with the situation, you are starting to get quite bored with staying in bed all day. The thought of escape is, of course, also quite compelling. You probably would have very little chance of escaping from this clinic room, so you will have to leave eventually. 

Really the only thing that’s been keeping you from saying you’re ready to go for the past couple days is, well, Mingi. He watches you like you’re made of glass and hardly ever lets you leave his sight. He barely leaves you for his meals (and to collect yours), and often makes himself comfortable on the floor of the infirmary. His working obligations seem to have fallen by the wayside, with him mumbling something about Yunho on the occasions when you have asked if he should be working. 

Why he’s acting like you’re going to die any second is beyond you. Unless he knows something you don’t, which you suppose wouldn’t be that implausible, his behavior is almost entirely inexplicable. Sure, you guys were best friends. Sure, there might have (emphasis on the might) been something there. But that was all months ago, and this is the same man that supposedly joined a cult for the express purpose of leaving you behind. 

Honestly, his behavior since your arrival has been, well, erratic and nearly inexplicable. When you arrived, he hugged you and it seemed that he was happy you were there. You two had time together at the bonfire, time that really felt good. Mingi seemed to be himself. But the entire second day had been… off. When you had thought that you would be leaving, he had a complete and total meltdown. 

It brings a lump in your throat just thinking about the way that he was clinging onto your waist, begging you to stay.

Was that really the behavior of your Mingi? With the trauma that he’s been through, you suppose that the extreme reliance on some semblance of his past life makes sense; but you’ve yet to have a mental break like it seems he has. What happened that made Mingi change? 

God, this makes your head hurt. There’s too many questions that will probably never be answered. You can’t very well ask Mingi to tell you about something that he’s probably repressed. You couldn’t bring yourself to make him relive anything that could hurt him, but the curiosity is painful. Even asking Mingi basic questions could bring the risk of upsetting him majorly, which is not something that you will risk putting him through. 

This all is way too fucking complicated. When did everything go so wrong? Was it when Mingi left? When you graduated and couldn’t get a job? When that man had told you his name was Mingi? When you decided to search for Mingi? When you found him? When you decided to go? What’s the furthest back decision that could be to blame for all of this mess? Why had he even left in the first place? None of it makes sense.

Thankfully, a knock at the door of the infirmary stops you from thinking about it any further. Before you respond, the guest invites themselves in and you’re not surprised to see Mingi’s smiling face poke through the door. “Good morning!” He balances a tray in his hand as he shuts the door. “I brought breakfast!”

You smile, happy that he’s in good spirits as it is right now. That’s all you can really hope for; that Mingi stays happy and safe. If one can really be safe in this situation remains to be seen, but you figure that Mingi will be alright barring any terrible turn of events. 

Mingi quickly is at your side, placing the tray into your lap and lingering at your bedside. You thank him for bringing you breakfast, which he is quick to brush off as nothing.

“What are your plans for the day?” You ask him as you start eating, though you essentially know what his answer will be.

Mingi shrugs. “Nothing, really. Is there something that you want to do?”

“Well,” you start, not entirely sure if you want to go ahead with your idea. You pause for a few seconds before deciding that you will simply lose your mind if you stay in this infirmary for even one more day. “I think I’m ready to start working.”

The smile quickly falls from Mingi’s face. You watch as he considers the idea in his mind, his face ever so slightly changing with every new thought you can imagine him having. Finally, his face lands on a very neutral expression. “Are you sure that you’re ready? You feel good enough?” He is clearly genuine in his questions.

You nod, “I’m getting a little stir-crazy, honestly.” Though you mean it seriously, you smile for Mingi’s sake.

Mingi returns your smile. “If you’re sure that you feel up to it, I’ll tell Wooyoung.”

“I definitely am, and Nayeon and Seungmin agree that I am good to go whenever.”

Mingi chuckles a bit, “Yeah, I know. They told me a couple days ago…” He watches your eyebrows twist in confusion, “But I didn’t want to rush you! And you being sick here is a great excuse for me to dump my work on Yunho.” He shrugs, bringing his hands up in a dramatic gesture.

You laugh and Mingi joins you. It’s one of the best laughs that you’ve had in a while, not that that’s really saying much, but it brings you some comfort. Mingi is still Mingi, even if he is a little different. He can still make you laugh and can still make you feel better.

You finish up your breakfast as Mingi tells you about the work that’s being done on the farm, not that he knows all the exact details. Essentially some of the earliest planted crops are beginning to be harvested, but the entire farm still has a bit to go before it’s ready. The livestock are beginning to grow their winter coats as the days get colder and shorter. 

Honestly, you would have never pegged your Mingi as a farmer, but he seems to have a real passion for it now. As terrible as everything around the two of you is, you’re happy that he is able to find simple pleasures out of something so daily and routine as corn and pigs. It’s actually kind of heartwarming for you to watch the twinkle in his eyes as he talks about the farm at large. He seems to be so proud of everything that he has done in participation. 

It makes you wonder if you will have the same sense of accomplishment, but you quickly decide that you won’t. That feeling of accomplishment is the same as the feeling of complacency, and you will never be complacent here. Not if you can help it. 

Once you’re finished, Mingi gathers your tray and leaves, promising to let Wooyoung know of your decision.

While you’re slightly nervous about leaving the (minor) comforts of the infirmary and taking on responsibilities with unknown consequences, you feel good about your decision. Getting out of this room is perhaps the first step to getting the hell off of this farm. 

Which begs the question, how do you plan on escaping? 

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THE ANSWER: XV

Kim Hongjoong doesn’t like the word ‘cult.’ He prefers ‘sect.’ pairing: ateez x fem reader genre: cult au, thriller, angst check warnings on AO3

← previous || next → || masterlist chapter word count: 5,830

Waking up does not come quickly or naturally. It takes fucking forever and it’s a fully fledged, god-dammed work out. 

You’re not exactly conscious of the fact that you’re waking up, but you still feel the pull of the waking world drawing you out of the darkness that feels as though it has been endless. There is effort required to start dragging yourself through those layers. The darkness stretches on in all directions, briefly disrupted by bursts of… something. 

As you become more aware, you realize that the something is, in fact, excruciating pain. Why does it hurt so bad? Why is there so much darkness? The confusion is disorientating, and you let your mind fade away into it once more.

When you’re next aware, it’s because of that pain. That terrible, red-hot pain. It’s not centralized, but rather radiating throughout your being. The pain stabs through your senses, making you much more aware than you desire. You wish you could shy away from it, that you could run out of your skin and put distance between yourself and it. Unfortunately, it sticks with you; your eternal friend. 

The pain makes you more aware of your surroundings. Details begin to come into focus. You realize that you’re dreaming. But you’re also awake. Why can’t you bring yourself to open your eyes? You try, but all that remains is the dark. Honestly, you’re not even entirely aware of yourself, of your body. You’ve come to enough to remember that you are, in fact, a living being with a physical form. At least, that’s what the pain is signalling to you. However, you can’t actually conceptualize this form.

Time passes, but you have no idea how much. Presently, you are finally aware of yourself. While you still can’t manage to open your eyes, you’ve realized the sensation of the mattress beneath your back. You can feel a blanket resting on your chest, a steady and welcoming weight evenly distributed over your body. Your fingers are cold. You can hear a steady drip, drip drip. 

You can actually hear more than simply the drip, you realize. It takes a fair amount of effort to focus your brain onto the topic of processing the information, but you begin to be aware of voices. People! Relief rushes over you, relief that you hadn’t known you had needed. The knowledge that there are people with you, people watching over you, people taking care of you. 

If only you knew who the voices belonged to. Or what they are saying. Is it only one, or are there multiple? It’s impossible for you to say. The effort of processing the noises was already too much for you. You’re not going to bother to figure that out. 

With this new, comforting knowledge, you let yourself drift off once more.

.・。.・゜✭ ⧖ ・.・ ⧖ ✫・゜・。.

Oh, oh fuck. You’re aware again. The pain is back and worse than ever. You try to move, try to wiggle, try to run away, try to do anything to provide some sort of relief. It seems that you are still too weak, however. You can’t move and the pain does nothing to subside. Though it was once uncentralized, now it definitely is. The area below your left shoulder is on fire. It’s burning. With every beat of your heart, it spreads throughout your chest. It’s almost relieving, right up until the next second, when your heart beats again. The pain is completely incomprehensible. It doesn’t have any rhyme or reason to it. 

Why the fuck does it hurt so bad? What happened? You rack your mind in an effort to understand why, but nothing comes. Fuck, if you’re going to be in so much pain, you should at least get to know why! 

This is unfair. How can you be in so much pain without understanding? You have a sense that, in the back of your mind, you do know why you’re in pain; but you can’t quite reach the memory. It frustrates you further, almost amplifying the pain with your anger. Without quite realizing it, a groan comes from deep in your throat, so deep that it nearly rings through your chest. 

Only a few seconds later, you become aware of a vice grip on your left hand. Whoever is grabbing you must be trying to crush your fingers to distract you from the pain in your chest. Whether or not you want to thank them or groan again is a question for another time. 

You recognize that these new sensations are a blessing of a sort. The new feelings mean that you are nearly there, or, at least, you feel like you’re nearly there. Back to the world of the living. Your ears had been shut off once again, it seemed. You’re quite suddenly aware of them working once more, as they’re quickly overwhelmed with new information.

There are definitely multiple people talking, you can tell that for sure. There’s someone close to you, on your left. That must be the person holding your hand. Come to think of it, that voice… sounds almost like… 

God, what’s his name? 

Ugh, whatever. It’s unimportant. All that is important is the fact that you at least recognize the voice. You know who it belongs to, somewhere in the recesses of your mind. That alone is a consoling enough fact.

There is also another voice to your right, and you’re sure that you recognize that one as well…

The grip on your hand losens. As if it were a tether, you feel your mind loosen with it.

.・。.・゜✭ ⧖ ・.・ ⧖ ✫・゜・。.

Next thing you know, your eyes are open. With exactly zero effort on your part, they had simply sprung open. There is quite a bit of sensory overload that comes with this entirely new input.

With your eyes open, your mind seems to finally catch up as well. You’re on a farm. You’re in danger. Mingi is in danger. Something bad happened. 

Ah, yes. Of course. How could you forget the lovely new reality that you’ve found yourself in? 

As your mind catches up to your body, you take in as much as you can see. Which, as of yet, is pretty much just ceiling tiles. In your peripheral vision, you can see what looks to be a heart monitoring screen, as well as the pile of pillows that your head is sunk into. The ceiling is white and pocketed. It’s the kind of ceiling that they use inside of a school, with removable squares that open to a mysterious darkness. You wiggle our eyes about, trying to get a better sense of everything around you. 

You can see the edges of your bed, the bars holding your body on the frame. It must be a hospital bed, which would make sense. Not that you can yet quite remember what the fuck had happened to land you in said hospital bed… But the rest of the information that you have gathered makes it add up. Looking to your right, you can barely see the top of a wooden side table. You can see the rim of what you think is probably a glass of water, along with a pitcher beside it. Your throat shrivels up at the thought of the water. How long has it been since you’ve had a drink? Christ, it feels like an eternity.

You decide to test the limits of your waking body by trying to raise your right hand toward the water. Instead of your arm floating into the air as you would expect, your hand barely rises above the surface of your bed. Hey, at least it’s a start!

Speaking of your hands, your left one feels quite a bit heavier than the right. Focusing your attention onto this left hand, you quickly conceptualize the familiar feeling of a hand in yours. It’s not gripping you with as much desperation as the last hand-hold you remember, but you’re willing to bet that it belongs to the same person.

There’s a steady rise and fall of breath coming from your left. Your mystery guest must be sleeping. 

Nevermind the sleeping. Before stopping to consider whether or not this guest needed their beauty rest, you become determined to wake them. You start by wiggling your fingers. It’s kind of hard for you to tell if they’re actually moving, or if you’re just imagining the feeling of it. You sure hope that they’re moving. 

But your guest shows no sign of waking.

You move on to try moving your entire hand. You had gotten your entire right hand to lift off of the bed, so you should be able to do the same with your left, no? 

You don’t have to ponder the no. Your hand lifts ever so slightly into the air, the hand of your guest rising with it. You tilt your hand, making the one atop yours slide into the open air and fall onto your bed. Hopefully that’s enough to wake the visitor, otherwise you’re not sure wha-

Your thoughts are entirely cut off by the guest immediately springing into the air and leaning over your face. You blink once, taking him in in all of his glory.

Mingi stares down at you, eyes weary with sleep and lips slightly parted. His hand is instantly back in yours, gripping each of your fingers so tightly that they feel claustrophobic in his hand. 

Though you’re not sure why, your eyes begin to water the second that the two of you make eye contact. Mingi’s lips part wider and then clamp shut. He’s rendered utterly speechless, it seems.

His free hand appears in your peripheral vision, coming to rest on your cheek. His thumb rubs the area directly below your eye, wiping any wetness that has managed to escape.

You two go on like that, staring at each other, for God knows how long. It feels like all eternity as much as it feels like only a couple seconds. No matter how long it lasted, Mingi, too soon, breaks the silence.

“I will be right back, I promise.” 

His voice is the sweetest thing you can remember hearing. Though the words themselves are not ones you would’ve wished to hear, they still sounded lovely coming from him. He takes his hand off of your face first, and then withdraws his hand from yours. There is slight relief now that your fingers aren’t being squeezed so tightly, but you still wish that he hadn’t let go. Mingi backs out of your line of sight, and you curse the fact that you aren’t sitting up.

You hear his footsteps recede, as well as the sound of a door sliding open and sliding closed. 

Now that you’re alone, truly alone, you gain almost a surreal sense of yourself. The pain that had been so terrible what felt like mere seconds ago had dulled to a (still painful, but) calm throb. It doesn’t feel so unbearable any longer, and you’re left to ponder the question of where the pain had come from in the first place.

It’s on the tip of your tongue, only more like on the tip of your brain. You can feel it looming in your subconscious like a shark in the ocean, but it just will. not. come. Jesus fuck this is annoying. You squint your eyes in an attempt to dig through your memories, but, try as you might, it keeps slipping from your grasp.

True to his word Mingi returns before you can get too pissed off at your inability to recall the memory. He leans over you once again, and asks if you feel like you can sit up. 

You nod before you really think about it. You have absolutely no idea if you’re well enough to sit up or not, but you couldn’t care less at the moment. You sure hope that someone has been taking the time to turn you so that you haven’t developed any bed sores.

Gently, Mingi places a hand under your head and lifts you in order to move your pillows. In this new position, you have approximately one second to comprehend the company that Mingi had brought back with him, and you’re not fond of it. But, before you can dwell on the view for too long, Mingi lays you back down, letting you know that he has to scootch you and that it may hurt a little bit.

A little bit is an understatement. In order to move you up, he has to grab your torso rather forcefully. One of his hands is entirely too close to that source of your pain, though you rationalize that it must be quite far away in reality. Still, it makes the pain reawaken. You groan involuntarily, your face squeezing in effort to get through the waves. 

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” Mingi says softly, biting his lip in concentration. He rests your back onto the pillows that he had adjusted, leaving you… well, almost sitting up. More like leaning up. You can still see considerably more of the room than you originally had been able to, but you have a sense that your back will begin to ache if you’re left in this position for too long. 

Your back is the least of your concerns, however. The most of them is standing at the foot of your bed, grinning like it’s Christmas morning and you’re the presents under the tree. 

It takes about one second for you to realize that Hongjoong is wearing pajamas. “I’ve never been giddier to have been awoken in the dead of night, (Y/n).” Behind Hongjoong stands the least put-together version of Seonghwa that you’ve ever seen. He’s also in his pajamas, and his hair is sticking out in about fifty different directions. You find it ridiculous that Seonghwa had gotten out of bed to visit you as soon as you woke up, but wherever Hongjoong goes… Seonghwa must follow! Despite his haggard appearance, Seonghwa still stares at you with as much spite as usual. 

Hongjoong moves from his spot at the foot of your bed, coming around to the right side. He reaches out with both of his hands to grab yours, but you quickly pull it away, as if on instinct. His grin doesn’t fail, “Don’t be like that, now. This is a happy occasion!” He catches onto your hand as it hangs in the air, pulling it toward him once more. “You’ve been Chosen, (Y/n), congratulations.” You stare in awe as he brings your hand to his lips, kissing your knuckles with a reverence you’ve only ever seen others give him. 

Seonghwa scoffs. As if you want Hongjoong to be kissing your hand right now. You pry your eyes off of Hongjoong to look at him. Seonghwa certainly does not look nearly as thrilled as Hongjoong does. You have a feeling that that man could not care one way or the other if you had lived or died. Honestly, he may have preferred the latter. 

…Hold on. Seonghwa couldn't have cared whether you… lived or died? Where the hell had that thought come from? Had you been close to death? Come to think of it, you must've been. Considering the pain above your heart, the eternity of darkness, and the intense disconnect you had experienced from your body… that must've been the case. But why?

Your eyes fall back to Hongjoong, who is lowering your hand back onto the bed. His gaze flicks up to yours, and it's like a switch flips in your head.

The floodgates open, and you're suddenly remembering details of that night from however long ago. The closet, the story, the food, the… drugs? You must've been drugged. That's the only explanation for the haziness that clouds the rest of the memory. Something else must have happened, you landed yourself in the hospital for Christ's sake. 

You continue to stare at Hongjoong in perplexion as the memories flow back to you. Clearly, you can remember enough to recall that Hongjoong is literally the last person on the entire planet that you want at your bedside. This is his fault, whatever this is. That short bastard.

You must not do the greatest job of hiding your emotions. In your defense, you did just wake up after who knows how long, so controlling your facial expressions is not something that comes as a second nature. “Are you alright?” Hongjoong takes notice of your confusion. “Is something the matter?” 

You can almost hear Seonghwa’s eyes roll. “You act like you didn’t just stab the wretch.” He crosses his arms over his chest, and, if you had been looking, you couldn’t have missed the utter disdain in his eyes.

You imagine that your head and Hongjoong’s turn toward Seonghwa in perfect sync. What did he just say? You quickly turn back to face Hongjoong once more, and you’re surprised to see an entirely new expression on his face. Bewilderment. It’s not very becoming of his image, you decide. “Seonghwa,” He starts, but is quickly cut off.

“Seriously, Hongjoong, is this necessary?” Seonghwa gestures toward Hongjoong’s hand that is still holding yours. “We all went through this, it’s not like she’s special for being Chosen. You don’t have to coddle or congratulate her on anything. This is the bare minimum.”

You definitely cannot help the shock that displays across your features. Has Seonghwa ever spoken to Hongjoong like that? From the look on Hongjoong’s face, you’re willing to bet that he hasn’t. 

Hongjoong is quick to fix his face. As if he had never been shocked in the first place, his attention is quickly back on you. “Don’t take that to heart, (Y/n). It is something worth congratulating. It means that your soul was deemed pure, and that is something very special.” He pats your hand as he says this, smiling all the while. 

Seonghwa scoffs again, and actually turns to leave the room. “I’m going back to bed.”

He slides the door open and silently leaves the room, leaving the door wide open. 

Mingi clears his throat from your left side, and it nearly startles you. You had almost forgotten that he’s also there. “(Y/n) should probably get some more rest, wouldn’t you think, Hongjoong?” He says timidly, looking at yourself rather than at Hongjoong. “I’m sure that you’re tired as well, it is the middle of the night.”

You look from Hongjoong to Mingi, and then back to Hongjoong. Whether Mingi had meant his statements as hints or not, it seems that Hongjoong is going to take them. His smile grows a bit wider, his eyes crinkling into half moons. “How thoughtful of you, Mingi.” He pats your hand once more, stepping away from your side and at last heading toward the door.

Before leaving, however, he turns to look back at you. “Again, (Y/n), congratulations and thank you. I’m not sure what crawled up Seonghwa’s ass and died, but all of us are truly happy with this outcome.” He turns his attention to Mingi. “You should get some rest, too, Mingi. When’s the last time you slept in your own bed?” You peek at Mingi in time to see him flush. “Anyhow, we will speak more in the morning. Goodnight.”

And with that, Hongjoong leaves, shutting the door behind him.

With the party gone, you and Mingi are left alone. When Mingi doesn’t say anything, you elect to speak yourself.

“Wha-” your voice breaks. “What just happened?”

Mingi shrugs his shoulders. “Those two have a strange relationship.”

“Some people might say that we have a strange relationship.”

Mingi considers this for a second. “Maybe. I don’t think we do, though.”

If your chest didn’t hurt so bad, you might giggle. As you have commonly found yourself in the past few… days, you guess, you’re struck by the absurdity of the situation. You followed Mingi to a cult. That seems like a strange enough relationship to you. Also, speaking of absurdity, apparently you had been stabbed! By the looks of things, very close to your heart! And you survived! 

“Mingi,” you start, on a more serious note. “What all… happened? Can you remind me?”

His head tilts to the side in confusion. “You don’t remember what happened?”

You shake your head. While Seonghwa’s little outburst had given you some clarity, you still couldn’t exactly remember. 

“Well, um,” He looks toward the ceiling in what you assume is intent to search through his own memories of the occasion. “What do you remember, exactly?”

You explain to him that you can remember everything up to the end of your meal, but that the rest is too foggy.

“That’s pretty common!” He smiles, “The same thing happened to me, but, don’t worry, the memories will eventually come back! But I’ll still explain a bit. After the Meal, Hongjoong summoned you to him. You kneeled before him, and he completed the Ceremony.”

… And what the fuck is that supposed to mean?

Mingi answers your question before you can ask it. “As in, like Seonghwa said, he stabbed you above the heart. And you were only out for five days, can you believe it? Your soul must be particularly worthy! That’s probably why Hongjoong is so excited.”

Mingi’s nonchalant manner is almost disturbing. How can he say such twisted ideas in such a calm voice? He even seems excited! Come to think of it… 

“Mingi, Hongjoong… stabbed you? At your own ceremony?” You ask, raising your eyebrows. That’s sure what it seems like, given what Seonghwa had said earlier.

Mingi smiles. “Of course,” he grabs the collar of his shirt and pulls it down to expose the upper left side of his chest. Running across the top, a couple of inches below his collar bone, is a moderately sized, healed scar. It has a raised surface that almost compels you to reach out and touch it, but you control yourself. The scar can’t be much bigger than an inch, but it’s significance is great. Mingi had survived a fucking murder attempt. You had survived a murder attempt. What in the ever loving fuck? “We all must go through the Choosing Ceremony to find the good from the bad.”

Now there is a revelation. “What happens if someone’s… soul… isn’t Chosen?” You ask, afraid that you already know the answer.

“They pass on.”

Of course.

“Have you ever seen someone not get Chosen?”

Mingi nods.

Of course. Not only has Hongjoong killed people, Mingi is an accessory. Isn’t that just the absolute cream of the crop? Isn’t that just the sweetest slice of apple pie? Could this place get any better? Ahahaha. 

You have way too much that you need to think about. There’s been so much information gathered in the few waking moments that you’ve had, and you desperately need time to process it all. You don’t think you can get very far, either, with Mingi staring at you like you’re a miracle on legs.

“When was the last time you slept in your own bed?” You ask him, tilting your head like he had moments ago.

He flushes anew. “Uh, well, it’s been a few days, I guess.” He scratches the back of his neck, looking absolutely anywhere besides your face. “I didn’t want to leave, so that I could be here when you woke up.” 

As touching as this is, of course, you don’t have time to ponder the implications of Mingi staying at your side for five days. That is something that can wait until you process all the other outlandish shit you’ve learned. 

You reach out and grab Mingi’s hand. “Thank you for staying all of this time,” you say softly. “You should really get some rest.” 

Mingi looks a little surprised. “Are you sure? I’m fine with staying here; what if you need something?” There’s a slight disappointment in his tone, and you realize that this is the first time you’ve been alone with Mingi since the little revelation Seonghwa and Hongjoong let you in on. Now is definitely not the time to bring that up (you’re honestly not sure that there will ever be a time for that), but it still bothers you. How could this man, the one that stayed by your side as you were presumably in a coma for five days, have completely disappeared from your life? Willingly? 

As you stare at Mingi’s face, the questions only keep mounting. There’s so much that you wish that you could say; ‘Did you really leave because of me?’ ‘What did I do?’ ‘Did you ever regret leaving?’ ‘How could you stay with me now when you couldn’t so long ago?’ 

Instead, you merely nod your head. “Sleep in your room, I’ll be alright until the morning.”

“If you’re sure.” Mingi shrugs, giving your hand a squeeze. “If you need anything, absolutely anything, yell. Someone is always monitoring the infirmary. I think it’s Nayeon right now.” He turns to look out the door, before realizing that it’s still shut. 

He coughs out a laugh. “I’ll get going then.” But he makes absolutely no move to leave. Rather, he continues staring at you like he’s afraid you’ll disappear. Quickly, so quickly you’re almost left wondering if it actually happened, he leans down and presses a chaste kiss to your cheek. “Goodnight.”

.・。.・゜✭ ⧖ ・.・ ⧖ ✫・゜・。.

After Mingi is gone, there are so many things on your mind that you have no idea where to even begin. Your near death experience is probably the most pressing, but, honestly, the fact that Hongjoong has actually murdered people is also quite concerning (to say the least). 

Are you truly surprised, though? One of the first things Hongjoong ever did was threaten to kill you. It was quite upsetting at the time, of course, but now it’s almost worse. It’s one thing to threaten to kill people; it’s an entirely different thing to actually kill people. This fact raises its own plethora of issues. What did they do to the bodies? How has no one put this together? People disappear to a farm in the middle of nowhere and are never seen again; but it raises no suspicion on behalf of the police? Is this a regular occurrence? How many people have died in pursuit of this fake religion? Were they true believers, or were they just like you?

You honestly have no idea. Honestly, though, are you surprised? No. You’re almost more surprised by the lack of shock that you feel. It’s like your mind is numb when it comes to this place; when it comes to Hongjoong and Seonghwa. You had pretty much expected this, no?

Also disturbing to you is your lack of fear. Is that possible? That you could not be scared? It goes without saying that you’re definitely worried, definitely upset, definitely disturbed… but scared is not the word that you would use. You had survived the ceremony, that has to be the most dangerous part of this place, right?

...Thinking on that for about one more second makes you realize that it is not.

Anyhow, enough on that topic. What the hell is wrong with Seonghwa? It’s a question that you’ve asked yourself before, but he truly was in weird form tonight. He called you a wretch! And was actually helpful for once! He basically defended your pain to Hongjoong (and then did totally discredit it, but whatever). Why had he even come? He clearly had been sleeping. 

Seonghwa is a complete enigma. You still cannot understand what has made him hate you so much. What had you ever done to him? 

Whatever. Why should you care what he thinks of you? You don’t like him, either! 

God, anyways. You turn your attention to five nights ago. Now that Mingi had explained what had happened, you try to dig through your memory to find those specific moments. You get the sense that Mingi had definitely left out some of the details of that night, whether to spare your pride or because he thought they weren’t important. Either way, you’re determined to remember what happened. There’s a lingering feeling that Mingi had left out a huge detail, that something else… important had happened. But what was it?

Considering that you had been stabbed, you realize that you are in a remarkably small amount of pain. This is when you notice the IV stuck in your right elbow. Aha. They’ve still got you on drugs! But, honestly, you feel pretty clear headed. Despite the haziness of the night that landed you here, you, at present, feel pretty mentally sound.

You had, however, just declared to yourself that you’re not afraid of a God honest serial killer, so… maybe not so much.

“Nayeon?” You raise your voice to call out, before really conceptualizing what you’re going to say. You almost just want the knowledge that someone is, in fact, here for you. If you’re drugged out of your mind on painkillers, you’d feel much better knowing that the person drugging you knows what they’re doing. 

Outside of the infirmary door, which Mingi had closed on his way out, you can hear a chair scraping on the tile. The door opens soon after, and a young woman sticks her head into the room.

“Everything alright?” She asks, quite cheerily, you may add, for someone awake in the middle of the night. 

“Yeah, but, uh,” you try to think of something to say. “Could you tell me what kind of pain medicine I’m on?” 

Nayeon slides the door open further and steps into the room, weaving her way to your side. “It’s just IV acetaminophen, Tylenol.” She explains, looking at your IV drip. “This saline bag is nearly empty, let me replace it.” She twists the tube connected at the bottom of the bag, disconnecting your line. 

You sit in silence as you watch her cross the room to a large storage cabinet. “Can I ask you something?” You say as she squats down, searching for more saline.

Without turning to look, she agrees. 

“You were at my Ceremony, I assume?” 

She nods her head.

“Did anything… out of the ordinary happen? Any… strange details? Anything that didn’t happen at yours?” 

For this, she does turn to look back at you. “We aren’t really supposed to talk about it.”

Dejected, you bite your lip. Who are you supposed to get the facts from? Hongjoong would certainly make something up, Mingi is keeping something, and you don’t exactly have other friends here. Maybe Yunho? Seonghwa? Seonghwa would certainly take the opportunity to tease you for anything embarrassing that you had done. 

“But that doesn’t mean I won’t talk about it!” Nayeon giggles from her spot on the floor. She turns back to the cabinet, finding a new bag and quickly making her way back to your side. “It was kinda funny, if I’m being honest.” 

She starts explaining as she replaces the saline. “See, you were clearly on something. That in itself was already funny. If I wasn’t scared of Seonhwa punishing me with cleaning duty or something, I probably would’ve giggled.” Her smile spreads wider across her face as she turns to you. “Not that I’m making fun of you, I promise!” 

“No, I get it, keep going.”

“Okay, so first of all, you could hardly walk, but you were very determined! You had to be helped down to Hongjoong. Like I said, though, you were very determined. You were looking at him like he was the only man left on planet earth, not that I blame you, I mean,” she raises her eyebrows, smirking a little bit. 

Jesus, this is already embarrassing enough. Does it get worse?

“Anyways, you got to him and instantly went to your knees. Which is what you’re supposed to do, but still. You were very compliant! There had been rumors going around that you were quite feisty, so it was a real surprise. Then, he tried asking you how you were, and you just giggled at him.” 

Giggled? You giggled at Hongjoong? What kind of drugs did they put in that food? 

“Of course, then Hongjoong got all dramatic with it. He has quite a flare for this stuff. He leaned in all slow,” she leans close to you as she says this. “And literally made out with you in front of all of us. Which definitely does not happen often. This is where I nearly started laughing for real; I have never seen Seonghwa look like that before.”

“Sorry, what?” Had you just misheard her?

“Yeah, Seonghwa was freaked. Like, he was wearing a mask, but seriously, it was so obvious. I don’t get what his problem is, though. Just because he’s known Hongjoong for so long, he has some claim on him? I say good for you, girl.”

… “I meant the other part, sorry. Hongjoong kissed me?” You ask it as calmly as possible, which is not very calm at all.

She nods, giggling quite exactly like a gossiping high-schooler. “He was very enthusiastic with it, as were you, I might add.”

Fucking hell. 

“Anyways, while this was all going on, Seonghwa was clearly fuming. And, for a second, I thought for sure that he was going to be the one to break the silence, not me. But Hongjoong grabbed the knife pretty soon after, and, yeah, you know the rest. You fainted pretty quickly, but we all clapped for you!”

You blink, trying to form a singular coherent thought. Hongjoong kissed you. And you kissed him back. What in the ever loving of all that is holy fuck. Does this mean that, on some, subconscious level, you’re… attracted to… No. You will not even consider it. Not a possibility. 

While that all in itself is quite concerning, you find your thoughts turning back to Mingi. Why hadn’t he disclosed this fact to you? Had he not wanted to embarrass you? Did he not want to think of it? To be fair, you don’t want to think of it, either. And it probably would’ve been horrible to hear that all from Mingi. He probably would’ve made it some noble, religious thing, and acted like it happens with everyone. But, clearly, it doesn’t.

So why had it happened? Why had Hongjoong kissed you, when he normally doesn’t kiss others? 

And why do you feel so guilty? 

“Um, thanks, Nayeon. That helps.” You awkwardly get out, not entirely sure what to say to her.

She smiles. “Anytime! Do you need anything else? More medicine, maybe? Something to sleep?” 

You shake your head, telling her that you’re alright. Really, you aren’t, but that’s not her issue to deal with. 

She tells you that she’ll be right outside should you need anything else, and then leaves the room, closing the door behind her.

You try to close your eyes to rest, but you know that you will definitely not be getting any sleep after that. What. The. Fuck.

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THE ANSWER: Do You Love Me?

Kim Hongjoong doesn’t like the word ‘cult.’ He prefers ‘sect.’ pairing: ateez x fem reader genre: cult au, thriller, angst check warnings on AO3

← previous || next → || masterlist chapter word count: 2,676

"Do you love me?" 

It’s a difficult question, and yet it still should have a relatively simple answer.

Sitting on the edge of Hongjoong's bed, shirt unbuttoned and hair messy; Seonghwa waits for his answer.

Hongjoong's back is pressed against his headboard. Seonghwa can't see his incredulous stare, or the way his lips are slightly parted. Hongjoong is rarely pressed for words, but the question genuinely has caught him off guard.

"Why would you ask me that?" Hongjoong doesn't whisper his response. He says it as he does everything, dripping in charisma, but his question is also accusing. Hongjoong knows that Seonghwa is aware of his answer.

Seonghwa turns his head to look at Hongjoong's face. He merely scoffs when they make eye contact before returning his gaze to the wall in front of him. 

"You know I don't…" Hongjoong pauses, considering his words carefully for once. "You know that I don't have those emotions." He's being honest. Seonghwa knows that Hongjoong doesn't feel like everyone else does. Why Seonghwa would ask him such a ridiculous question perplexes him. He reaches out to touch Seonghwa anyway, trying to offer the comfort he knows he should.

Seonghwa shrugs off Hongjoong’s hands. He nods his head, his already messy hair flopping about with the movement. "Yeah. Right." His tone matches the accusatory tone Hongjoong had used earlier. 

He turns to face Hongjoong again. "How do you explain your little obsession with (Y/n), then?" Seonghwa practically spits the question at Hongjoong, not caring about repercussions or punishments. 

Hongjoong almost smiles. Almost. It's cute, the possessiveness that Seonghwa has over him. The little complex that's grown in his mind over the years. Hongjoong knows that he should have nipped it when it first started growing, but the idolization was too much to resist. It's a natural consequence of making yourself irresistible. When people hang off of every word you speak, they're bound to fall in love with you. They're bound to become jealous of anyone you pay attention to that isn’t themselves.

Still, he's not fond of the accusation. He's not obsessed with her. "How many times do we have to have this conversation, Seonghwa?" He asks, nearly raising his voice. "I'm not obsessed with her."

Seonghwa's eyes water. He quickly blinks away the tears, swallowing around the lump in his throat. Hongjoong is right, they have had this conversation too many times. Everytime, it ends the same. Hongjoong isn't obsessed. Because he says so. End of story. And Hongjoong lures Seonghwa into forgetting his unsatisfactory answers with soft kisses and sweet whispers. Not today.

"But you are. Clearly." 

Hongjoong sits up further in the bed in order to reach out and touch Seonghwa again. His hand lands on his forearm. Hongjoong gently tugs on him, urging him to climb further into bed. Hongjoong lightly smirks. "What brought this on? You know that you're the only one." He doesn't believe himself, but he knows that Seonghwa will. He always does. It's in his nature, an unwillingness to accept second place. An unwillingness to believe that he could come after another. Not that Hongjoong truly has favorites.

Seonghwa shakes Hongjoong's hand off of him, and Hongjoong's amused expression quickly fades. "I don't know that." Seonghwa has to fight the tears away again. "You could have let her go, you know." He whispers.

If he did cry, it wouldn't be like that would be his first time crying in front of Hongjoong. Hell, it wouldn't even be his first time crying in front of Hongjoong because of Hongjoong. He doesn't want to cry because he knows Hongjoong would like it. He wouldn't say anything, he wouldn't show any external signs, but Seonghwa would know. He does know. As much as he tries to look away, as much as he tries to ignore it and make up excuses, Seonghwa knows Hongjoong is sick.

Seonghwa knows that he's sick, too. He's hyper aware of this. He knows that he must be less disturbed than Hongjoong, at least. Seonghwa feels regret. He feels remorse. His stomach flips every time he remembers an atrocity he's committed on Hongjoong's behalf. He knows that Hongjoong's doesn't.

Hongjoong considers Seonghwa's words for precisely zero seconds before responding. "I could have let her go?” He scoffs, genuinely amused by Seonghwa’s reasoning. “She knew something was up the second she stepped foot in this place. We knew she would. She was never going to leave, Seonghwa.”

The two men sit in silence. For once, Hongjoong doesn't know what Seonghwa wants to hear. He can't conjure up the right words, can't think of a way to tilt his tongue into Seonghwa's forgiveness. 

Hongjoong has long been confused by the complexities of relationships. For the longest time, he had thought that things like love and fear had been invented for movies. That there were mere props meant to make stories more dramatic. He never knew that people actually felt things for or about each other until he was a teenager. When he met Seonghwa. 

Seonghwa quickly understood that there was something fundamentally wrong with Hongjoong. He tried his best to fill in Hongjoong's gaps, to teach him what he never knew, but it was a high task for a child. The damage had already been dealt. It seemed to Seonghwa like these feelings people have for each other must have to be taught in young childhood, or they’re lost forever. 

Seonghwa did help him learn. Yet, Hongjoong can not recall ever feeling something for someone. He's felt things at people and because of them, mainly anger, but never for someone. Hongjoong could never quite understand the things Seonghwa would describe to him. Why would you feel sad when someone else is sad? Why would you hurt when they hurt? How could you love another person, be willing to sacrifice for them? He never knew. 

Seonghwa had quickly become obsessed with Hongjoong. He needed to help him, needed to fix him. When he realized he couldn't, he only became more attached. Hongjoong thrived off of the attention. 

Though Hongjoong couldn't understand love, he knew from then on that receiving it was like a drug.

"Why did you kiss her?" Seonghwa's question breaks the silence. Seonghwa knows about Hongjoong's lack of understanding. Seonghwa has seen him kiss other people hundreds of times. But the way he had kissed (Y/n) was unlike those he had seen before. 

A certain hesitation, a certain question of consent. It showed care that Seonghwa hadn't known Hongjoong had. Had he ever kissed him like that? When Hongjoong kissed him, it was hungry. It was desperate. A means to an end. Hongjoong had kissed her for something else. It lacked the lustful desire and need that Seonghwa was used to. 

But it wasn't completely void of feeling, either. That's what upsets Seonghwa. When Hongjoong kisses others, they're typically empty. Something to sooth the receiver. Hongjoong himself gets nothing from it, and gives nothing to it besides his lips.

When he kissed her, he got something from it. That's what's bothering Seonghwa. That's what nearly made him break the ceremonial silence. 

Hongjoong lets out a dry laugh. "That's what this is about?" He asks. "Fuck Seonghwa, if you just got to the point imagine how much faster our conversations would be." Hongjoong finds himself annoyed with Seonghwa's question. He frequently kisses his followers, it's just something he does. Not everything he does needs to be overanalyzed by Seonghwa.

Hongjoong puts it to the back of his mind that he knows it was different. He doesn't understand why he felt so compelled to kiss her, and he doesn't want to think about it. Normally, he would reserve the kisses for the faithful, for the devoted. But the way she had sat so eagerly on her knees for him, how desperate her eyes looked… 

"Don't belittle me, Hongjoong." Seonghwa doesn't know what comes over him, but he's suddenly fuming. "You know it was different, and that scares you! Because it means I'm right and you're wrong! You are obsessed with her!"

Hongjoong is taken aback by Seonghwa's sudden hostility. "How dare you speak to me like that? Must I remind you who I am?" 

Seonghwa hardly let's him finish his question. "How dare I? Hongjoong, we have been inseparable since we were fourteen! I'm not talking to you as the founder of a religion right now! I’m speaking to you as a loved one when I say that your obsession with that girl could be dangerous!” 

“I am not obsessed with her!” Hongjoong is shouting now, throwing his hands out in front of him in explanation. “I don’t understand where you’re getting that idea from!”

Seonghwa laughs. “Where am I getting that idea from? I have eyes, Hongjoong. I can see the way you look at her, the way she gets under your skin, the way you desperately need to get under hers. I saw the way you kissed her and the way you nearly hesitated to complete her ceremony!”

Hongjoong is utterly bewildered. Seonghwa has gotten mad at him in the past, of course, but never like this. Never in such an irrevocable way. For a split second, Hongjoong doubts if he will stay at his side after this argument. But it’s only a passing thought, born of a brain used to abandonment. Seonghwa would never leave him, could never leave him.

Though Seonghwa has talked to him about the intricacies of relationships before, this whole argument makes no sense to Hongjoong anyways. Why is it Seonghwa’s problem if Hongjoong wants someone else? Not that he wants (Y/n), of course. The notion is absurd. Even if he did, why should Seonghwa care? What claim does he have? Seonghwa has to know by now that Hongjoong is not and will never be his. Hongjoong belongs to Hongjoong, and that’s that. 

And what’s this about hesitating? He has stabbed her, hadn’t he? Maybe it took a second longer because he had to fumble to find the knife, but, fuck, his eyes were closed! The fact that Seonghwa could genuinely believe that Hongjoong would hesitate… he doesn’t like it. It holds even more accusations and implications.

“I did not hesitate, Seonghwa.”

“You did. Everyone sitting at that table saw it.” Seonghwa has returned his voice to normal volume. He speaks his sentences as straight statements, devoid of emotion. “We all saw you jump when she put her hands on you. How gently you ran your hand down to her neck. How softly you pushed your lips together. And how you held the knife above her for seconds. That was hesitation.”

Hongjoong rolls his eyes. “You’re delusional. I didn’t hesitate, and might I remind you that I am not your boyfriend? Or maybe that I don’t experience romantic attraction?”

“Sexual attraction is still attraction.” Seonghwa brings his hand up to rub his forehead. This argument is bringing on a headache.

Hongjoong splays his hands out in front of him. “My God, Seonghwa, what do you want from me? To blind myself? To become celibate? What?” Seonghwa is being ridiculous. Every single time Hongjoong even looks at another person, he falls off the deep end.

“I want you to stay away from (Y/n).”

“No.” Hongjoong crosses his arms in front of him, very aware that he must look like a child in the midst of a temper tantrum. But if either of them are having a tantrum right now, it’s Seonghwa. Hongjoong still can’t quite grasp what the hullabaloo is about. Why is Seonghwa so pissed off about (Y/n) in particular? He’s shown interest in many people before, but Seonghwa has never reacted like this. Anyhow, no matter how Seonghwa feels, he doesn’t get a say anyways. He can’t control Hongjoong, he can’t give him orders. Hongjoong is the superior.

Seonghwa just shakes his head, turning his head to look up at the ceiling. Why can’t Hongjoong get it? Why did Seonghwa, of all people, get stuck being the one to teach Hongjoong everything about being a person? Seonghwa loves Hongjoong, but this was not what he signed up for. 

The jealousy stings in Seonghwa’s stomach. It burns. But there are other reasons to worry about Hongjoong having an obsession. It could quickly lead to favoritism, which could quickly lead to upset members. He could be swayed by her opinions and actions, and change himself to match her ideals. He could lose everything because of this stupid girl, and he just doesn’t understand it. 

Hongjoong watches on as Seonghwa starts buttoning his shirt. “What are you doing?” He asks gently, though he doesn’t feel gentle at all. He’s still pissed. But he doesn’t want Seonghwa to leave.

Seonghwa doesn’t answer, merely moves to stand up. Hongjoong quickly shoots his hand out, reaching to grab Seonghwa’s arm. He catches it, and, this time, Seonghwa doesn’t shake him off. “Hey, don’t leave.” Hongjoong honestly hates how little control he has over the situation. It makes him feel weak, watching Seonghwa not listen to him. Feeling weak makes him more angry.

Seonghwa stares at the hand on his forearm. For a split second, Seonghwa has an epiphany. Hongjoong is just a man. With five fingers on each hand. He counts them. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. His hand looks small and soft, gentle and kind. But the man it’s connected to doesn’t fit that vocabulary.

And yet, Seonghwa knows that he can’t leave. Not when Hongjoong sounds so vulnerable, and not when he’s so helplessly in love with him. His anger simmers so quickly, it feels as if it almost wasn’t there in the first place. Seonghwa’s gaze turns from Hongjoong’s hand to his face. He looks scared. It could almost fool Seonghwa into believing that he is. 

Hongjoong sees the change in Seonghwa’s eyes as soon as he decides to stay. A smile breaks across his face, and he knows that he’s won Seonghwa over. With just three words and a soft tone. How pathetically easy. Hongjoong’s stomach still threatens to boil over in anger, but the triumph does slightly help his nerves.

With a gentle tug, Seonghwa rejoins Hongjoong on the bed. Hongjoong helps him unbutton his shirt again, carefully and deliberately undoing each button. He slides the button up off of him as he finishes. He leans down and, as he’s about to press a kiss to Seonghwa’s stomach, Seonghwa grabs him by the chin, making him look up. “I’m still mad at you.” He doesn’t really mean it.

The feeling is mutual in Hongjoong’s eyes. Hongjoong was pissed before, but now the vulnerability of Seonghwa’s hand holding his chin up is making it worse. Instead of reacting, however, Hongjoong smiles. One of his teasing, fake smiles. Seonghwa can’t tell the difference. “You love me.”

“I do,” Seonghwa sighs. “Can we just hold each other tonight?”

Hongjoong could almost scoff. Cuddling. Another weird relationship thing that he could not understand. What’s the point? Wouldn’t a real couple just have makeup sex in this situation? But he presses a chaste kiss to Seonghwa’s chest and scootches back up his body anyways. One thing Hongjoong does understand is compromise. Though he’s not a big fan of it.

They slip under the covers together, anyway. Seonghwa wraps his right arm around Hongjoong’s shoulders, encouraging Hongjoong to rest on his chest. He obliges, pressing an ear flat onto Seonghwa and wrapping his right arm around his waist.

Hongjoong quickly dozes off, the argument having not affected him too deeply. He won, so it doesn’t matter. Though hearing Seonghwa’s heartbeat in his ear does, for a brief second, make him wish that it would stop. So he could be free of the standards Seonghwa holds him to.

Seonghwa doesn’t fall asleep so easily. Why had he just let Hongjoong get away with that? Why can’t he stand up to him better? Why does he have such a strong effect on him? Why does he feel the tiniest urge to strangle him in his sleep right now? Fucking hell.

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THE ANSWER: XIV

Kim Hongjoong doesn’t like the word ‘cult.’ He prefers ‘sect.’ pairing: ateez x fem reader genre: cult au, thriller, angst check warnings on AO3

← previous || next → || masterlist chapter word count: 5,807

What the hell are you supposed to do now? Just how long are you going to have to wait in this damn closet? You sigh, reaching out to try the handle just in case. Maybe you hadn’t heard the lock like you thought you had. You grasp it in your hand, attempting to twist it. 

As you thought, nothing happens. Seonghwa isn’t dumb. He wouldn’t just leave you here, alone, with the door unlocked.

Come to think about it, are you alone in the chapel right now? Or is he outside, guarding the door? You hadn’t heard him leave, but that doesn’t mean that he hadn’t. You press your ear to the door, trying to hear anything outside of it. 

You actually do hear some scuttling. Maybe even a couple muffled voices. Are they going to be eating in the chapel? That seems like the most likely scenario, considering the giant dining table and all. Had they already eaten? And they just have to set up for you? It is a possibility, but wouldn’t you have at least seen another person on your way here if that was the case? Also, wouldn’t there be some lingering smell if they had had a full on feast in here?

Yeah, alright. You decide that they haven’t eaten yet, and that the people you’re hearing must be there to set up. Which means you have some time.

Sighing, you look around your closet again, paying attention for more details. The closet is maybe three by two feet. The three walls lacking the door are lined with shelves, each containing different things. The shelves aren’t too overpopulated. Rather, they sparsely have items resting on them, covered in dust.

That must’ve been the dusty smell. All of the old things in here, collecting dust for who knows how long. You reach a finger out to run a line on the shelf to your right, and nearly gag when you pull it back and see the accumulation on your finger. You quickly wipe it on your pants, hoping it doesn’t leave a super obvious streak on your thigh. 

Seriously, have these people never heard of dusting? Just because you don’t use a room very often doesn’t mean you shouldn’t clean it. Someone must be slacking on their cleaning duties. 

You turn your attention to the things actually sitting on the shelves. The back wall is full of books, and you don’t have to read the spine to guess what they are. They all are standing up straight, and they look to be the cleanest thing in the room. Seriously? Does someone come in here to only clean those stupid books? The books fill up all of the back shelves, from top to bottom, their embossed spines glinting at you. 

Before Seonghwa so rudely slammed opened your door, you had nearly picked up the one on your desk. You shudder now to think that you had been so close. What had you been thinking? That would have been a terrible idea. You know yourself, you wouldn’t have been able to stop reading once you started. Even if you got to know some of the ceremony, you would learn a whole host of other things that had no business making residence in your mind.

You turn away from the books to check out the other walls. On one of the shelves, there’s multiple hour glasses. Real, physical hour glasses. You reach out and flip one upside down, starting the countdown. Might as well keep some track of time. You watch the sand pour through to the bottom for a moment before turning your attention to another shelf. On the very top shelf of one of the walls, there are hats. Fedoras, like the one that Seonghwa had been wearing.

Speaking of hats, why didn’t you get one? You stand on your tiptoes to try and reach the shelf, to no avail. They’re too far out of reach. You glance around the floor for a step stool, but, again, to no avail. You wonder for a second how Hongjoong would be able to reach the hats before deciding that he probably doesn’t ever come in this closet. He most likely has someone else do it. Seonghwa would be tall enough. Anyhow, you’re not too upset about it. The hats are covered in dust like everything else, and you wouldn’t want to put one on your head anyways.

You cross your arms over your chest, turning to face the door again. Right when you’re about to give up on learning anything else, you hear the sound of footsteps and voices flooding the chapel. Seems like people are arriving for their feast. You press your ear to the door again, trying to work out any individual voices. 

Of course, it’s impossible. There are far too many people talking at once for you to discern anyone. You wonder for a second if Mingi is out there. Though you had seen him just yesterday morning, it seems like ages ago. Everything that has happened since then has extended time infinitely. Though you had gone months without seeing or talking to Mingi, these 36 hours without him have been far more difficult, for more reasons than one. You have so many things that you need to ask him. There’s so much that you need to talk about, it threatens to overwhelm you again.

You shake your head, trying to clear your thoughts of Mingi. Whatever the case, you’ll see him soon. He has to be out there, sitting at the table. This doesn’t seem like a voluntary participation event. Hopefully you’ll be able to talk to him. If not tonight, soon.

If you’re going to be a part of this cult, they can’t keep you locked in a room forever. You assume that you’ll probably be assigned a job, like everyone else. Or will they wait until Hongjoong is sure of your loyalty? Either way, they have to eventually give you some sort of freedom. You will speak to Mingi, privately, soon, as soon as possible.

Your thoughts are interrupted when you hear the outside door slam open and the room go quiet. It doesn’t take you long to guess who just entered the room. His aura precedes him. You can hear Hongjoong’s muffled voice through the door, getting slightly louder as the seconds tick by. He must be approaching the back of the chapel. You hold your breath, waiting to hear him outside the door, but he doesn’t come.

He must’ve stopped at the head of the table. That seems to be where his voice is coming from, anyways. Your spatial awareness probably isn’t the best it could be, considering you’re locked in a closet. 

Hongjoong continues to speak and you try to press yourself harder against the door, desperate to make out anything that he’s saying. It’s definitely got something to do with you, and you don’t particularly enjoy not knowing what’s going on. 

Hongjoong stops his monologue, and you wait for him to start again. But he doesn’t. Instead, you’re suddenly struck by the smell of food wafting through the chapel. You salivate, placing a hand on your stomach. Jeez, you really should’ve eaten that bag of chips earlier. Your stomach almost aches with hunger, and it rolls over in response to the new smells. You can’t quite put a finger on what the food is, but it definitely is some sort of meat. It must be because of how hungry you are, but, damn, it smells absolutely amazing. You sure hope that Wooyoung made enough for everyone, including yourself. 

Your hunger makes you almost more anxious. The sensation of your stomach grumbling doesn’t mix well with the anxiety coursing through your body. Fuck, can’t they just get this over with already? You just want this night to be over, but it seems like it’s going to continue dragging on; just as your day had. 

Stepping away from the door, you begin waiting again. You casually glance over to the hourglass that you had tipped, and notice that it’s nearly half-way through. It’s already been thirty minutes, how much longer is this going to take? Yeah, you definitely should’ve eaten those chips earlier. 

It’s not long before you can hear Hongjoong’s muffled voice again. That man must love the sound of his own voice a little too much. Seriously, you don’t think he would ever stop talking if he didn’t have to. You still can’t quite make out what he’s saying, and it’s starting to get frustrating. Why the hell are you locked in this closet? Aren’t you the guest of honor right now? Shouldn’t you have been the first one seated, the first one to be served? Why hasn’t anyone given you a straight answer about anything? When the hell is someone going to open this door?

You roll your eyes to yourself as you ask yourself the last question. Obviously, they’re keeping you in here so that you can’t make some giant scene. They can’t let you ruin their cute little party, can they? Best to keep you locked up where you can’t cause trouble. 

...But wait. That doesn’t mean that you can’t cause trouble in the closet. What’s stopping you from pounding on the door and screaming? That ought to get their attention. You smirk to yourself as you extend your fists to start knocking. 

Your plan is quickly foiled, however, by the sound of footsteps. Footsteps that are approaching the door. The courage that you had momentarily found leaves you as quickly as it had come, and you step backwards, pressing yourself to the back shelves. You’re overcome with the urge to crouch and hide like a child, but you resist it for now. Clenching your fists, you’re determined to not look as scared shitless as you are. 

You hear the lock click in the door and realize that the room outside has fallen completely silent. It seems like an eternity before the door swings open. There’s two people waiting for you on the other side, but you can’t quite take them in before they shove their way into the closet, each grabbing one of your arms and pulling you out.

The suddenness of their movements makes you stumble over your feet. Your shoes scrape along the floor, sounding entirely too loud. You would’ve fallen flat on your face if it hadn’t been for their steel grips on your arms. Fuck, your arms have been abused these past two days. You swing your head to your left to try and figure out who is holding onto you. The grip is suspiciously Seonghwa-like, and you want to confirm your guess.

However, it’s a bit difficult. Not only is your captor wearing a hat, but also a mask. You look to the one on your right to find the same. While you’d love to think that you can recognize most people just based on their bodies and eyes, you can’t when you’ve only met them once and everyone that it could be is wearing the same exact thing. 

They don’t stop pulling you further into the chapel while you try to take them in. Once you’ve realized that it’ll be too difficult, you turn your attention to the table in the center of the room.

Huh, isn’t that interesting. Every damn person in the room is wearing the same outfit. Granted, there are little variations in each, from the style of top to the accessories, but everyone is wearing that same hat and that same mask. You can’t see anything below the table line, but you’d venture to guess that they’re wearing the same pants and boots that you are. Their eyes follow you intently as you are pulled to the head of the table, the one closest to the chapel door.

The one on your right lets go of your arm to pull the chair out for you. Under normal circumstances, you probably would thank anyone that extended that kindness to you. Instead, you glare at him as your other guide steps around to the left side of the chair and pulls back on your arm, making you sit. Your ass hits the chair hard, nearly making you bounce. Your back hits it equally as hard, and it takes you a moment to regain any sense of awareness. 

He lets go of your arm once you’re situated, and the guy that had pulled your chair out pushes you in. They each take the seats closest to you on the sides of the table, facing towards each other in silence. As has become almost customary for you, you rub your upper arms, trying to soothe the throbbing pain in them.

You flick your gaze up from your arms to the opposite end of the table. 

Of course, Hongjoong has already been watching you. He’s dressed the same as everyone else, though he’s missing the mask and the hat. You can see his smile, as cocky as ever, well and clear. He looks more entertained than you’ve ever seen him. Even after threatening your life, he hadn’t looked so excited. Now, you can practically see him vibrating from the other end of the table. 

Hongjoong clears his throat once he catches your eyes, smiling even wider before speaking. “Welcome, (Y/n).”

You simply stare back at him in response. Whatever the hell your lines are supposed to be tonight, you will not be following them. 

Hongjoong doesn’t seem to mind. “As you all know,” he glances at the nearly identical faces around the table, “we are here for a very special reason. (Y/n) will either be Chosen tonight, and will stay with us until salvation, or she will be leaving us tonight. I must confess, I would be quite upset if she were not Chosen by the Lord,” he shrugs, “but it’s not my decision. It is her soul’s alone.”

Everyone around the table remains silent and unresponsive. That seems to be what their role is tonight, simple observation. From the uniforms, you guess that the idea here must be conformity. Numbers rather than individuality. Right now, they’re just objects, here to be props for Hongjoong’s performance.

“Wooyoung,” Hongjoong calls over his shoulder. You hadn’t noticed, but, sure enough, there’s someone standing against the back wall of the chapel. Must be Wooyoung. “Serve (Y/n), please.”

Wooyoung gives Hongjoong a silent, curt nod before heading towards the front door. As hungry as you are, the idea of eating a meal with all of these people watching you is not a very welcome one. The room sits in silence as you wait for Wooyoung. He’s back within a couple minutes, carrying a plate and a wine glass. 

He sets the plate in front of you first, followed by the glass. You were right about smelling meat. You can’t identify it off of sight alone, but it’s clearly a steak of some kind. There’s a smattering of dark sauce over the top, and, if you didn’t know better, you might think it’s just regular barbeque sauce. But who would ruin a perfectly good steak with barbeque sauce? A fork and steak knife are balanced on either side of the plate, inviting you in.

Now your hunger is really getting to you. Your stomach growls, echoing through the silence of the room. Wooyoung leaves your side and returns to the back wall, awaiting any further instructions. None come, however.

Hongjoong chuckles from the head of the table at your stomach’s outcry. “Go ahead, eat.” He sounds kind enough, but it’s not a request. It’s a command.

You hesitate to pick up your silverware, however. A moment of clarity rushes over you, feeling like cold water running down your back. What the fuck is going on, again? You search the blank eyes around the table, looking for one pair in particular. It’s not hard to recognize them.

Mingi is already staring at you. You two make eye contact, neither able to glance away. After being someone’s friend for a long enough amount of time, you can learn to read their microexpressions. Mingi is no exception to this rule. His eyes are about as empty as anyone else's, but there’s a subtlety about them. A particular urgency. An urgency for what? Does he want you to eat the steak? Or does he want nothing more than to stop you? Are his fists clenched, shaking under the table? Is he biting his lip under his mask? What does he want?

Too early, Mingi turns away. His eyes disconnect from yours, and that terrible guilt crushes into your stomach again. Fuck, you cannot be doing this right now.

You bring your attention back to Hongjoong. He’s not smiling anymore; rather, his eyebrows are raised and his eyes sparkle with warning. He nods his head when he sees that he has your attention once more, gesturing between the plate and you with an outstretched hand. 

Your stomach groans again as you bring your hands up to take your silverware. They shake slightly as your anxiety manifests itself. What you wouldn’t do for a Xanax right now.

The corner of your mouth twitches and you almost smile. Now is not the time for a college flashback, but your mind becomes occupied with the memory anyways. 

You had always had quite bad exam anxiety. It was a vicious cycle, you would be anxious about doing bad on an exam, which would make you perform worse during the exam, which would make you more anxious, which would make you do even worse. During a particularly stressful midterm season, the cycle had gotten to you, and it had gotten to you bad. You could hardly sleep, let alone study and retain information. This, of course, made your anxiety even worse. 

Your ever dutiful study partner, Mingi, could hardly study himself because of you. Rather than studying, he spent most of his time trying to (a) help you overcome your anxiety and (b) distract you from said anxiety. In a last-ditch attempt to help you, he paid some engineering major $55 for four little orange Xanax pills. 

You were completely against the idea at first. Xanax is a controlled substance for a reason. Mingi managed to convince you pretty easily, though, once he said that he would take one with you. How could you pass up the idea of seeing a drugged up Mingi? You both took one, sitting across from each other on your dorm bed. Immediately, Mingi had said that he didn’t feel anything. You had laughed and hit his shoulder, and he joined you. 

You two had stayed up for maybe another hour or so, waiting for the Xanax to kick in. It started to hit around the 45 minute mark, and it was well worth taking to see Mingi. Neither of you could hardly get a sentence out, your train of thought totally leaving you in the middle of each. You both ended up spending that last 15 minutes awake laughing with each other. Just quiet giggles that would fade away until more arose. 

The Xanax definitely worked, though. Mingi let you know the next morning that he had fought his own sleepiness until he saw you were sleeping. You got probably the best night of sleep of your entire college career that night. Mingi had slept on your floor, but even he shared the same sentiment. After that night of sleep, you both were able to get quite a lot of studying done, and midterms hadn’t ended so bad.

The memory crosses your mind for only a second, but it feels like you’re transported back to that time. Everything was so much simpler, so much easier and brighter. How did you get here? A dark, musty chapel, filled with strangers and one person that feels too much like a stranger.

Well, c’est la vie, or whatever. You bring your silverware to the steak, cutting it easily with the sharp knife. The room remains silent, and the only sounds are your silverware hitting the ceramic plate. You bring the first bite to your mouth, and you’re mildly surprised with the flavor as you chew.

It’s not a steak. Or, at least, not a type of steak that you’ve ever had. It tastes more like turkey, but that doesn’t really make sense. You don’t serve turkey in steak form. Whatever it is, it tastes absolutely divine on your empty stomach. You set the knife down to grab your glass, taking a sip of the liquid inside.

As expected, it’s wine. Some nasty, bitter red wine. What is with religion and wine? Why can’t cerimonial liquor be something actually pleasant? Is that the point, that you’re not supposed to enjoy it? 

“Good,” Hongjoong breaks through your thoughts, “now I will begin. As all of you know, it’s tradition that I tell our story to the Prospective Chosen.” 

You stop eating. A story? He’s seriously going to tell you a story? You really don’t want to hear ‘their story.’ You squint at your food, trying to think of a way to block out the noise. 

Unfortunately, Hongjoong notices that you’ve stopped. “By all means, keep eating, (Y/n).” He smiles kindly, nodding gently. 

This is really happening. Honestly, you slightly fear what will happen if you refuse. Plus, you’re still quite hungry. So you listen to Hongjoong, starting to eat as he starts to tell his story.

“Now, (Y/n), I know this might all sound a little strange to you, but keep an open mind. You can only be Chosen if your soul believes.” He nods solemnly. “Let’s get right to it. As you may know, there are multiple universes. Alternate universes, if you will. This is a sound scientific theory, one that envelops all of us throughout our entire lives.

“Think of it this way- every decision you make alters the course of your life. You chose to come here. When you made that decision, your consciousness remained in the universe where you made that choice. Had you chosen otherwise, it would have continued to another universe where you hadn’t come. It’s very simple, really.

“While there are universes that only differ by one single decision, there are others that differ immensely. There are universes where you are an entirely different person, living an entirely different life. These versions of us, they’re called clones. They look like us, they act like us, but they are, fundamentally, not us. They lack the consciousness that we have. Hence, they are our clones. Do you understand?”

You nod as you continue to eat. 

“Good. This is where things get relevant to us. About three or four years ago, I was contacted by my clone. My clone from Universe One, as we call it now. He came to me in a dream, looking exactly as I do now. He told me the story of his universe, and asked for my help. At first, I thought it was all simply my mind playing tricks on me. Seriously, me, from another universe, asking for my help?

“But then God Himself came to me. He made Himself known to me. He told me that this was His design, and that it was my responsibility to help Hongjoong. This made it apparent to me that he was real. So I tried to help him, but, with only myself, here in our universe, there wasn’t much that I could do. He needed help in his universe. Fortunately, though our lives are so different, there are intrinsic facts of the multiverse. If your life is connected to another’s in one universe, they will be connected to you in most others as well. 

“That is our purpose as a group. We gather in this universe to gather in Universe One, and help my clone. It’s simple, really. We have the easy life, between the two universes. In Universe One, there is constant unrest. No one is happy, no one is free. However, they have each other there, and they are working to make change. A positive change. This is why your soul must first be tried in this universe. If you are not pure at soul, you could corrupt their group. Overall, God makes the decision.

“But not everything is perfect here. God is an omnidimensional being. And there are others as well. Devils. They have attempted to corrupt me in the past, turn me against myself. For a period, I was sure that my clone was my enemy. The Devils can and will turn you against what is good and right in any dimension. But I can protect you from them, here.”

He pauses in his speech, looking intently at you. You try to hold his gaze back, but he’s… spinning. He’s blurry. You can’t focus on his face, no matter how hard you try. 

“It’s alright if you don’t understand all of that, (Y/n). If your soul is pure, you’ll be welcomed with open arms here and in Universe One. God will protect you, as I will protect you. Things will become clearer as time goes on and you learn more details of our story. This was truly just an introduction.” He nods.

Or, at least, you think he does. There’s three of him, sitting at the table across from you now. When did they get there? You try to look at the others around the table, and there’s way too many of them as well. Your head suddenly feels much too heavy on your shoulders. Sleep sounds great right now.

What’s stopping you from just laying your head down for a second? No one would mind, right? They would understand. You finally drop your silverware, and their clatter on the plate wakes you up slightly. Wait, what’s happening?

You try to remember why you’re here, but you’ve completely forgotten. You’ve also completely forgotten who all these people are. Are you supposed to know them? The one on the end of the table is familiar. He’s smiling, but he’s also spinning a little bit. He seems… welcoming. 

“Stand up.” He tells you, but he sounds far away. Too far away for where he looks like he is. You listen anyways.

As you stand, you stumble a bit. Your legs are shaking under you, and the room is moving back and forth, up and down. You catch yourself on the edge of the table as two people on either side of you rise to help you.

They each grab an arm, your arms responding with a dull ache. The pain is familiar, but you can’t quite put a finger on why. Once you’re steady on your feet, the man at the end of the table beckons for you to come to him. He uses his index and middle fingers, calling you to him. 

You readily begin your walk to him. At that moment in time, he is everything. He is all. You want to please him, you’ll do anything he asks. He feels important to you, even if you can’t remember who he is or what his name is. All that matters right now is listening to him.

The two men on your sides give you a lot of help reaching the end of the table. Without them, your journey probably would have ended very quickly. Your feet and legs are not listening to what you want so desperately. To reach him. You would scold them if it were possible to scold body parts. 

After a few moments of clumsiness (how embarrassing, to be clumsy in front of this man), you make it to him. He’s turned his chair outward from the table. He now sits facing the eastern wall of the chapel, waiting for you to join him. The two men let go of you, and your legs immediately give out. 

You’re on your knees in front of him now. Your vision isn’t spinning nearly as much anymore, and you can easily hold eye contact with him. “How are you feeling, (Y/n)?” He asks, and his voice is beautiful. More beautiful than you ever would have guessed. He is beautiful. 

You can’t even get a word out to tell him that you’re better than you ever have been. There’s a giddiness in your stomach that can’t be described, an excitement that you’ve never felt before. Though you can’t speak, he seems to understand. He’s smiling so kindly, so warmly.

He reaches a hand out to you, cupping your right cheek in his hand. He caresses your face, gazing over every inch of you. You couldn’t describe the feeling if you had all the time in the world to learn new vocabulary and study writing. He touches you and you feel alive. His hand is hot, very hot. He sends shockwaves through your body, and they collect in a ball in your chest. His warmth seems to spread from his hand through your face, all the way through your body. 

You feel like you’re receiving a blessing, getting to be touched by this man. He has a healing touch. It’s as if everything negative you’ve ever felt is long gone, and will never be back. You’re the happiest that you’ve ever been. How could you not be?

He bends at his waist in his chair, bringing his face down and closer to yours. He’s still inches away. Suddenly all you want is him, everything is him. He’s too far away. You couldn’t get close enough to him if you tried. Even if he held you in his arms, as tight as he could, it wouldn’t be enough for you. His one hand on your face is nowhere near satisfactory. You need him to touch you. You need him closer. 

You clumsily raise your hands to rest on his knees. You were aiming for his shoulders, but that quickly became too much exertion. You’re pretty tired. Anyhow, your hands rest on top of his knees, fingers resting along his lower thighs. You try to squeeze, wanting to feel him in your hands, but, again, it takes too much exertion to squeeze for long.

His smile is smaller now, but still as kind as ever. He doesn’t respond to your touch. He continues analyzing you, taking in every detail he can find. You gaze back at him, drinking in his presence. He truly is beautiful. Have you ever seen such a pretty person? You won’t bother trying to think about it. You haven’t. 

His eyes sparkle with something you can’t quite put a finger on. Excitement? But that doesn’t make sense, why would such a perfect person be excited by you? It has to be something else. He glances to your lips for a moment that seems to stretch on forever.

You pout on instinct. Someone’s looking at your lips, what are you supposed to do, not make them look better? His eyes drag back up to meet yours, and now they look different. Something is very different. You don’t want to look at his eyes anymore, so you look to his lips. They’re just as perfect as the rest of him, pink, soft, and pillowy. 

He grips your face tighter in his hand, and your eyes snap back to his. Except he’s closer now, and his eyes are closed. Oh, and he’s kissing you. Gently. Very gently. His lips are hardly grazing yours, as if he’s inviting you to engage further. 

You do, of course. This man could be a Greek fucking God, of course you’re going to kiss him. You close your eyes and tilt your face further upwards, connecting your lips completely. You have a vague memory of there being other people in the room, but you couldn’t care less. His hand on your face falls to your neck, wrapping around to cradle your nape. His thumb rests on your jaw, holding your head upward as he pulls you closer. 

You eagerly respond to his touch, and your teeth clatter together behind your lips, but neither of you seem to mind. You desperately want to move your hands from his knees, to feel his shoulders or his hair or his face, but your arms feel like they’re full of lead. The two of you move together, and you hardly hear the throat clear off to your side.

Seonghwa. Whose Seonghwa? Hmmm… You don’t know, but you know that it was him that just cleared his throat. Is that something that Seonghwa would do? Interrupt your fun? Probably. You keep your eyes shut and your lips on… whoever this is, anyhow.

You don’t let the sound of silverware on a plate distract you either. This is a once in a lifetime event, you will not be distracted by anyth-

Whomp.

Hongjoong hits you on the chest. That’s his name, you remember now, he hit you with a closed fist. And soon after he breaks your kiss. You open your eyes to him sitting back up in his chair once again. He’s smiling again, too. 

Fuck, your chest kind of hurts where he hit you. What a weird fucking thing to do, hit you in the middle of a kiss. It was more of a punch than a hit, too. God, what the fuck was that? You peel your eyes away from him to look where he hit you, on the left side of your chest.

It occurs to you for the first time that you may be dreaming. How else could such a perfect man exist? Why else would he kiss you? And how else would you not have felt the steak knife, now protruding from your chest, stab into you?

Its silver handle twinkles in the light. Is it really there? You can’t feel it. You would reach for it, but you still can’t move your hands. This has to be a dream. 

But there’s a lingering feeling that this isn’t a dream. That it’s sickeningly real. You suddenly get the feeling that stabbing you is exactly something that Hongjoong would do. That he’s sick. That you hate him. Why can’t you remember?

Your chest starts to feel hot where the knife is. Your rational mind knows that you must be bleeding, but you become preoccupied with the idea that it’s Hongjoong. The knife is Hongjoong, somehow, it’s him. Hongjoong is always hot. Too hot. Burning hot. The knife is the same way. He’s put a piece of himself into you. 

The room loses its silence. As in, everyone that you now remember is around the table bursts into applause. You look back to Hongjoong, and even he is clapping, with that sick smile on his face that you now remember him having.

People are cheering and clapping, and you suddenly wonder if you’re dying. Your head hurts.

And then you pass out.

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THE ANSWER: XIII

Kim Hongjoong doesn’t like the word ‘cult.’ He prefers ‘sect.’ pairing: ateez x fem reader genre: cult au, thriller, angst check warnings on AO3

← previous || next → || masterlist chapter word count: 6,583

The next morning, you wake up tired. Not that you had really slept, anyways. 

Seonghwa had dragged you back to your room, not saying a single word all the while. It seemed almost out of character for him, but he must’ve been just as tired as you were after that charade. 

After nearly going out of your mind analyzing every word that you could remember Hongjoong saying, you had dragged yourself to bed and attempted to shut off your mind. Unfortunately, this plan hadn’t worked out too well.

You spent most of the night tossing and turning, neither asleep nor awake. Rather, you were caught in that in between, the terrible portion on the sleep spectrum that leaves you more tired than rested. 

With the morning bell, you gave up trying to sleep, despite not having anywhere to go.

Since the bell rang, you’ve been sitting in bed, waiting. Waiting for Wooyoung to bring you breakfast and hopefully give you some more information. You glance over at the desk, quickly spotting the book still laying at an angle. 

Despite wanting to know more about this dreaded situation, you still can’t bring yourself to even touch the thing again. Hongjoong wants you to read it. So, as far as you’re concerned, the thing doesn’t even exist. You’ll read that book over your own dead body.

...But your curiosity is starting to get the better of you. If it could help you understand what’s going on better, shouldn’t you read it? Don’t you want to be armed with all of the knowledge possible? If you know their tactics, would that make them easier to resist? Or would reading it only make you more susceptible to the claims?

It’s like a riddle that you can’t solve. What if you decide to read it and accidentally believe a single word it says? Or what if you don’t read it and then lose yourself to their brainwashing techniques? You want neither of these outcomes.

But what if you read it and it can help you out of this? What if it does make it easier for you to withstand any of their tactics and escape? 

These thoughts run circles in your mind. There are too many arguments for and against reading the book. For now, however, you decide to continue avoiding it. Whatever possible good could come from it is outweighed by the possible bad.

You just need to focus on getting out.

It’s Monday morning now. You were scheduled to open The Bean this morning, so someone must have noticed your absence by now, right? You once again glance around the room, looking for a clock that isn’t there.

Well, whatever the time is, it’s definitely after opening. Your boss doesn’t normally swing by right in the morning, but he’ll come by eventually and realize that no one has opened. Hopefully he’ll realize something is wrong. 

You bite your lip in an attempt to restrain your hope. It’s not that you don’t trust your boss to realize something is up, but he might let it slide for a few days before he actually gets concerned. The man has been known to disappear for days at a time himself.

But even if your boss doesn’t notice, Jungeun will. Haseul will. You told them where you were going and for how long. When you don’t text them today, they’ll know. Honestly, they might know just from the fact that you hadn’t texted them last night. Afterall, they thought you would be back by the afternoon. A smile tries to grow on your face, but you continue restraining it.

You shouldn’t get your hopes up. Even if they realize something is wrong, it could take time for them to contact the police. If they contact them at all…

Christ, you really hope they don’t come looking for you alone. If that were to happen… 

You shudder to think of your friends, locked up like you are in this moment. It’s a terrible thought, one that you never want to come to reality.

There’s no way that you would be able to escape with the help of outsiders. Anyone that shows up here gets wound into the madness. Maybe a squadron of police officers could help, but anything less than that will end with nothing except more guilt for you.

Ugh, the guilt. You’ve been trying to not think about what Seonghwa and Hongjoong said about Mingi, but here it comes. Mingi came here willingly, and he didn’t bring you. He didn’t bring you because he was trying to get away from you. Meaning, technically, it’s your fault that he’s here in the first place. Fuck.

Ignoring the hollow sadness that radiates from your heart, guilt is all you can comprehend. You are responsible. Truly, it’s difficult for you to process the feeling. It weighs so heavily on your mind that you can’t navigate through it. It sits in the center of your brain like a tumor, growing with every minute that you spend dreading it. 

How could you let this happen? How had you not noticed that Mingi wanted to get away from you? 

You agonized over Mingi’s disappearance as soon as it happened. When it was still fresh in your mind you had groped to find an explanation, and had come up empty. It’s highly unlikely that you’ll be able to find one now. But it still plagues you. What had you done? Why hadn’t he told you? Sure, Mingi had never been one for confrontation; but he had always been able to be serious enough with you about serious things.

If you had done something so terrible that he wanted to cut you off completely, wouldn’t he have told you what it was? Wouldn’t he have talked to you like an adult? For heaven’s sake, you two had been best friends for years. There wasn’t anything he couldn’t talk to you about. And yet, he still decided to leave rather than tell you. 

Fuck. If only you could talk to Mingi. If he would just visit you, you could ask. Whether or not he told the truth or even wanted to talk to you about it at all remains up in the air, but it would be better than this incomprehensible fog. 

That brings up another question. If Mingi had been trying to get away, then why did he invite you here? Why was he being so kind to you? Why had he had a meltdown when you tried to leave? 

He must have gotten over whatever it was that had caused him to leave you. But that doesn’t seem right. If it had truly been something so bad that he didn’t even speak to you about it, it shouldn’t be something that he could get over to quickly. 

God, you need to stop thinking about this so hard. Your head is starting to hurt with all this worry. 

Thankfully, it’s at that precise moment that a knock comes at your door. You step off of your bed and walk towards the door as Wooyoung calls out that it’s just him.

You sit in front of the door, waiting for the slot to open and for breakfast to come through. Wooyoung quickly delivers, his eyes smiling at you through the slot before sticking the tray out for you. You quietly thank him as you take in the food on the tray this morning.

As you start eating, Wooyoung scoots back and leans against the opposite wall once more. Seeing him in the familiar position makes you remember what he had told you last night, before all the real commotion started. The ceremony… the Chosen… what the hell was up with any of that?

As you eat your meal, you find yourself wondering how Wooyoung came to be on this farm. Had he been kidnapped? Did he have friends and family desperately searching for him? Or had he come willingly? If he had, why? 

You glance out of the slot to take Wooyoung in. He’s still simply sitting across the hall from you, playing with his fingers. He looks bored. Briefly, you wonder if Wooyoung and you are close enough for you to ask him your questions. But then you wonder if maybe those are questions you don’t ask even your most dear friends… 

“Wooyoung, “ seeing how bored Wooyoung looks, you decide to ask anyway. “How long have you been here?” Not exactly the question that you were looking to ask, but it’ll get you in the door.

Wooyoung’s head perks up, and he’s looking at you once more. “Like, at your door? Maybe five minutes?” He looks genuinely confused, but you can’t help but feel like he knew what you meant.

You give what you hope is an understanding smile, despite being slightly annoyed. “I meant here,” you gesture around with your arms, “at this farm, with Hongjoong.”

Wooyoung’s eyes go wide before he breaks out into a smile. “Ohhhhh,” he giggles, “Um, around two years, maybe a little more.” He nods, happy with his answer.

You nod with him, processing his answer. Two years? That’s a long ass time. If Wooyoung had people looking for him, had they given up? It had only taken you a few weeks to stop your desperate search for Mingi; you can’t even imagine how tired someone looking for Wooyoung would be by now. They probably had given up. Or, at least, the police had. 

You try and think of a casual way to ask Wooyoung if he had been kidnapped, but that’s not exactly a casual question. If you asked him if he had been in your position now, would he even tell you? You realize for the first time that Wooyoung could straight up lie to you at any moment. Wooyoung isn’t your friend. For all you know, he could simply feed you false information straight from Hongjoong. Either way, you know he won’t tell you that he was forced to join, even if he was. He’s too deep now.

You settle on a question that might be just casual enough to not raise suspicion. “How did you find out about this place?” You shovel another bite of breakfast into your mouth before you can say something else you’ll regret.

Wooyoung ponders your question for a moment, and you can see him searching his mind for the answer. Will he tell you the truth? “Jongho approached me at school and invited me to stay for a weekend.” 

Jongho? That’s not at all what you had been expecting. You quickly swallow to ask your next question. “Did you know Jongho before?”

“Not really,” he says, shaking his head. “I had seen him around campus, but never really talked to him.” He shrugs his shoulders.

If he hadn’t really known Jongho, then why the hell had he agreed to come here with him? If Jongho recruited Wooyoung, had he recruited Mingi? These past two days, you had been putting the blame on Hongjoong, but you suppose it makes sense that someone else has to do the recruiting.

When you had met Jongho, he seemed unassuming enough. Sure, he had been kind of brash, but you guys had interrupted him at a not so great time. Still, you would think that someone that recruits other people to a cult would have to be a bit more welcoming than Jongho had been. What could he possibly tell them that would get them to agree to spend a weekend on a farm with some stranger? Did he threaten them? Bribe them? 

You will probably never know, seeing as it wasn’t Jongho that recruited you here. You make a mental note to stay away from Jongho (as much as possible) knowing this new information. If he’s able to convince complete strangers to come here with him, who knows what he would be able to convince you to do. 

You nod to Wooyoung, not entirely sure what to say next. That kind of answers your question as to how he got here. Wooyoung’s case might’ve been similar to Mingi’s. Maybe he had something (or someone) to get away from, and he came voluntarily. For Wooyoung’s sake, you hope it’s that way. Though you can’t entirely trust anyone here, you still wouldn’t wish for any of them to have gone through what you are now. 

For a hilarious second, your mind becomes preoccupied on the results of the trauma of your situation. How long will you need therapy? Will you ever be able to cope with what’s happened to you? Will you even have the opportunity, or will you flat out die first? 

You quickly decide that now is not the time to be worrying about things like that. For now, you really just need to figure out how to survive long enough for the police to find you. 

But… a disturbing thought comes to mind. If Wooyoung had people that looked for him, why hadn’t the police been able to find him here? Surely he had told people where he would be going, as you had. There had to have been someone that knew something was off and told the police about the farm. Why hadn’t they come, then? 

Your mind creeps to the thought of your phone. Who has it right now? 

Your food suddenly loses all of its appeal. You set the tray off to the side, pushing it away so you don’t have to look at it anymore. Wooyoung gives you a questioning look through the slot, but you can’t bring yourself to give him even a fake smile.

For certain, your phone was taken from you so as to stop you from communicating with the outside world, that’s a given. When San had asked for it, you honestly hadn’t even thought of it; but it’s obvious now. However… there are other reasons they would take your phone.

You feel a rush of blood drain from your face as you make your conclusion. With a single text from ‘you,’ anyone that could be concerned by your disappearance could be pacified. Your stomach rolls over and you regret eating your breakfast so rapidly. If this is, in fact, a reason that your phone was taken; it’s entirely possible that no one will realize you’ve been kidnapped. 

What could it take? A single text to your boss, saying you quit. A text to the group chat that you’ve decided to spend some more time with Mingi. A text to your parents, telling them that you’ve gone out of town. As long as your rent checks kept clearing, your landlord wouldn’t check on you. You really don’t have all too many friends, and Jungeun and Haseul would tell anyone that asked about you that you were sticking around with Mingi. 

But texts couldn’t placate them forever, could they? Or would they eventually stop worrying about you once they figured that you would be staying on this God-forsaken farm? They would have no reason to ask questions. They would have no reason to come find you. 

The realization is truly too sickening to even bring tears to your eyes. Rather, you stare through the door to Wooyoung. He stares back at you with the same concerned look. You wonder if he genuinely cares, or if he’s only worried that you’ve figured them out.

You grab your tray, taking care to not look at the food for too long. The last thing you need is to be more nauseous. You maneuver it through the slot, telling Wooyoung that you’ve finished. 

He looks more surprised, but he takes it from you nevertheless. He must sense that something is off, because he hardly gives you a goodbye before shutting the slot and heading off down the hall. 

Hah. He’s probably running to tell Hongjoong that he might have spilled some beans. But which ones? He wouldn’t know. 

You let yourself fall back onto the floor in front of the door. With your back pressed against the cold ground, you bring your hands up to rub at your face. What are you supposed to do with this information?

There’s no way to confirm that they’ve really done this besides waiting, which was pretty much the original plan anyways. If no help comes… ever… then clearly someone is posing as you with your phone. If help does come, then someone clearly figured out that something is wrong. 

Logically, you know that you have a password on your phone. Yes, it is Mingi’s birthday, but they wouldn’t know that! ...But they could probably guess pretty easily. Damn, why didn’t you have some cryptic, meaningless password? You squeeze your eyes shut, mentally scolding yourself. 

Whatever. It’s pointless to worry about now. If they did it, it’s done, it can’t be undone. Not unless you can get your hands on your phone, but you highly doubt there’s anyway that’s possible. 

You almost feel like laughing. Just, what, thirty minutes ago? An hour ago? You had hope that someone would realize you were missing. It is possible that they haven’t contacted your people, but they most likely will. How else would they be able to operate?

Thinking of all the people that are here, every single one of them has to have at least one person that cares about them. Just looking at the odds, one of their loved ones would have haved to worry enough to look into their disappearance if they hadn’t been reassured somehow. You can take a guess that someone must be sending regular communications to these people. There’s no other way, or they would have been found out by now. 

Jesus Christ.

.・。.・゜✭ ⧖ ・.・ ⧖ ✫・゜・。.

The rest of the morning passes without event. It’s a weekday, so you recall that there won’t be a specified lunch. You vaguely wonder if someone will bring you a snack or not, but you don’t mind either way.

You still don’t have much of an appetite. Imagine that.

You’re actually surprised when a knock comes to your door once more. You had peeled yourself off of the floor after a few minutes, but gone right back to laying down in bed. Overthinking is becoming an extreme sport for you, but, hey, what else are you supposed to do?

You stand up out of the bed, but have to catch your balance on the wall when you get a head rush. When the dizziness subsides, you walk to the door, plopping yourself in front of the slot.

You don’t have time to ask who it is before the slot slides open, and you’re greeted by San’s smiling face. 

You blink. Great. Just the guy you wanted to see. You don’t return his smile, you simply wait for him to say what it is he needs to say. Considering that it’s not Wooyoung at the door, you find it unlikely that you’ll be getting lunch. Why would anyone else bring it? 

“Hi!” San greets you, fully sitting down on the hallway floor. You continue to stare at him in silence.

He seems to be waiting for a response as he gets himself comfortable, resting his hands on the floor behind him. Once he seems to realize that you’re not going to respond, he gives you an awkward smile. “Alright, I- uhm- brought you lunch.” He holds up a single serving bag of chips and keeps giving you that uncomfortable smile. 

He slips it through the slot and you let it fall to the floor in front of you. His smile gets even more awkward, if that’s even possible. “Are you alright?” San asks hesitantly, his eyebrows furrowing in half-confusion half-concern. 

You blink back at him. Are you alright? Are you fucking alright? Christ on a bike, how many times are people going to ask if you’re alright?

And the audacity of San asking if you’re alright. Again, it’s almost enough to make you laugh. Was San not the one that took your phone? He is just as complacent in this as anyone else. For all you know, he could be the texter. He could be the one convincing everyone’s families that everything is just peachy-keen down here on the farm. That there is absolutely no reason to worry. 

San seems to realize that you’re not in a talking mood. “Okay… well…” he gulps, “besides bringing you lunch, I came to tell you something.” His eyes dart between you and his hands. Your demeanor must really be making him anxious. “Hongjoong set your Choosing Ceremony for tonight…” San trails off, staring up at you waiting for your response. “He was going to have Seonghwa come tell you, but I figured I’d save you the pain of that guy telling you.” He tries to laugh at his reasoning, but it comes out too rushed to be natural. He returns his gaze to his lap, apparently waiting to see if you’ll have anything to say this time.

Oh, you have things to say alright. Lot’s of them. San thinks that he’s doing you a favor? By, what, giving you terrible news? That you’re going to have what you can only imagine is some type of indoctrination ceremony, tonight? Wow, thanks a lot, San.

A little voice in your head begrudgingly admits that you’re much happier that San came to tell you rather than Seonghwa, but you ignore it for the moment. San took your phone. He is at least partially to blame. Even if he isn’t the one that sends the messages, he very much is at fault. He knew what he was doing. 

Even if he looks so sheepish now. 

San is still waiting for you to say something. 

“Thanks for lunch.” You monotonously say, reaching for the bag of chips without taking your gaze from San. He perks his head up at your response, facing you again. A smile lights up his face, his eyes crinkling shut with happiness.

“You’re welcome!” He exclaims. Jeez, why had your three words had such an effect on him? He continues smiling while you try to workout if you need to say anything else to him. He doesn’t make any indication that he’s going to leave. You hope he doesn’t want to stay and watch you eat, because you honestly still have no appetite. 

Though you had engaged the awkward silence the first time, now you’re the one that’s uncomfortable. Why the hell is he still smiling so big? “Uhm,” you mumble, trying to think of something non-offensive to say. It’s harder than you might think, but you do have an honest question. “What’s going to happen at the ceremony?”

San finally stops smiling to answer you. “Well, the Chosen have a feast, then you’re invited to the table. Once you eat your portion, God decides if your soul is pure enough to be Chosen, which I’m sure it will be!” He sounds serious as he explains it, but his tone picks up with his ending statement. 

That’s all fine and good. But what happens if you aren’t chosen? Honestly, what happens if you are? There are way too many questions regarding this damn ceremony. Why is this happening again? Oh yeah, because you just had to go looking for your missing best friend. You couldn’t have just let bygones be bygones?

You realize that San seems to be waiting again for a reply so you simply nod your head in understanding, despite not understanding even a little bit. Whatever gets him off your case. Seriously, the way that he’s just sitting there, intermittently staring and smiling at you is getting to be kind of unnerving. If Seonghwa had come to tell you, he would’ve just yelled at you through the door and left. 

“Well!” San claps his hands in front of him. “I have to go help with preparations. Enjoy your lunch!” He smiles at you a final time, not waiting for your response before shutting the slot.

You remain in your spot on the floor, finally looking down to the bag of chips in front of you. They’re still not appetizing.

.・。.・゜✭ ⧖ ・.・ ⧖ ✫・゜・。.

You’re not sure when to expect this ceremony thing to happen. San had simply said ‘tonight,’ which is what it now is. The sun has nearly set outside your window, which means it has to be later than normal dinner time. The dinner bell had never rang. Your stomach rumbles, and it seems that you’ve found your appetite again. 

You pace around your room, biting on your thumb nail absentmindedly. You’re getting rather anxious, honestly. What if some really fucked up shit is about to happen? Not that what you’ve already gone through hasn’t been fucked up, but this is a literal cult indoctrination ceremony. Who knows what’s going to happen to you?

If it’s any consolation, you figure that everyone else here has gone through it. And they’re all alright. For the most part.

For the upteenth time today, your gaze wanders to the book on your desk. There has to be something in that book that can prepare you for what’s going to happen, right? There’s got to be some section on ceremonies. Especially on the one that is probably considered to be the most important one. 

You find yourself walking to the desk, your hand falling to your side as you approach. It wouldn’t be so bad if you only read a little bit, right? Only the part that could prepare you for what you’re about to go through. It couldn’t hurt. You swallow hard as you reach out for the book, but you’re quickly interrupted.

Before you can really process it, you hear the lock turning in the door followed by the sound of the door slamming open. It makes you jump out of your skin, and you retract your outstretched hand faster than you ever have. 

You stumble backwards to the center of the room, aligning your sight so that you can see the person at your door. Not that you really need to see him to know who it is.

It’s obviously Seonghwa, but it does take you a second to recognize him. He’s wearing something completely different than you’ve seen anyone wearing since you got here. 

The most striking aspect of the outfit is the fedora. Closely followed by the knee length jacket that he’s wearing indoors. In August. Under the jacket, he’s simply wearing a black button down and black straight-leg pants, with black (imagine that) combat boots. He’s also adorned in silver accessories, decorating his otherwise plain outfit.

You take this in fast, too fast to notice the black stack in his hand before it comes flying at you.

“Get dressed.” He says as the stack hits you and bounces off of your front, splaying across the floor. You look down to see that he’s just thrown clothes at you. You probably could have intuited that from his statement, but your first instinct had been to see what the fuck he had just thrown at you. 

You give him a puzzled look. “Right now?” You don’t know why that’s the question that comes out, but it is. 

He stares blankly back at you. “Yes, right now.” 

As you bend to pick up the clothes, you realize that your hands are shaking. You try to steady them before Seonghwa notices, but you doubt that’s truly possible. He’s staring you down like a hawk watching a mouse. He probably thinks that you’re going to try and make a run for it past him.

Wait a minute… 

You finish collecting the clothes in your hands, straightening back up as you do. Without thinking very critically, you decide that you will try to make a break for it. You look past Seonghwa to your wide open door, bracing yourself to start running.

If you get past him, you can get outside. If you can get outside, you can run. Who needs a car? You can run and hide in the corn fields. They won’t be able to find you. How would they? 

In what you hope is a sudden movement, you look to Seonghwa and throw the stack of clothing back at him, aiming for his face region. You don’t wait to see if you hit him accurately or not. Instead, you start running.

You have to crouch to get around him, and you’re surprised to find that you actually do. You reach out and grab the edge of the doorway, trying to use it to propel yourself out of the door. Shit, this might just wor-

Seonghwa’s arms wrap around your waist before you can even finish the thought. The clothes must not have distracted him as much as you hoped they would. You yelp as he pulls you back into the room, slamming you into his chest. His necklaces dig into your spine as your body snaps to his.

“You stupid bitch.” He spits as he spins you around to face him. Before you can note how close his body is to yours, he’s forcing you backwards, further into the room. At the foot of the bed, he shoves you away from him, sending you back onto the bed. You bounce from the impact before setting yourself up on your elbows, ready to attempt to jump off again.

There’s no time for critical thought. You turn and set your feet onto the ground at the side of the bed, preparing to run again. Seonghwa meets you there, however. He steps his right leg between yours, locking you in place. Looking up at him now, you notice that you must’ve hit him with the clothes, because his fedora is gone. His hair is askew where his hat once was, and boy does he look pissed. 

You glance over to where he was standing and, sure enough, his hat is lying upside down on the floor. You’re still staring at his hat when you feel his hand. He grabs your chin forcefully, pulling you until you’re looking at him again. He grips you in such a way that your cheeks smoosh together, curling your lips outward. He squeezes harder than necessary, and again you’re struck by the look in his eyes. They somehow convey his pure hatred of you and his absolute adoration of the situation at the same time. You try to match his hatred of you with your own eyes, but you know that you probably look more scared than angry.

You are angry, but this is way scarier than it is infuriating. 

Seonghwa bends forward, making you lean further back against the bed. He puts his free hand to the right of your head, compressing the bed. He doesn’t let go of your face as he gets closer and closer to you. His chains are dangling so low they’re almost touching your chest. “When I let go of you,” he starts, leaning only ever closer, “you will dress yourself, or I will dress you. Nod if you understand.”

You want to spit on him. He’ll dress you? What a fucking pervert. You try to shake your head in his grasp. He chuckles at the feeling, but he doesn’t sound amused. He drops your chin. “That wasn’t a yes or no question, princess.” He stands back up, straightening himself to his full height. You sit up with him, not liking the power dynamic of him standing over you lying in bed. “Stay.”

He steps away from the bed, walking to the pile of clothes you had thrown at him. He picks his hat back up and settles it on his head once more, and you have half the mind to try and jump him from the back, but decide against it. You would end up right back where you started. He gathers the clothes in his arms and turns back to you, dumping the clothes next to you on the bed. “Put the clothes on.”

“No.” You defy, staring at him from your spot on the bed. 

Seonghwa smiles his unamused smile again. “Okay.” He quickly walks back around to where you’re sitting on the edge of the bed, repositioning himself between your legs again. His hands dart out quickly, grabbing the hem of your shirt and pulling it upward. 

You cry out once you realize what’s happening. He wasn’t fucking kidding about dressing you. On instinct, you clench your arms to your side, keeping your shirt from rising too far. You attempt to swat his hands away with yours as you keep your arms at your sides, but you can’t do too much. “Let go!” You yell, preparing to start kicking if you need to. 

“Are you going to dress yourself?” Seonghwa replies darkly, keeping the hem of your shirt in a vice grip.

“Yes! Fine! Just fucking stop!”

With that, he lets go of your shirt and steps back from the bed. You quickly smooth your shirt down where it had rode up, trying to calm yourself down. You take a deep breath, grabbing the first piece of clothing on the pile next to you. Coincidentally, it’s the shirt. 

You stare at Seonghwa, who is still just standing in front of you. “Can you leave?” He shakes his head. “Can you, like, turn around?” You groan. He shakes his head again. Wow. “What a fucking pervert.” You say it out loud before you can stop the thought. Your eyes go wide as you realize that you’ve just insulted him to his face, and you wait for his response.

Seonghwa laughs. He starts laughing. This time, it’s no unamused chuckle, either. It’s the same laugh that you heard in the chapel. He’s genuinely laughing at you. “(Y/n), trust me,” he pauses in his sentence to laugh some more. “I would never lower myself to the likes of you for sexual release.” He brings a hand up to dab at his eyes. 

Ouch. Not that you actually care, but damn, that was cold. He keeps laughing as you begrudgingly pull your shirt off, quickly yanking the next one on and buttoning it up. It’s a long-sleeve, black button up, much like the one Seonghwa seems to be wearing. You roll your eyes as you stand up to do your pants. 

Seonghwa keeps quietly laughing to himself as you turn around to change your pants. If he won’t turn, you will. You don’t care what he says, it’s perverted to watch some girl you hardly know change; even if she is your hostage that just tried to escape. You change the pants as quickly as you can, and, once again, note that they are quite similar to Seonghwa’s. 

As you button them, you briefly wonder how they could know what size pants you wear, but the thought quickly leaves your mind. You turn back around to face Seonghwa and sit back down to put the socks on. The last thing in the pile is a black blazer, which you quickly pull on. 

Seonghwa has finally stopped laughing by the time that it’s on. “Shoes are downstairs. Come.” He orders, motioning for you to follow him as he turns and heads for the door. 

You roll your eyes again. Why must he order you around like a dog? You stand and follow him into the hall. He’s waiting for you there. As you expect at this point, he wraps his hand around your upper arm and begins dragging you through the building. Fuck, your arm really is going to bruise.

Once you reach the bottom floor and the door to the outside, you spot the boots easily. Now how in the hell did they know your shoe size? Was that something that Mingi remembered? Wait, is Mingi going to be at the ceremony? Will he talk to you? Fuck. Mingi. You shake your head in an attempt to clear your thoughts of him. You need your wits about you right now, you can’t be worrying about Mingi running away from you.

Seonghwa lets go of you in order to grab the boots, telling you to sit on the stairs. You listen, waiting for him to hand them to you.

To your genuine surprise, he doesn’t. Instead, he kneels in front of you and slides your left foot into its boot before lacing and tying it for you. You want to ask why the hell he’s putting your shoes on for you, but he beats you with the answer. “You won’t be able to do it right.”

You scoff. “I think I’m perfectly capable of tying my own shoes.”

Seonghwa glances up at you, giving you a scoff of his own. “You didn’t even button your shirt right, princess.” He slides your right foot into the right boot.

You look down at the buttons on your shirt, and you’re pissed to see that he’s right. You had skipped a button on the top and your shirt is, consequently, hanging askew. “I’ll fix that, too.” He says as he finishes lacing the right shoe.

He reaches up to your shirt, popping open the first button before you realize what he’s doing and swat his hand away. “I can do it, perv.” If he’s going to keep calling you princess, he’s going to get a nickname of his own. You quickly unbutton and rebutton your shirt, hoping no one decides that this is the time they must walk down the stairs. 

Thankfully, no one does. When you’re finished, Seonghwa stands once more, waiting for you to follow. You do, allowing him to grab your arm again. For the first time, you wonder where your ceremony will be taking place. The cafeteria seems like the likely candidate, considering the feast aspect that San was talking about. 

But Seonghwa quickly proves that theory wrong. He opens the front door, pulling you outside with him. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out where you’re headed.

Your path quickly heads for the chapel, and you’re there before you know it. Considering the fact that you aren’t struggling, it must make the walk go faster. It sure seems that way. 

Seonghwa eagerly climbs the steps with you in tow, and throws open the door. 

Instead of the usual pews, you’re greeted by a giant dining table. Seriously, this table must be big enough for 50 people. All of the pews have been cleared out to make space for the table and its accompanying chairs; where they went, you have no idea. There’s absolutely no trace of them. The room is otherwise empty, besides, of course, the throne on the stage and the golden hourglass behind it. 

Seonghwa guides you around the table to the far back wall, on the right side of the stage. Before you can realize what you’re looking at, Seonghwa opens it. A door. The inside is dark. A dusty smell radiates out with the open door, wafting over you and nearly making you cough. Jesus, when was the last time this door was opened? Before you can think about it too much, Seonghwa pushes you into the room, letting go of you in the process.

“Stay.” He tells you, smirking. Almost as soon as the word leaves his mouth, he closes the door in your face. You fumble around, trying to feel for a lightswitch. You hear an outside lock clicking into place as you find the light cord in the middle of the room.

You pull it down and light floods the room. You take in your surroundings quickly, and find yourself locked in a simple storage closet. 

Fuck.

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THE ANSWER: XII

Kim Hongjoong doesn’t like the word ‘cult.’ He prefers ‘sect.’ pairing: ateez x fem reader genre: cult au, thriller, angst check warnings on AO3

← previous || next → || masterlist chapter word count: 5,089

Seonghwa’s explanation does nothing to help the anxiety now growing within you. You continue staring at his side profile as he makes his way toward the stairs at the end of the hall. 

The first time you had seen Seonghwa, he had honestly been too imposing and intimidating for you to really take in his features. From your angle in his arms, however, there’s not much else to take in. As much as you don’t want to admit it, he’s quite handsome. His side profile is strong in the way he holds his face, but soft in its features. You can almost imagine how beautiful he must look laughing, but your mind stops you. This man wants you dead. Why are you fantasizing about his smile?

You’re happy he doesn’t take his eyes off of his path, because you just know he would make some snide comment if he caught you staring. After your realization, you try and focus your eyes anywhere other than his face. Unfortunately, there isn’t that much to take in.

You are thankful to be out of that stifling room after probably over 12 hours, but, truly, these hallways could do with some decoration. If your boss was here… 

The walk through the halls continues in silence. For a moment, you debate trying to get Seonghwa to drop you. You probably could do it, but where would you go after? You couldn’t exactly escape him. He’d simply be able to snatch you again, and probably wouldn’t be as gentle with his grasp.

Plus, do you really want to put this off? You hadn’t really thought about it, but it makes sense that Hongjoong would want to talk to you. Away from everyone, after you’ve caught the drift. That’s not to say that you’re not nervous, because you are. With every step that Seonghwa takes closer to Hongjoong, the anxiety builds in your stomach.

What’s going to happen? Will he only speak to you? Threaten you again? Punish you for trying to run? While he’s not the most physically intimidating man you’ve ever met, you don’t doubt he could do some serious damage with a weapon. You remember the look in his eyes this morning in the chapel and it nearly makes you shudder. Hongjoong could definitely be creepy, and you wouldn’t put physical violence past him. 

“Seonghwa,” you start, your voice coming out quieter than you had wanted. “Can I use the bathroom first?”

It was the first thing that came to mind. You might not be able to escape, but at least you’d be able to stall a little bit. Despite just thinking to yourself that it would probably be better to not put it off, the anxiety building in your stomach is starting to tell you otherwise.

Seonghwa stops walking, turning his head to face you in his arms. Oh God, he looks mad. “Are you fucking serious?” His voice is much louder than yours, bouncing off the walls of the silent hallway. He’s staring at you with so much anger you could think you had just personally insulted his mother.

You quickly nod your head, just wanting him to stop looking at you. He rolls his eyes, letting out a sigh before veering down one of the corridors to the nearest bathroom. He sets you down in front of the door, but doesn’t let go of your arm.

“What do you need to do?” Seonghwa holds onto you, preventing you from reaching out for the door.

“Excuse me?” Your eyes go wide at his question. “That’s way too personal.”

He sighs. “You are so sensitive, my God.” He looks around the hallway like he’s expecting a live studio audience to agree with him. Seonghwa plasters a fake smile onto his face, glaring down at you. “Princess, how long is this going to take?”

You shake your arm in his grasp, “I’m not gonna answer that, just let me go.” 

Seonghwa’s smile falls, and he rolls his eyes once more. “Fine,” he drops your arm, “don’t keep Hongjoong waiting.” 

You barely hear the last part, because you’re opening the bathroom door and shuffling in as soon as he releases you. Quickly shutting and locking the door, the lights automatically turn on. Well what the hell do you do now? 

You catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror, and realize how ridiculous you look in your pajamas. God, no wonder Seonghwa was teasing you. You should’ve asked to change. You step closer to the mirror, trying to fix any aspects of your appearance that seem out of place. Thankfully, you actually look pretty decent, considering the circumstances. 

Pacing around the small bathroom for another couple minutes, you decide that you’re probably stretching your luck a bit. You quickly use the bathroom, wash your hands, and then open the door back to the hallway.

You do expect Seonghwa when you open the door, but you don’t expect him to be millimeters away from you, which is where he ends up being. He startles you and you stumble backwards into the bathroom, jumping away from him. He lets out a single, dry laugh at your reaction before gesturing you back to him with his fingers.

You oblige, stepping towards him and the door. His hand wraps around your upper arm again, and he pulls you back to the hallway. Thankfully, he doesn’t make any move to pick you up again. You don’t want to risk it, so you keep up his pace as he retains his grip on you. 

The two of you remain in silence, making your way down the stairs and through the subsequent halls. Once you’re to the bottom floor, entering the lobby, you wonder where you’ll be meeting Hongjoong. The cafeteria? The chapel? Some sort of spooky torture room you’ve yet to see? 

Your question is somewhat answered soon, as Seonghwa yanks you to the front door with him. When he opens the door, his grip becomes even tighter. It’s starting to make your arm throb, but you’d rather not show Seonghwa any signs of weakness. 

He pulls you outside, and you quickly try to take in your surroundings. It’s now night time, and you realize how dark it is on the grounds. The only sources of illumination are the couple sconces on the front of each building, but they provide very little light for the rest of the field. The moon is bright enough to keep you from stumbling over uneven ground, and you take a look up to recognize the phase. A waning gibbous. 

Looking back around, you recognize that your car is still nowhere to be found. You wonder when they could have possibly moved it without you realizing. During breakfast? That was the only time when you had been entirely distracted, with Mingi’s outburst and all. 

… Wait. Was Mingi…? 

No. Nope. You cut off the thought before it can even finish itself. There is absolutely no way. Mingi would never. Even if he’s been brainwashed and abused, he would never do something like that. But he had invited you here… Nope! No. You are not going to think about that right now. For now, you are perfectly content with your answer that Mingi would never knowingly put or keep you in danger.

Your question about your destination is answered rather quickly, as Seonghwa makes on the path toward the chapel. Ick. So far, the chapel is definitely the creepiest place you’ve seen, and you are not too keen on returning. The way Hongjoong acted this morning in there… you do not want a repeat of the show. Honestly, he seems almost like a different person when he’s in that building.

Not that he’s not creepy either way, he just gains a different aura. 

When you and Seonghwa reach the chapel, you nearly trip over the steps due to how fast Seonghwa is going up them. He clears them in milliseconds, acting like he’s seen water in a desert. You stumble up behind him as he uses his free hand to open one of the doors. He then shoves you in in front of him, finally letting go of you.

You bring your hand up to rub the spot on your arm where he had been gripping. You lift your arm a bit, frowning when you see the red mark left on your skin. Did he really have reason to think you would try and esca- actually, don’t answer that question. 

After taking in the damage, you remember where you are. You hear Seonghwa pulling the doors closed behind you as you survey the room again. It looks pretty much the same as this morning, except now there are quite a few candles lit. They reside on each end of every pew, creating a rather nice, soft glow.

Your eyes trail along the aisle of candles, following them to the back of the chapel. Hongjoong actually isn’t the first thing you notice.

Rather, it’s the hourglass. In the candle light, the metal attains a sort of other-worldly glow. Reflections of light dance on its surface, causing sparkles that keep you from staring in one place for too long. It’s mesmerizing. 

The only reason you look away is because of Seonghwa. He’s come to stand directly behind you, putting his hand on the small of your back. He not-so-gently pushes you down the aisle, towards where you now notice Hongjoong. 

He’s smiling again. Does he ever not have that creepy ass smile on his face? It makes him look so much more deranged, and you wonder if he does it on purpose. Of course, he’s sitting on the same throne from earlier, wearing the same weird matching outfit with Seonghwa. The candle light waving over his face gives him an almost sickly appearance, creating shadows and highlights where they shouldn’t be. 

Once Seonghwa has gotten you to the edge of the stage, he moves his hand to your shoulder. “Kneel.” 

Your gaze at Hongjoong breaks to look over at Seonghwa. Did he seriously just tell you to kneel? “I’m not kneeling you psych-'' you're cut off by a sharp shove on your shoulders. At the same time, Seonghwa brings his knee up to meet the back of yours, forcing your legs to give out under you. 

Your arms instinctively fly out to catch you, stopping the fall from hurting too badly. Now on your knees, you stare up at Seonghwa and vow to yourself that you’ll get him back for this, somehow, someday. You try to shove yourself off of the ground, but Seonghwa’s hands are quick to stop you. He moves behind you and grabs both of your shoulders, locking his arms to keep you down. 

On your knees in front of Hongjoong, you finally realize the vulnerability of your situation. Here you are, alone with two men that have individually threatened your life. Two men that have authority positions in a cult. You have no means of protecting yourself, and no one with any capacity to help you in the moment knows where you are. Anything could happen.

With Seonghwa behind you, you have no one to glare at except for Hongjoong himself. He sure seems to be enjoying the show, his cocky little smile having grown wider. His eyes flit up to Seonghwa and they have some sort of exchange outside of your realm of understanding. 

“Hi, (Y/n).” When Hongjoong looks back to you, he finally speaks. “Cute pajamas.” He glances over you, and you suddenly feel much too exposed.

You blink up at him. That’s how he’s going to start this? You don’t answer him, opting to continue glaring up at him. 

Hongjoong chuckles when he realizes you’re not going to respond and leans forward in his seat. “Well, I’m sure you have questions.” He turns his palms up to the air, waving them around a bit. “Ask away.”

Your plain expression breaks. You stop glaring at him and your confusion grows on your face. What the hell does he want you to ask him and why? About a million questions come to mind. They jumble over themselves, creating one large mess in your brain. You stare up at Hongjoong, your mind trying to grasp onto a single thread. Your biggest question is why, but you can’t very well just say that one word. Instead, you ask the next best thing.

“What do you want with me?”

Hongjoong leans back again, looking away to consider your question. He brings a hand up to rest under his chin, his face scrunching up as he answers. “That’s a pretty broad question.”

“Is Mingi okay?”

Now Hongjoong looks confused. “Why wouldn’t he be?” You honestly don’t know why you asked it either, and Hongjoong gives you no further answer after his follow up question. 

For a split second, you try to not ask your next question, but end up spitting it out anyways. “What the hell is going on here?” 

“Are you religious, (Y/n)?” Hongjoong raises his eyebrows, knitting his fingers together underneath his chin. His inflection is almost joking, but you can tell that his question is serious.

You think about your answer, trying to decide what will make Hongjoong react with the least hostility. Will he be offended if you say no? Will he be offended if you say yes? Truthfully, you’re not religious. Not that you have anything against sane religion, of course; religion is simply not something that has ever been a big part of your life. 

You decide to go with the truth. “I’m not.” 

Hongjoong smiles. “I don’t suppose you read any of The Answer?” He looks at you with anticipation, and you have a feeling he’ll like your answer regardless. This must’ve been the question he was waiting to ask.

“Of course not.”

Hongjoong nods, his smile growing. “I figured as much, it normally takes a bit of a push,” he waves a hand, pushing the air in front of him. “Since you seem particularly uninterested, let me give you the gist of it.” 

You can’t help your expression as it turns into one of disgust. The last thing on planet earth that you want right now is to have Hongjoong explain his little cult to you. As you’re about to open your mouth to give him a stern ‘no thank you,’ he starts speaking, stunning you into silence with just his first sentence.

“Cutting to the chase, I’m a prophet.” Your jaw goes slack as you stare up at him. No fucking way is he serious right now. “God speaks to me and I pass on his messages here.”

You can’t help it. You start laughing. As your body starts to shake with your laughter, Seonghwa’s grip on your shoulders increases. You hardly notice, however, too caught up in the hilarity of the situation in front of you. You bring a hand up to cover your mouth, trying to stifle the noises. “I’m sorry but,” a fit of giggles cuts you off. “But you’re joking, right?” Obviously, it does make sense to you. Not the prophet part, but Hongjoong claiming to be one. But it’s so funny to hear it said out loud. It almost makes you hysterical.

Instead of Hongjoong answering, Seonghwa does. “Does it look like he’s joking?” He has to raise his voice to be heard over you, and it almost is enough to make you stop laughing entirely. Almost. 

A few giggles continue to escape as you have to move your hands to your eyes to swipe tears of laughter away. At this point, they might be tears of hysteria, but you wouldn’t be able to tell the difference. You chance a glance up at Hongjoong, who is no longer smiling at you. Rather, he’s staring at you with a look of such plain indifference that you bite your lip to stop any further laughter.

“I don’t care whether you believe me or not,” he says, his expression unchanging, “but you will respect me.” For perhaps the first time, his voice is lacking the lilt of arrogance that you’ve come to associate with him. It’s plain and hard. He doesn’t make an attempt to charm you. “God commands it.”

The tone of his voice stops you from laughing again, though that last sentence nearly gets you. This man is off his rocker.

Despite wanting to give him a piece of your mind, you can’t think of a response. You are simply too dumbfounded by the level of insanity. Instead, you continue staring up at him, waiting for whatever he says next.

“I’ve been through this countless times, (Y/n), and every single one of you has come to praise my name.” Hongjoong continues staring with steely indifference. The tone of his voice growing only harder by the second. “I expect you to be no different. Whether it takes a week or a year, you’ll bend. They always do.”

His newest statement leaves you with even more questions. Is every single person here a kidnapping victim? Did everyone have a similar situation to the one that you are in right now? Christ, did Mingi go through this? 

It doesn’t even seem possible. It’s hard to imagine that every person you’ve seen, every person you met, was once a strong-minded, free-thinking individual. There must be personalities that have a predisposition to brainwashing. You refuse to believe that they were all in the same position as you. 

You have to decide now if you’re trying to survive, or if you’re trying to be a pain in Hongjoong’s side. If you make some snide comment now, you can’t imagine he will take it lightly. But, if you suddenly start acting entirely different, will he notice? Does he want you to disobey him? 

“Let me just get this straight then.” You can’t stop your curiosity. “You, Hongjoong, are a prophet.” You speak slowly and carefully, trying to not sound too offensive. “God speaks to you... and you made a cult out of these messages. You’ve kidnapped, what, forty, fifty people... and forced them to live on a farm and worship you.” So much for that plan. “Is that right?”

Hongjoong’s expression finally cracks. A smile casts along his face, evidently liking your reply. “That’s quite right, with two minor exceptions.” His smile only grows bigger. “We are a sect, not a cult. And we don’t kidnap people, we save them.”

“Plus,” Seonghwa pipes up behind you, “A lot of them come willingly.” His voice is low, but his grip on your shoulders loosens as you feel him bend down behind you. He brings his head down to nearly rest on your right shoulder, his face ghosting along the side of your head. You turn your head slightly toward him, your eyes darting over his face as he starts smiling. “Like our dear Mingi.”

He whispers it, but it’s certainly loud enough to hear. Seonghwa starts laughing as your eyes betray your shock. Hongjoong joins him, clearly enjoying your reaction as much as Seonghwa.

Well, guess that answers that question. But why in the ever loving fuck would Mingi come here willingly? What made him think that dropping everything and joining a cult was the only way to go? If he had gone willingly, why hadn’t he brought you with him?

Maybe he’s lying. No, he has to be lying. 

Their laughter dies down as your face becomes resolved. “You’re lying,” you whisper, staring at the ground. Whether you really believe what you’ve said or not, you don’t know. You just know that you can’t deal with Seonghwa and Hongjoong’s laughter ringing in your ears, bouncing off of the walls of the chapel. 

“What makes you think that?” Seonghwa asks from beside you, his face still next to yours. You peel your eyes off of the floor to look up at Hongjoong. He’s looking right back at you with exaggerated curiosity. His eyes are wide, his eyebrows raised, with just a hint of a smile. 

You don’t know how to answer Seonghwa’s question. You don’t even know if you truly disbelieve him. You quickly try to think of something that would disprove Seonghwa, searching the edges of your mind for something that would mean Mingi had been forced to join. “If Mingi came willingly,” you turn your face back toward Seonghwa, “he would have brought me, too.” 

You watch as a smile cracks along Seonghwa’s face once more. “Do we tell her?” He asks, looking up to Hongjoong. Your eyes snap up to Hongjoong, who is now trying to contain his smile for once. He’s not doing a very good job at it, either. 

Tell you what? Certainly something you don’t want to hear. What could there be, pertaining to Mingi’s disappearance, that you wouldn’t want to hear? You search for the answer for only a second. Just as your mind makes the deduction on its own, you see Hongjoong nod and hear Seonghwa’s reply.

“He was trying to get away from you.” 

You don’t really process the way that Hongjoong and Seonghwa start laughing again. Rather, your mind spins with the revelation. Of course, that would be the only thing that would make sense. If Mingi had come willingly and not brought you with, that must mean that he hadn’t wanted you to come. He didn’t want to have you with him. He didn’t want you. 

Why? What had you done? You’ve racked your mind for months, wondering why Mingi had left. Wondering why he hadn’t told you. Wondering what you could have done differently. You hadn’t been able to find a single explanation in the months past, and you can’t imagine that you’ll be able to find one now. You have absolutely no recollection of doing anything to Mingi that could have made him want to leave you. 

If Mingi had come here to get away from you, then does that make it your fault that he’s here, in the clutches of a cult? Does it make it your fault that you’re also in this situation? All the more reason you have to get him out of here.

But, then again, that begs the question. Would Mingi even want your help? Why had he invited you if he wanted to stay away from you? Is he actually happy to see you? Had he invited you because he felt ready for you to be in his life again? Or is this just some plot to recruit more members for Hongjoong? 

You want to believe that Seonghwa is lying to you, but, for whatever reason, you know that he’s not. That Mingi had some reason, even if it was so insignificant that you couldn’t remember it. There was no other explanation. He would have had no other reason to leave without telling you anything about it.

This realization almost sends you reeling, but the enormity of the situation before you keeps you somewhat in your right mind. You can’t afford to cry now, you can’t afford to lose your cool or even begin to comprehend what has just been revealed. At hand, the most important thing is to get out of this room before Hongjoong or Seonghwa causes you physical harm (or, at least, any more physical harm). The mental wound is enough. 

You need to get out of this place.

“Hongjoong,” you whisper, not taking your eyes off of the floor in front of you. You don’t want to see his face as he hears you beg. “Please, just let me go.” You feel wetness appear at your eyes for what feels like the upteenth time today, already knowing what his answer will be. So much for not crying again.

You blink and watch as a tear escapes your eye, falling to the floor. Without looking up, you see Seonghwa rise from your side. He stands before walking behind you, retaking his spot directly behind you. You hear Hongjoong stand, his shoes clicking down the stairs before you. In the silence of the room, the various medals hanging off of his jacket clink together and make sounds that seem impossibly loud. 

You don’t look up until his shoes appear in your line of sight, and he stops directly before you. Your angle on the floor makes him tower over you, blocking your entire line of sight until everything is him. The candles glow in your peripheral vision, making it seem like Hongjoong himself has a golden aura. The light reflecting off of the hourglass behind him has the same effect, and Hongjoong gains a halo above you. His face is cast in shadow, but you can still see the sneer plastered on his face. 

Hongjoong bends his knees before collapsing onto them in front of you. His face goes slack as he mirrors your position, folding his legs underneath himself before raising his hands up to you.

For a split second, you worry he’s going to grab your neck. Instead, he rests his hands on either side of your face, locking your head into position. His hands are burning hot, so hot you could swear he must have a fever. You instinctively try to jerk your face out of his hands, but he strengthens his grip and is able to keep you in place.

“Don’t cry.” Hongjoong coos to you as he wipes your tears with his thumbs, nearly identically to the way Mingi had only a day earlier. Has it really only been a day? More tears begin to brim over your eyes only to be immediately wiped by Hongjoong’s searing touch. “God is here for you.” 

You don’t know if he means metaphorically or literally, if he’s referring to himself or not. You can’t find it in you to formulate a response for him, instead opting to cry harder. Sobs begin to heave out of your chest and, to your horror, Hongjoong pulls your face closer to his. 

He angles your head downward, pressing a kiss to your forehead. His lips are just as hot as his hands, if not hotter. The sensation burns, and you’re quickly scrambling to pull away from him once more. He lets you pull away, but he doesn’t let you get far. Wiping your tears one last time, he lets go of your face and wraps his arms around your body, tugging you close to him. 

You process his heat before the fact that he’s hugging you. Wrapped in his arms, his warmth is nearly overwhelming. Anywhere he touches, your skin itches to retract away. But he’s hugging you. Hongjoong, a supposed Prophet, is crushing you to his chest. Hongjoong, cult leader extraordinaire, attempting to… comfort you. 

You continue to shake in his arms, mentally begging for the moment to be over. He’s so hot. Even in spots where there are layers of clothing, his touch is burning. Your face is pressed uncomfortably into his shoulder, his long hair tickling against your forehead. Your arms hang limp at your sides and Hongjoong squeezes you tighter, and you pray that he drops you soon. 

If there is a God, he must hear your prayers. Hongjoong releases his grip on you shortly after, retaking his place on his knees in front of you. He completely lets you go this time, and you revel in the feeling of the air touching your skin where his body had been. Your tears cease almost immediately; you’re not wanting to give Hongjoong another reason to get that close to you ever again. 

You paw at your cheeks to wipe away the remainder of any of your tears. Hongjoong grins, watching you intently as he rises back to his feet. You maintain eye contact with him and he resumes his position, until he breaks it to look back at Seonghwa. 

After a brief glance, Seonghwa’s hands leave your shoulders for the second time. Hongjoong reconnects your eyes before extending both of his hands to you. You blankly stare at his palms before realizing that he means for you to take them. 

As little as you want to touch him again, you decide you’d rather have Hongjoong gently help you up rather than have Seonghwa yank on you again. You lift your arms, placing your hands into his and starting to unfold your legs from beneath you. He gently lifts you, pulling up on your arms until you’re standing before him once more. 

He doesn’t let go of your hands. “Is there anything else you would like to discuss?” He’s not smiling, but he sounds genuine enough. 

The only question you can think to ask slips out. “What are you going to do to me?” Your voice cracks halfway through the sentence, making you sound more afraid than you feel. Honestly, fear is not the emotion at the forefront of your mind. Its sadness, betrayal.

Hongjoong chuckles. He brings your hands up so that they’re resting between the two of you, at about stomach height. He adjusts his fingers so that he can reach the backs of your hands with his thumbs, and rubs them as he had rubbed your face. “Wouldn’t a surprise be more fun?” His response is nothing you want. 

You shake your head, not able to stop yourself. Hongjoong’s smile grows wider as you pull your hands out of his, leaving his hands floating in the air, cradling something that no longer remains. The dancing light of the candles make his hands shrink and grow, and his picture before you is almost grotesque. He almost entirely blocks the hourglass from his position, but he still doesn’t block its reflected light. While he is in shadow, he glows.

“Seonghwa,” Hongjoong nods, using his hands to gesture you away.

Seonghwa’s grip returns on your upper arm, but you don’t look away from Hongjoong. Seonghwa yanks you around, but you turn to keep your eyes on Hongjoong. You feel too vulnerable, too exposed. He watches as Seonghwa pulls you toward the door, bringing a hand up to wave to you. 

“Goodnight, (Y/n),” he calls from the end of the room, “sleep well. You have a busy few days ahead of you.”

Seonghwa opens one of the doors as the two of you approach, and the cool night air blasts into the room. He pulls you outside, leaving the door to swing shut on its own behind you. You watch in slow motion as Hongjoong is blocked by the door, inch by inch. The door slams shut, but you can still see his afterimage on the white paint. 

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THE ANSWER: XI

Kim Hongjoong doesn’t like the word ‘cult.’ He prefers ‘sect.’ pairing: ateez x fem reader genre: cult au, thriller, angst check warnings on AO3

← previous || next → || masterlist chapter word count: 4,337

The silence in your room is deafening. You remain on the bed, trying to work through what had just happened in your mind.

Seonghwa had just told you he wanted you dead and threatened to beat you. You’re presumably locked in this small room, with absolutely no escape. You’re stranded in the middle of nowhere, your car gone and lacking the allies that could help you escape. The leader of this place also threatened your life, and must be clinically insane. 

But hey, at least you’re not dead, right? You let out a single, wry chuckle. 

Trying to quell the panic starting to course through your body, you attempt to think rationally. There are people that know where you are. You told Jungeun and Haseul that you would be back today. They have the farm’s address. When you don’t let them know how it went by tonight, they’ll have to know that something is up. They know that you’re not the type of person to just leave them hanging.

Your boss also knows where you are, somewhat. You had told him that you would be gone for the weekend. When you don’t show up for work tomorrow, with absolutely no notice, he’ll know that something happened. Knowing your boss, though, he probably wouldn’t even notice you hadn’t shown up until one of your coworkers asked where you were. He’s going to be too busy admiring ‘Adam’ for the next few days. You roll your eyes thinking about that man’s obsession with decor. Who would want to stare at two nude portraits while drinking a coffee? 

You sigh. Even if your boss doesn’t notice, and even if Haseul or Jungeun doesn’t worry when they don’t hear from you, they will definitely know that something is wrong within a few days. Hopefully they wouldn’t come to find out what’s happening for themselves, though. You shudder, thinking of one of your poor friends coming looking for you and finding herself in the same exact situation. No, hopefully they would be smart enough to get the cops. Hopefully.

You hang your head. What the fuck are you supposed to do until then? What do you do until someone notices that you’re missing and comes to find you?

Rationally, you figure that you should probably go along with whatever happens. If they think that you’re being obedient, then they have no reason to hurt you. However, the thought of even pretending to follow along turns your stomach. There’s no way in hell that you would give Hongjoong that satisfaction. 

Even though you don’t know much about him, you’ve seen enough cult documentaries to assume some things about his personality. He must be a narcissist, with an insane God complex. He’s clearly charismatic, gaining the loyalty of nearly fifty people (if that’s truly how many members there are). From your own first meeting with him, you remember finding him handsome, and maybe even a little charming. The way his voice flows so smoothly captivates people, like he plans every conversation he has while also making it feel effortless. Hongjoong must be smart. Insanely smart. 

You wonder for a second if he believes the things he preaches. He’s crazy either way; but whether or not he truly believes these delusions he has determines how crazy. If he honestly believes what he tells these people, that would make him less disturbing. If he doesn’t, however, and he’s merely leading these people on for fun… 

He’s fucking sick. Either way, you don’t want to obey him. He’s convinced too many people of his lies, he took Mingi from you. 

Fuck, you had kind of forgotten about Mingi. What’s he doing right now? His chores? He thinks that you’ve left him. How will he react when he finds out that you’re still here? Is he so far gone that he’ll be happy that you’ve been locked up and are being held captive? Or will he know it’s wrong? Fuck, you don’t even know. 

That begs the question, will Seonghwa (and, presumably, Hongjoong) even tell anyone that you’re still here? Or will they just keep it a secret until they eventually kill you? Are they going to kill you? Would they even have reason to? You do suppose that Hongjoong did say he would kill you… but he didn’t exactly say under what circumstances. Plus, Seonghwa had said plain to your face that Hongjoong wanted you alive.

But why? What’s stopping him from just killing you now? The sick excitement of recruiting another person to worship him? His giant ego wanting another person under his command? It’s probably something like that.

By God, you’re not going to give him that satisfaction. 

All you have to do is survive the next few days until someone notices your absence. That shouldn’t be too hard.

Picking your head up, you take in the room once more. It looks exactly the same as you had left it. You stand, walking to the window to gaze out at the field. There’s still no one that you can see. Where did everybody go? Turning your attention to the frame of the window, you try to find the lock. Not that you would be able to get out through the window, considering the four story drop, but you look nonetheless. It would be nice to get some fresh air. 

Unfortunately, you can’t locate the lock. You put your hands underneath the fame and push up. attempting to get the window to slide. It doesn’t budge. Figures. 

You move on to take in more of the room. Your clothes are still littered around the floor, flung about from your frantic searching earlier. You wonder if you’ll be given clean clothes to match everyone else’s. Probably. If you ever end up leaving this room again.

You sit back onto the edge of the bed, leaning your arms back to hold yourself steady. Your eyes naturally find the desk opposite of the bed, and you’re surprised to see something new. A book.

Had that been there when you tore your bag apart earlier? Or had someone come in while you were at breakfast? Or was it when you had tried to leave? 

Whenever it got there, a sinking feeling in your stomach tells you that you already know what it is. The black binding looks just the same. 

You stand and take the few steps to the desk, pausing in front of the chair. Looking down, it’s just what you think. THE ANSWER. It looks exactly like the copies in the chapel, a black cover with silver embossed details. Picking the book up, you debate opening it up.

On one hand, reading it and knowing just what sort of crazy this place is might be beneficial. On the other, you don’t want to read some brainwashing cult material. Reading the book would also mean showing interest, which is the opposite of what you want to do. You weigh the options in your head. 

Glaring down at the book, you drop it back onto the desk. It lands askew, no longer looking pristine in its position. No way in hell are you reading that thing.

A sudden bell rings out through the hallways, startling you. Instinctively, you turn toward the door, but, of course, nothing has changed. After the bell finishes ringing, you strain to listen for people. The fact that you still haven't seen a single person (other than Seonghwa) since San and Mingi left you alone is getting to be a bit creepy.

Still, you know they all must be around somewhere. When you don’t hear anyone outside the door, you turn back to the window. Outside, you can finally see people pouring into the door below you. From all different directions there are people moving toward the building. For a moment, you try to find Mingi, but you fail to spot his red hair in the crowd.

Flopping back onto the bed, you wonder when your lunch will be.

.・。.・゜✭ ⧖ ・.・ ⧖ ✫・゜・。.

Lucky for you, it’s not too much later. Maybe thirty or so minutes after the bell had originally rang, a knock comes at your door. It startles you once more, making you sit up straight toward the door.

On the bottom half of the door, a slot slides open. It opens from the outside, and it’s probably about ten inches wide and four inches tall, and only about a foot and a half off of the ground. You get off the bed to investigate.

You walk to the door, crouching in front of it. You keep your distance, not wanting anything from the outside to be able to reach you, as you move to be eye-level with the opening. You’re greeted with another pair of eyes staring right back at you, spooking you. You stumble back, landing on your butt and fully sitting on the floor now. 

The eyes crinkle up in a smile, “Hey, (Y/n),” A somewhat familiar voice says through the door. “It’s Wooyoung!” He leans back to show more of his face, bringing a hand up to give you a small wave. 

Stunned, you do the same. “Hello, Wooyoung.” 

“I brought you lunch!” He smiles, leaning off to the side to grab something that you can’t quite see. He lifts up a tray, heaping with food. “I’ll slide it through, please grab it so it doesn’t fall.” He makes eye contact with you, nodding a bit before coaxing the tray through the slot. You reach your hands out, grabbing the end and accepting the food.

“Thank you,” you resume eye contact with Wooyoung as soon as you can. As satisfying as it would have been to simply let the tray drop, this place has good food. And you had totally forgone breakfast. Your stomach lets out a grumble as you look down to the serving. Wooyoung must have gotten you a serving of everything, there’s so much food on the plate.

“Don’t mention it!” Wooyoung smiles again, waving his hands as if to brush off your gratitude. “If you remember, I work in the kitchens, so it’s really no big deal.”

Right, Wooyoung is in charge of food. Not being able to resist anymore, you grab a bread roll and start eating. Wooyoung continues to watch you through the door, scooting backwards to rest his back onto the door opposite yours. 

You make it through a few sides before your mind starts to think rationally again. “Say, Wooyoung,” you set the tray to your left, moving it away from you. “Does Hongjoong know you’re here?”

Wooyoung giggles. “Well, he was the one that asked me to feed you… so yes.”

You nod, scrunching your face up. “So there’s no chance you’d open the door for me then, huh?”

“Sorry, no.” 

Continuing to nod, you turn your attention back to your food. At least you tried. Damnit, Wooyoung is a good cook. 

You finish eating in silence, Wooyoung sitting across from you the whole time. Shortly thereafter, he leaves, letting you know that he’ll be back with dinner later. 

Before he can get too far, you call out to him, “Wait, wait, Wooyoung,” you hear his footsteps stop and then backtrack to your door. He opens the slot in the door once more, peering in at you in question.

“How can I use the restroom?” 

Wooyoung cranes his neck down the hallway, seemingly looking for something. “I can send Seonghwa up if you need to.” He turns back toward you, looking concerned.

“Why- why Seonghwa?” You’re not too eager on the thought of seeing him again. Especially not on the thought of him chaperoning you to the bathroom. 

“He’s the only one allowed to open the door- well, besides Hongjoong, of course. Would you rather I got him?” Wooyoung continues to stare at you with genuine concern.

Wow, that’s somehow even worse. “No, I’m good for now. Thanks, though.” You give Wooyoung a tight smile, appreciating that he seems like he really wants to help you. His concerned look breaks to return a smile.

With that, he really does leave, and you listen to his steps become inaudible as he walks away.

.・。.・゜✭ ⧖ ・.・ ⧖ ✫・゜・。.

Waiting for the dinner bell is almost torture. Seriously, when was the last time you had to entertain yourself with absolutely nothing for almost five hours? Your only option for enrichment is the book sitting on the desk, and you’re loath to read it. Instead, you switch off between pacing around and reclining on the bed. Is this how zoo animals feel?

Sure enough, however, the dinner bell eventually rings out through the building, and you know that Wooyoung will be back soon. If you’ve made it this long, surely you can wait a few more minutes… 

But, damn, do those minutes sure drag on. You try to picture what must be going on in the cafeteria below you. Is Hongjoong giving some weird speech? Is he talking about you? Fuck, seriously, does Mingi know that you’re still here? You’ve been trying to not think about Mingi for the time being, but the thought of him sitting at a cafeteria table, eyes glued to Hongjoong, gripping onto his every word… 

You shudder. Yesterday’s dinner was creepy enough, you can’t even imagine how weird things will get once Hongjoong isn’t actively trying to not scare you away. Clearly, he’s given up on that notion now, but you still wonder. Will he keep up a bit of a front? Or let the curtain fall entirely, all at once? 

You’re guessing the former. Hongjoong will probably try to lure you in slowly, feeding you somewhat rational ideas before the all-out crazy ones. That’s his vibe. You’re guessing he knows that if he were to just throw people into the deep end, he wouldn’t have much success. 

Another knock comes at your door, but this time you’re ready. Time flies when you’re thinking of Hongjoong, apparently. You get off the bed and take the few steps to the door, squatting down before sitting. You cross your legs as the slot opens up again, and you can spot Wooyoung’s familiar face once more.

“Hi!” He greets you, making himself comfortable on the opposite side of your door. 

You smile, mostly out of the relief. He had come back like he said he would. Not that you really doubted him, but, hey, this isn’t exactly a place where you would imagine many promises are kept. “Hello,” you welcome him back. 

“As promised,” Wooyoung says, turning to look to his left side and reaching to grab something, “I brought dinner.” He holds a tray up in front of him. Again, it’s overflowing with different types of food. He starts sliding it through the slot, and you graciously accept it. 

“Thank you,” you smile at him once the tray is entirely on your side.

He shakes his head again like he had earlier when you thanked him. “Don’t mention it! Can I get you anything else?” He asks, returning your smile. 

You glance down at the tray. There's way too much food for one person to reasonably consume, so you shake your head. Looking back up at him, he’s still smiling. “You missed a good service.”

You pause, your smile faltering. Did something happen? Something bad? Wooyoung quickly notices your confusion. “Did you start reading The Answer? Services probably won’t make much sense until you’ve read it. I’m pretty sure they put one in here for you…?” He asks, trailing off. “If not, I can get you one!” 

You quickly shake your head. “No, I have one… but I haven’t started reading it yet.” You’re honest with Wooyoung. You can’t imagine that he would blame you. 

He nods, but his smile fades. “You really should read it, you might not be chosen otherwise.” 

… More codewords. “Chosen?” You ask, hoping that you’ll actually get an explanation for once. Why can’t these people just use normal language? It may not be as fun and mysterious, but it would sure help you out.

“During your ceremony,” He starts, gazing in at you, “you might not be chosen to stay with us if you disrespect God by ignoring His Answer.” 

Oh. So that might be even more cryptic. Your ceremony? Ceremony for what? What’s supposed to happen at this ceremony? Chosen? Chosen by God? Stay with them? As in, if you aren’t chosen, you get to leave? About a million questions flash through your mind as you process what Wooyoung just told you. Things in this place just keep getting weirder. 

Even though you’re sure you look sufficiently confused, you nod to Wooyoung like you comprehended a word he just said. “Ah, okay,” is all you can think to say, staring down at your food again. 

And, with that, Wooyoung and you lapse into a slightly uncomfortable silence. It’s definitely not a comfortable one, but it isn’t so bad. As he had earlier, he scooches against the opposite door and watches you eat through the slot. 

Once you’ve had your fill, you let him know and hand the tray back to him. He takes it, smiling and bidding you a goodnight. You do the same, before standing and resuming your previous boredom. 

You turn your head toward the desk, glaring at the askew book. Despite what Wooyoung said, you’re not going to read it. Anything you learn about this place will be against your will.

.・。.・゜✭ ⧖ ・.・ ⧖ ✫・゜・。.

After watching the sun set outside of your window, you decide that sleeping would be better than this mind-numbing boredom. You’re starting to need to use the bathroom, but you’re going to hold off on that for literally as long as humanly possible. The thought of having to have Seonghwa or Hongjoong escort you to the bathroom is the last thing you want. 

You change into your pajamas from last night, seeing as you had only packed one pair. Throwing the blankets back, you crawl into bed and pull them over you. 

Despite having all day alone to think, your mind is still too preoccupied for you to really relax. You’re literally being held hostage by a religious cult. Why do these things happen to you? Why did your best friend have to join a cult? Why couldn’t he have just decided he hated his life, changed his name, and moved away to Europe or something? 

How had Mingi even heard of this place? Who recruited him? How did he end up here, looking up to Hongjoong like he saved his life? You want to give Mingi the benefit of the doubt, but seriously. How did he let this happen? Mingi had never been the most serious or sophisticated person, but you still think that he would never have been stupid enough to fall for a cult’s bullshit. He might be a little naive, but not this naive, right? Is Mingi really the type of person to be manipulated so easily? 

You don’t think so. Not your Mingi, at least. The Mingi you knew was always inquisitive in class, always questioning why things were the way that they were. He found deeper meanings in everything, in everyone. You have to believe that it would have been extremely difficult to feed Mingi such obvious lies and propaganda and have him simply believe them. Something had to have happened. But wouldn’t he have told you? Well… maybe not. Considering his disappearance. Still, you think that if Mingi had a traumatic experience, it would’ve come out somehow. But there was nothing when he left, and there’s nothing now. He’s just… different. Inexplicably, Mingi fell into the clutches of some psychopath. 

You can’t take not having the answers. You make a mental note to make sure you have a serious conversation with Mingi as soon as possible, not that you imagine that will be anytime soon. Again, you wonder if Mingi knows that you’re still here. Is he upset? Does he miss you? Is he alone right now, like you are? 

Your heart aches. You can’t truly blame any of this on Mingi. You cringe as you remember your outburst from this morning. Why had you yelled? Why had you blamed him? It’s not even his own fault that he’s here. It’s Hongjoong’s. 

You don’t know how he did it, but he stole Mingi out of your life. Hongjoong convinced him of his lies. He tore your best friend away from you and fundamentally changed him as a person. That rat bastard is lucky you don’t have a weapon. 

You’re sure you could probably take him with your bare hands, he’s pretty scrawny looking. Seonghwa would be the issue, him and his ability to throw you across rooms and whatnot. Wait, why hadn’t you thought of this before? Surely if you attacked one of them, that would count as self defense. They’ve locked you up against your will and also threatened your life. 

But you roll your eyes to yourself. There’s no way you could kill someone. You probably couldn’t even attack someone either. At least not at your current level of desperation. Maybe if you’re physically threatened…

You shake your head, ridding yourself of the thought. You shouldn’t plan on harming anyone, even if they are maniacs. That honestly makes the idea even more dangerous. You doubt Seonghwa would hesitate to end you if you threatened Hongjoong, despite his wishes to keep you alive. The best way to stay safe right now is to wait it out until someone realizes that you’re missing. 

Suddenly, there’s another knock on the door. You quickly sit up, shrinking back in the bed. Who the hell is here to bother you at night?

You’re quickly answered as the slot in the bottom opens, “(Y/n), it’s Yunho. Are you awake?” He whisper-yells into your room. 

Quickly ridding the blankets off of yourself and getting out of bed, you move to sit in front of the door for the third time today. Peeking through the slot, you’re greeted by a big smile. 

“Good!” He exclaims, his voice returning to normal volume. “I just wanted to let you know that we’re all so happy you decided to stay.” He beams through the slot, looking as innocent as ever.

Huh, is that what Hongjoong is telling people? That you decided to stay? Funny. Real funny. “Yunho,” you begin, not able to hold back your response, “does it really look like I want to be here? I’m locked in this room.” You blink at him, waiting for his response.

He just laughs. “Well, you did disrespect Hongjoong’s wishes and try to leave.” He shrugs at you, tilting his head to the side. “But you’ll be out soon! Almost all of us start in one of these locked rooms!” He lets out another giggle with the last statement.

“How reassuring.” Sarcasm drips from your response. 

Yunho doesn’t seem to catch on to it. “Right! Hongjoong says your future with us is bright!” 

Uh-huh. Totally. “Great.” You say in perhaps the plainest voice you can muster. You don’t want to sound interested or encourage Yunho any further. 

“Well, anyways,” he keeps smiling at you despite your response, “Seonghwa is here for you.”

“Wha-” you’ve barely gotten a sound out when the lock on the door starts jingling, and Seonghwa’s legs appear at Yunho’s side. The door quickly opens, smacking you in the process. The doorknob hits you square in the forehead, sending you sprawling onto the floor. 

Seonghwa shoves the door open, despite it hitting your lower half and resisting. He towers over you, the judgement evident in his face. 

“Ouch!” You yell up at him in frustration, bringing a hand up to your forehead despite the pain receding quickly. What a dick ass move. 

He simply keeps staring down at you, watching as you prop yourself back into a seated position. “How pathetic,” he gives you a pitiful smile that quickly changes to one of amusement. “Get up.” 

You’re still too shocked by his sudden appearance to even wonder why he’s here. You’re apparently too slow to respond to his command as well, as he soon reaches down for you. “I said get up.” He wraps a hand around your upper arm, heaving you off of the floor until you’re standing. 

He gives you a once over, smirking at your pajamas. “How cute.” He mutters, his other hand comes up to grab the hemline of your shirt, toying with it for a moment. His fingertips graze the skin of your stomach, their coolness sending a shock down your spine. He stares down at his hand, watching his fingers slide the fabric around. 

Seonghwa’s hand is quickly gone, however, and his face loses all traces of an expression. He not-so-gently pulls you to the door, yanking you behind him. You stumble around Yunho, who has stood up and is now leaning against your door frame. 

“Hold on,” you wriggle in Seonghwa’s grasp, trying to slow his stride down the hallway. “Where are we going?” 

He doesn’t stop despite your efforts. “Do I need to carry you again?” His voice is stern as you continue to dig your heels into the floor. 

“Where are we going?” You ask again, not responding to his question. 

Seonghwa finally stops, turning his head toward you. “Will you walk like a big girl if I tell you?” He fake pouts at you, speaking to you like you’re a child. 

“That’s hard to answer at this point,” you tell him honestly. If he tells you he’s taking you to be fed through a woodchipper, you’ll probably continue to resist. 

Seonghwa rolls his eyes at you. In one motion, he releases your arm and wraps his arm around to your other side as he bends to bunch your knees in his other arm. Before you know it, he’s picked you up and is carrying you down the hallway again. At least this time he didn’t throw you over his shoulder. 

You sigh. “Where are we going?” You ask again, glaring at the side of Seonghwa’s head.

“To Hongjoong.” 

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THE ANSWER: X

Kim Hongjoong doesn’t like the word ‘cult.’ He prefers ‘sect.’ pairing: ateez x fem reader genre: cult au, thriller, angst check warnings on AO3

← previous || next → || masterlist chapter word count: 5,014

You watch Hongjoong’s back as he leaves, processing what just happened. With your jaw slightly ajar and your eyes beginning to burn from a lack of blinking, you finally are able to look away once you lose sight of him outside of the cafeteria. You can still feel the warmth of his hand on your shoulder; like he’s left a claim on you. A repulsive one. 

It feels like your brain has stopped working. Why does it feel like he’s still sitting next to you? Why can you still feel him, his presence, at your side? Why can you still feel his breath on your ear, hear his threat? Hongjoong is all that you can sense, he’s made residence in every one of your senses and dug himself a place in your mind with only seven words. In this moment, it feels like he’s all that’s ever been known and that he is all that will remain to be known.

I’ll kill you if I have to, I’ll kill you if I have to, I’ll kill you if I have to, I’ll kill you if I have to, I’ll kill you if I have to, I’ll kill you if I have to, I’ll kill you if I have to, I’ll kill you if I have to.

His words bounce around in your head like an echo chamber. Was that really what he said? Could you have misheard him? In your defense, he was whispering very quietly. Maybe you were making a big deal out of nothing, and this was all a misunderstanding. Right? 

Your emotions begin to catch up with you as you feel your eyes begin to water. You snap your jaw shut, pushing a deformed smile to the front of your face. Not that you feel like smiling right now, but the situation is so ridiculous that it could almost evoke a laugh from you. What the hell is happening? Blinking in an attempt to rid your eyes of their tears, you rotate your body back towards the rest of the table. 

Your tray of food sits as untouched as the moment you had set it on the table. Gently pushing it forward, you bring your elbows to rest up on the table so that you can set your face in your hands. What are you going to do now? What could you do? Hongjoong literally threatened your life. As much as you wish you had misheard him, you know that you hadn’t. Plain as day, he had told you that he would kill you if he has to. If you had been able to see his face, you know that he must have been smiling. 

What the fuck is wrong with that man? What the fuck is going on here? You chuckle to yourself. How did you even get in this situation? All you had wanted was to reconnect with Mingi. And now you’re apparently being held hostage by a cult. A cult. What the fuck. 

Why is this happening to you? Are you not a good person? Did you do something to deserve this? Were you too selfish? Should you have not looked for Mingi? You suppose that there was probably something to be said about his sudden disappearance. Maybe you should have expected this. Why else would Mingi have dropped off the face of the planet? 

Ahahaha. Isn’t life just so funny sometimes? 

Your internal monologue is interrupted by a new hand on your shoulder. This time, it comes from your right. You pull your hands away from your face, and glance towards Mingi. You try to not look as astounded as you feel, but, judging from his reaction, you must fail.

He immediately frowns, his eyebrows creasing as he takes in your expression. “What’s wrong?” He asks, rubbing his hand on your shoulder a few times. 

You can’t help it. You start laughing. You try to contain it at first, only letting a few quiet chuckles arise. However, it’s unsustainable. Quickly, the laugher starts coming too hard and too fast to hold back. Before you know it, your whole body is shaking with the force of the sound and tears begin to wash over your eyes once more. You let them fall, not caring who sees. “What’s wr-wrong?” You sputter out through your laughter, “What’s wrong?” You repeat yourself, bringing a hand up to wipe your tears away from your cheeks. “This place is fucking insane,” your voice begins to get louder as your laughter finally starts to die down, “that’s what’s fucking wrong. You all are insane!” A new fit of laughter bubbles to the surface, making your grimace. Mingi’s hand pulls away from your back, and more tears make their way down your cheeks.

You can’t care to look around and see who is witnessing your breakdown. That’s what this is, you realize, a breakdown. You just called Mingi insane to his face, practically yelling it at him. You turn your face to him once more, taking him in. Regret pools in your stomach. 

His expression is entirely crestfallen, and he looks like he’s on the verge of tears as well. “Why would you say that?” He asks you, whispering. He’s wringing his hands in front of him, squeezing so hard that you can see whiteness spreading through them. 

For a second, you consider apologizing. You do feel bad for upsetting Mingi, but, fuck, it’s his fault that you’re here! “Because its the truth!” You yell, throwing your hands out in front of you and waving them around the room. “This is a fucking cult! I should’ve known the second San,” your eyes travel across the table to find him staring at you with wide eyes, “told me what that stupid fucking hourglass is!” 

When you finish your exclamation, you finally realize how silent the room is. Your head swings around to observe the rest of the cafeteria. It is mostly empty, but everyone that remains is staring at you head on. You’re hit with the same feeling from last night, when Hongjoong had introduced you. Normally, you would probably begin to feel self-conscious. Now, you couldn’t possibly care less. 

You stand up, trying to turn around and leave. Who cares what Hongjoong said, you’re getting the fuck out of here. If you die trying, then so be it. Before you’re able to take a step, however, a hand reaches out and grabs your wrist. You find the source to be San, who is also now standing and leaning over the table to grab you. You shake your arm, trying to twist yourself free of his grip. Unfortunately for you, San is able to hold on. “(Y/n), this isn’t a cult.” He calmly states to you.

“This is the textbook definition of a cult, San. Let me go, I’m leaving.” You continue to wriggle your arm in his hand. 

For whatever reason, Yunho decides that you want his opinion on the matter. “No, really, it isn’t.” He looks up at you from his spot, still sitting next to San. “‘Cult’ has a certain negative connotation, so we prefer ‘sect.’” Yunho smiles. 

You literally stop shaking your arm. Looking down at Yunho and his innocent smile, you can’t help but wonder just how brainwashed these people must be. Saying your religion is a ‘sect’ is not better than calling it a ‘cult,’ that’s for damn sure. Frozen in your shock, you don’t even notice San’s hand let go of your wrist and it falling back to his side. 

The anger coursing through you doesn’t know where to direct itself. Who are you mad at? Hongjoong? Mingi? San? Yunho? Yourself? The lack of an answer makes the emotion fade ever so slightly.

You take a glance at Mingi. He’s still sitting at your side with his head hanging down toward his lap. You can see that he’s still squeezing his hands, working them with each other. You know that stance. He’s crying. For the second time in two days. Because of you. 

Now that your anger has been nearly confused out of you, you honestly do feel bad for Mingi. With the silence hanging over the table, you can hear him sniffling, hear his uneven breathing. Watching the top of his head, you can see how he shivers every so often as more tears flow out. 

You realize now that San had let go of your hand, as you become aware that you’re moving it to Mingi. You set your hand on the crown of his head, flattening his hair. When he feels your touch, he lets out an audible sob. It echoes through the quiet cafeteria, reverberating across the walls and making the moment feel terribly long. He turns his body toward you in his seat and finally lets go of his hands. 

Mingi looks up at you, his cheeks reddened and shiny with the tears still gently pouring out of his eyes. His hands come up to grasp your hips, his fingers hooking around your belt loops and pulling you to him. You stumble forward, having to grab the table next to you in order to stabilize yourself. Mingi wastes no time once you’re closer. He buries his face into the stomach of your shirt, just above your waistline. His fingers escape your belt loops so that his arms can wrap fully behind you, crushing you to him. 

His sobs only pick up pace. You can feel all of your anger leaving you, being replaced only with regret. You did this to Mingi. You yelled at him, you called him crazy, you accused him and his friends of being a cult (which, for the record, you still believe, but you realize you probably shouldn’t have said that to his face), and you tried to leave early. As you feel the wetness of his tears soaking through your shirt and onto your skin, you bring your other hand to his head.

You pet his head with your hands, trying to comfort him. “Mingi…” you start, not sure what to say. This is so out of character from the man you had known in school. You look over at San and Yunho for guidance, but they’re simply staring right back at you. “Mingi, look at me,” you gently request, placing your hands on either side of his face. 

He pulls his face away from you, but barely. The air of the cafeteria hits the now wet stains on your shirt, cold clinging to your skin. Mingi looks up at you, his chin nearly resting on you once more. He blinks as tears silently trail out of his eyes. “I’m-”

“Please don’t, don’t leave me.” He cuts you off, almost yelling his reply. “Please, (Y/n), please.” He begs, his arms squeezing you tighter to him. “I can’t-” a sob cuts him off. “I can’t lose you. Pl-please.” He stutters his way through the sentence as choked sounds continue to cut him off. 

Again, you don’t know what to say. As much as you regret yelling at him before, you still know that you have to leave. Your life is in danger, you can’t stick around just because Mingi is begging you to. There’s no easy way out of this situation, and Mingi is making it ten times harder for you. You bring your thumbs to his cheeks to brush his tears aside, “I’m sorry, Mingi,” you reach behind you to wrap around his wrists in an attempt to release his grip. “But I have to go home.”

A pained wail leaves Mingi as he only tightens his hold around you. “You can’t go!” He pushes his face back into your shirt, holding you so tightly it’s starting to hurt. “You can’t!” His voice is muffled into your stomach as the wetness spreads on your shirt.

“Mingi, please let go.” You request, your own eyes beginning to prick with tears again. Why is he making this so difficult? “I’ll come back.” You promise, pulling on his arms behind you once more. It’s a promise that you’re making to Mingi, but to yourself as well.

Once you’re out of here, you’ll come back. For Mingi. With the police or not, you will get Mingi. 

Mingi shows no signs of releasing you any time soon. All he does is continue to sob into you. Your eyes are burning, the new tears rewetting your already sore eyes. You drop your arms to your sides, realizing that your plight is useless. Mingi isn’t going to let you go. You look over to San and Yunho, who both are still awkwardly watching this scene unfold. 

When you make eye contact with Yunho, he quickly shifts his gaze off to the wall and brings a hand up to scratch at his neck. Looking at San, you throw one of your hands up in question. He shrugs his shoulders, frowning and bringing his hands up to you as well as if to say ‘what do you want me to do?’

You bring your hand up to your face, holding your index finger under your eye to dry the skin. Mingi has started to calm down it seems, his shaking subsiding and the noises slowly dying down. Taking a deep breath, you place your hands down onto his shoulders. 

You gently push on him, trying to get him to part with you. “Mingi, please.” When Mingi, again, makes no indication that he will be letting go, San walks around to your side of the table. He squats down at Mingi’s side, bringing his face level to Mingi’s.

“Mingi,” he starts, putting a hand on Mingi’s back, “come on, let her go. You knew she was going to have to leave today.”

A muffled reply comes from your stomach, and you look to San to see if he comprehended it. Apparently he hadn’t either, because he’s looking to you as if asking the same. “Mingi, we don’t know what you’re saying.” 

Mingi turns his face towards San, but doesn’t move his head away from your stomach. Instead, his ear is pressed to you, the top of his head nuzzling into you. “I said,” he sniffles, “that that’s not what Hongjoong told me. He said she would stay.” His voice is thick in his throat. 

Okay, this is getting pretty ridiculous now. Of course Hongjoong had told Mingi that. Your poor, fragile, brainwashed Mingi. Sure, why not make you the enemy in this terrible situation? 

“Mingi, don’t you remember me telling you that I was only gonna stay for a night?” You ask, taking your left hand and putting it atop his head once more. 

Mingi turns to look up at you. “He said you would change your mind.”

“But she hasn’t.” San sighs, patting Mingi’s back. “You have to let her go, and she’ll come back eventually, right (Y/n)?” San questions you.

“Right.” You agree, combing through the ends of Mingi’s hair with your fingertips. 

With a whimper, Mingi allows San to pull his arms off of you. He crosses them in front of him, gripping his upper arms in his hands. You take a step back from Mingi, wanting to give him some space. “You promise to come back?” Mingi’s eyes are still shining with fresh tears as he asks you the question.

You stick your right hand out, pinky in the air. “I promise.” Mingi sadly stares at your hand before him. Slowly, he releases his grip on his left arm and brings his hand up to meet yours, interlocking your pinkies. “Want to come help me pack?” You ask him, slowly making your move to start walking away from the table. 

“Actually,” San starts, turning to you, “we have chores to do, so it would probably be best if we didn’t come.” 

“Oh,” you nod, frowning a bit. Now that your emotions have mostly subsided, the thought of being left alone in this place is not a comforting one. Hongjoong has to know that you’ll be trying to make a run for it, there’s no way he’s just going to let you leave. You stare back at San, trying to figure out if he knows what Hongjoong said to you. San gives you the impression that he knows more than he lets on. Was he put up to leaving you alone?

San seems to notice your staring and a smile cracks on his face. “Why are you looking at me like that?” His smile alone is enough to make your suspicions of him leave your mind. You have no reason to believe that San is any part bad. He’s been nothing but kind to you. “A picture would last longer.” He teases, his smile growing bigger. 

You roll your eyes, shaking your head. “Whatever,” you let out a small laugh, your lips curling up as well. To your left, Yunho stands on the opposite side of the table. 

“I’m gonna get going,” he says, looking between the three of you, “(Y/n), it was nice to meet you.” He cracks a smile to you, reaching over to give your shoulder a single pat before grabbing his tray off the table and walking away. 

“We should probably go too…” San looks over at Mingi, who is still sitting dejectedly in front of you. Mingi just nods, his expression still heart-breakingly sad. “(Y/n), it was great to meet you,” San stands back up from Mingi’s side, he opens his arms, gesturing you in with his hands. 

Somewhat reluctantly, you take the few steps to him and let him engulf you in a hug. Normally, you wouldn’t let some random man you’ve known for only 24 hours hug you, but, fuck, if Hongjoong is going to try to kill you later, might as well! Your arms wrap around his waist as he pats you on the back a couple times, before letting you go. 

Stepping away from San, you’re forced to face Mingi again. Mingi looks up at you, sighing. He stands and doesn’t bother to make you walk to him. Instead, he closes the space between you two and quickly wraps you up in his arms. You respond immediately, snaking your arms around him and holding him tightly. As much as you want to get the fuck out, it really does hurt to have to say goodbye to Mingi again, not knowing when the next time you’ll be able to see him is. 

After the hug lasts a bit too long for an outsider’s comfort, San clears his throat. Mingi loosens his grip on you, stepping back so little that he can see your face while still holding onto you. “Remember your promise.” He whispers, locking eyes with you. You nod your head, not able to find your words. He gives you a sad smile before leaning in ever so slightly to press a kiss to your forehead. 

This time, you’re the one that doesn’t want to let go. Letting go of Mingi means facing the reality of the situation. You have to try and escape with your life, which is not going to be easy. Hongjoong or one of his watch dogs could be anywhere, lying in wait for you to make one wrong move. 

Hongjoong is smart. He must know that you’re going to try and run, threatened or not. He can’t expect you to just sit back and accept the situation in front of you. He must want you to try and escape. There’s no other possible explanation. If he didn’t want that, he would’ve just had someone lock you in a room a long time ago. 

Mingi steps back from you, making your attention return to the current moment. Your arms fall from him to your sides, and you’re left standing before Mingi and San once more.

A thought suddenly pops into your mind, “San, could I get my phone back?” You ask quickly, reaching a hand out to him.

San’s eyes go wide. “Actually, Hongjoong has it.” He shrugs, not really sure how he can help you. Of course. Of course Hongjoong has your phone. Guess it isn’t that important right now. The choice between your phone or your life really isn’t a difficult one. “See you around, (Y/n)!” San pats your shoulder again as he moves past you toward the door.

Mingi lingers for a second longer. “Goodbye.” He doesn’t touch you.

You turn to watch them leave the cafeteria, and you’re finally left alone.

.・。.・゜✭ ⧖ ・.・ ⧖ ✫・゜・。.

Once Mingi and San leave, you remain in the cafeteria for only a few more minutes, trying to think of a game plan. 

You decide that you need to go up and collect your things. The keys to your car are in your bag, which you will clearly need in order to leave. There’s no way you can run, the nearest populated area is miles away. You need your car, meaning you need your bag. 

Once you realize this, you quickly start to make your way out of the cafeteria and back to the stairs. You’re trying to be quiet about it, but it seems that you don’t exactly need to be. Every hallway you turn down, the lobby, the stairs, and even the first floor are completely empty.

You don’t see signs of life coming from anywhere. You continue to make your way up the stairs and back to ‘your’ room. Ugh, you do not want to claim any part of this place as ‘yours.’ It feels utterly wrong. 

On your way, you don’t run into a single other person. You can’t decide if it’s a blessing or if it’s unnerving. On one hand, there are no witnesses to your escape attempt. On the other, that might be just what Hongjoong wants you to think. 

When you reach the room, you half expect to open the door and find someone waiting for you inside. However, no such person awaits. The room is empty, just how you left it that morning. Your bag is still on the floor, the bed still unmade, the curtains still open. You take a peek out the window, trying to see if anyone is outside. Looking out into the open field, you can’t see a single person. Where the hell did everyone go? 

Not wanting to let the thought distract you, you drop to your knees to start rummaging through your bag. You dig through your clothes and pajamas, searching for the lanyard that holds your car keys. Ahaha. That can't be right. On first pass, you can’t find the lanyard at all. 

Frantically, you continue to tear through your bag. When the keys still are nowhere to be found, you tip it upside down, dumping the contents onto the floor. You dig through the pile, shaking everything to make sure that the keys aren’t stuck inside an article of clothing. They aren’t. They simply are not in your bag.

You think back to yesterday morning when you arrived… You left the keys in the car. You hadn’t grabbed anything but your phone when you got out of the vehicle. Groaning in frustration, you don’t even bother to pack your things back into your bag. All the bag can do at this point is hinder you. 

You stand, rushing out of the room and down the hallway. The hallway is still completely empty, not a sound resonating through the floor besides your feet on the ground. You try not to run, not wanting to make too much noise, but your panic is starting to mount. You speed down the stairs and the floors until you make it to the front door of the building. 

Plain as can be, the doors stand open, inviting you out. You slow down when you reach the doors, scanning the field once more to see if there is anyone waiting to catch you. When you find no one, you step over the threshold, moving yourself into the light of the outdoors.

The weather is nice today. Fall is starting to take hold, but the air is still warm in longing of summer. You stand just outside of the doors, shielding your eyes from the sun that is now high in the sky. For a second, you worry that lunch might be soon, and you’ll be kept another few hours.

Unfortunately, a new worry immediately takes over your thoughts. As you look toward the line of cars that you parked next to, your heart falls into your stomach. 

Your car is completely gone. 

Great. Just great. Absolutely wonderful. What the fuck are you supposed to do now? You genuinely have no idea. Who was the last person that saw your car? San? Yunho? Had it been parked there this morning when you came out of the chapel? You can’t remember. 

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, FUCK. 

Truly panicking now, you decide that you have to find either San or Yunho. One of them must know what happened to your car, right? If they can’t tell you where your car is, then you’ll reason with San. San has to let you leave, right? He’s so nice, he would help you, right? You have a feeling that San would know just as much as you do when it comes to your car, but you can’t let that stop you now. 

As you make your move to head back inside, you bump straight into the first person that you’ve seen since San and Mingi left. Their hands grab your arms, locking you in place in front of them.

Staring at his chest, you realize that you’ve only seen two people dressed like this, and this dude is too tall to be Hongjoong.

Your eyes roll up to meet his, and Seonghwa is smiling at you. “Going somewhere?” His grip on you tightens. 

“Um,” you try to think of a cover for yourself, “I was just getting some air?” Unfortunately, you make it sound like a question. 

Seonghwa’s smile gets bigger. “Uh-huh.” He nods, “I’m sure.” 

Abandoning the hope of hiding your escape attempt, you start wriggling in his grasp. His hands are too tight on you to even allow you to lift your arms. He chuckles at your attempt to wiggle away, grabbing you tighter and quickly spinning you around, tossing you into the lobby of the building. 

You land hard on the floor, not having the time to catch yourself. The landing itself doesn’t hurt too much, but the shock of it is enough to confuse you from your surroundings. You watch Seonghwa turn to shut the front doors, blocking the light of the sun. If you weren’t so disorientated from the sudden turn of events, you would try to get up. 

Seonghwa turns to your spot on the ground once the doors are closed. He stands over you as you prop yourself up on an elbow, trying to at least attempt to stand. Shaking his head, he continues smiling at you as he puts his foot onto your stomach. Fortunately, he doesn’t put too much weight into it, but it’s enough to keep you down. “Did you really think we would just let you leave?” He laughs without any humor. 

“Not really,” you wheeze in reply, Seonghwa’s foot making it rather difficult to take full breaths. He sneers at you, taking his foot off of you and leaning to grab one of your wrists. In one quick movement, he yanks you to your feet and wraps an arm around your waist. Before you know it, he throws you over his shoulder and starts carrying you up the stairs.

You have two options now. You can either accept your fate and simply let him carry you up the stairs to perhaps your death, or you can go kicking and screaming. You chose the latter. 

You start wiggling in Seonghwa’s grasp again. You kick your legs, trying to loosen the grip he has on them. He only tightens his hold, and you start screaming. Top of your lungs, bloody-murder screaming. You scream for help, scream for someone to save you, scream just to make noise. 

In between each, you can hear Seonghwa giggling. “Hongjoong is going to have so much fun with you, (Y/n).” He grits out, his grasp on you staying true as you continue up the stairs. 

After what feels like forever, he stops. You stop your wriggling and screaming as well, trying to figure out where you are. From your vantage point, you pull your neck up, looking across the hall. He’s in front of ‘your’ room. He opens the door and steps inside.

Easily, he grabs you from over his shoulder and tosses you onto the bed. As soon as you land, you’re trying to get up, trying to find a way to get past him standing in the doorway. He stops you, however, with his gaze. The man looks genuinely homicidal. He’s staring at you with pure hatred, his suit wrinkled and his medals out of place. 

He shuts the door and walks to the foot of your bed, cowering you further into it. “If I had permission, I’d kill you right now. The worst disrespect you could bring Hongjoong is disobeying his direct orders, but he wants you alive.” He leans down, forcing you to lay back further. “Lucky for me, he’s not above me beating women, especially disobedient ones. So,” he brings his face within inches of yours, captivating your gaze with his, “do we have an understanding, (Y/n)?”

Not really. But you nod anyways, just wanting him to get out of your space. He smiles, bringing a hand up to stroke the back of your head. “Good girl.” You know he doesn’t mean it, but the sudden praise sends a shock down your spine. “Now, stay.”

He straightens himself back up, removing his hand from your head and walking back toward the door. Without looking back, he opens it and walks out, closing it after. You can hear some sort of locking mechanism from the outside, and his steps rescinding down the hallway.

You’re alone again.

← previous || next → || masterlist

THE ANSWER: IX

Kim Hongjoong doesn’t like the word ‘cult.’ He prefers ‘sect.’ pairing: ateez x fem reader genre: cult au, thriller, angst check warnings on AO3

← previous || next → || masterlist chapter word count: 4,085

You wake to the sound of the bell.

Your eyes pop open, and it takes you a second to remember where you are. The previous day quickly comes back to you. Mingi, the farm, San, Hongjoong, the Answer… You groan, sitting up in the bed and observing the room around you. It’s exactly as you remember it, though now it has a soft glow from the early morning sunlight streaming in through the window. Pulling the covers off of yourself and getting out of the bed, you try and figure out what time it is. There isn’t a clock in the room, but, judging from what was told to you about breakfast being at seven, it must be around six. 

You suppose that makes sense. You bend to rummage through your bag you left next to the bed, grabbing the outfit that you had packed for the day. Wanting to quickly get a start to your day so that you can have the most time with Mingi, you change and go through your morning routine quickly. When you head to the bathroom to brush your teeth, you surprisingly don’t run into anyone. Isn’t everyone else getting ready?

Once you’re finished, you start to hear more sounds of the living. Poking your head out, you notice that there are now plenty of people heading off of the floor. Since you’re ready to go, you fall into line with the crowd, prepared to follow them to the cafeteria.

Not that you’re one to be too concerned about what other people think of you, but you notice that you clearly stick out like a sore thumb in this group of people. Everyone is dressed similarly to yesterday, their casual work clothes looking pristine at the start of a new day. While you’re just wearing your everyday clothes, nothing too crazy, you still are obviously an outsider.

However, it seems that no one pays you any mind. Most of them are involved in their own little conversations, enjoying each other’s company. You’re left alone with your thoughts, that is, until you make it to the men’s floor. Once your group conjoins with the numerous men that are making their way down the stairs, you catch sight of a familiar face. If you could call someone you’ve said maybe five words to ‘familiar.’ 

Fortunately for you, he spots you as well, stopping and waiting for you to fall in line next to him. Yunho is just as giant as last night, which is even more apparent as he’s surrounded by crowds of normal sized people. He smiles down at you, asking how you’re doing this morning as the two of you continue to follow the crowd.

“I’m great,” is your automatic response. You give him a smile back as you wonder if you really are ‘great.’ Probably more like ‘okay.’ Honestly, you’re kind of ready to get out of there.

As you two continue, you try to look around for Mingi.  Yunho must take notice of your glances. “Mingi helps out with service in the morning, so he’s not gonna be around.”

Service? What service? You think back to yesterday… had anyone mentioned something about a service? At dinner, San did mention that there are activities before breakfast… which must be what Yunho is talking about. By now, you are to the ground floor and take notice of the fact that people are leaving out the front door.

Your eyebrows scrunch in confusion, and you look up to Yunho for clarification as you step over the threshold. “We go to the chapel for service.” He explains, giving you a big smile while sticking his left hand out to point at the one large building you hadn’t toured yesterday.

Yunho’s explanation does not do much to ease your confusion. It really only adds to the growing cloud of dread hanging over your head. Uh-huh. The chapel. Right, well, this is definitely getting much weirder now. 

You follow the crowd across the opening and approach the building. Honestly, it doesn’t look too different from anything else around. From the front, it almost looks like a small home, besides the fact that it has double-doors. It has plain white siding and two windows, and it’s raised on a small foundation, with a porch attached in the front. You notice that there are a couple steps leading up to meet the porch that look very weathered. As you get closer, you find that, sure enough, Mingi is standing on the porch, holding the left door open with his body. 

Stepping up the two steps to the porch, Mingi gives you a big smile. “(Y/n)! Yunho! Good morning! Welcome.” He waves a hand to you guys before moving his attention to those behind you. As you step inside the chapel, you are honestly astonished by what you can see.

Like any other church, there’s quite a few rows of pews on either side of the room. The floor goes back probably 30 feet from the door, and there’s probably about 15 pews on each side. The ceilings are rather high, maybe 12 feet, with an exposed roof. At the back of the chapel, the floor raises a couple feet in a half-circle fashion and becomes what you can assume is a stage. The stage and the stairs leading up to it are covered in a red velvet carpet.

Two things are what really catch your attention, however. One, the giant hourglass symbol hanging on the back wall, behind the stage. It must be over ten feet tall, made out of a shining silver material. This one is more intricate than the smaller examples you’ve seen; the top and bottom parallel lines are much thicker than the crossed inner lines. It’s giant and imposing, creating an image in your mind that you’re unlikely to ever forget.

The second item is, perhaps, more disturbing. On the stage, only a few feet in front of the hourglass, is a chair. Chair… is not the right word. Throne is more accurate. It’s high-backed, standing quite tall. The frame is silver, and looks to be ornate, but you can’t exactly make out the details from the entrance of the chapel. The cushioning is black, and looks, quite honestly, pretty comfortable. 

As you take in the scene, you genuinely cannot stop your jaw from dropping. Things had gone from bad to terrible in a matter of minutes. What the fuck is going on here? 

Yunho gently puts a hand on your back, urging you forward. You hadn’t realized it, but you were most definitely holding up the crowd of people behind you. Amazed, all you can really do is follow his guiding hand as you two walk further inside. There’s already a considerable amount of people inside, and so you two are the final additions to one of the rows. Your seat is right on the edge, next to the aisle. You’re on the left side, probably ten or so feet from the stage. 

From your new position, you try to take in more of the chapel. From a closer vantage point, you can tell that the throne definitely has some sort of carvings in the frame, but still can’t exactly pinpoint what they ar- “Are you okay?”

To your left, Yunho looks at you with concern. It takes you a second to process what he means. Of course you’re not okay, does he not see what’s going on right now? That you’re in a small church on a farm in the middle of nowhere surrounded by symbols you’ve never seen and stories you’ve never heard? Why in the absolute fuck would you be okay? 

You stare up at him, the utter amazement still obvious on your face. Seriously, what kind of question was that? Then you remember what’s happening right now. Everyone in this building is used to this. They all would think you’re the weird one right now. You try to fix your face and answer Yunho, but you find it quite difficult. At least you manage to get your jaw to cooperate, finally closing it after being slack-jawed for who knows how long. You simply nod to him, swallowing hard and hoping he doesn’t care to investigate further. 

Looking away from him and trying to find something to distract yourself with, your eyes fall to the pew in front of you. Or, rather, the shelf on the back of it. Sticking out, every foot or so, is the top of a black book. You silently pray to yourself that it’s just a normal Bible, reaching your hand out to grab the top of one. When you see the front, unfortunately, you can feel the blood draining from your face.

Gripping it in two hands, you examine the front. In shining, silver-embossed letters, it says: 

THE ANSWER

Underneath the title, the symbol of the hourglass is prominently displayed, also embossed in silver. In normal circumstances, you might think it looks like an interesting novel. Under these, however, it only serves to exponentially increase your dread. You feel your pulse speed up, gripping the book entirely too tight between your hands. 

You raise your head up slowly, attempting to not gain any attention. You look around, desperately trying to think of some way to get out of this. Literally what is stopping you from just getting up and leaving? There are still people pouring in the doors, surely no one would notice that you’ve left, right? 

Just as you’re about to stand up, you feel a hand on top of yours. You whip your head back forward, looking down to your lap where the book is being squeezed by your hands. For a moment, you wonder whose hand could possibly be on top of yours. The world feels like its getting smaller and bigger at the same time, and your vision starts to blur around the edges. What’s happening?

You follow the hand to its owner, looking to your left once again to see Yunho. He looks more concerned than last time, his eyes big with a slight pout to his lips. He blinks at you, like he’s expecting an answer. Had he said something?

“Sorry, what?” You hear yourself say, but it sounds far away.

Yunho continues to stare at you, looking a little dumbfounded. “I said, ‘are you alright,’ but that answers my question for me.” 

He pulls his hand off yours, and his voice kind of snaps you back into reality. Like you had been stretching a rubber band in your mind, you suddenly fly back into the present. You look to your hands, and notice that you’re still holding the book, though, it’s more like you’re choking the book. It’s squeezed between your hands so tightly that your forearms are shaking, and your fingers have gone white. Quickly, you release the book. It falls onto your lap and then bounces onto the floor between your feet. 

Looking back at Yunho, he’s now staring at the book on the ground. He quickly bends to pick it up, brushing it off once it’s in his hands. You find yourself whispering an apology to him. You have no idea what had just come over you, but it’s freaking you out.

He just smiles at you, shaking his head and pushing the book back into the little shelf in front of you. He brings a hand up to pat you on the back a couple times, in what must be an attempt to calm you down. Can he tell that you’re totally freaking out? Probably. He seems like that kind of person. 

Behind you, you hear the door’s close. The room is submerged into darkness, with only the two windows in the front letting any light in. As you turn to look at the doors, you notice that every single person in the room has lowered their head. 

Time feels like it moves in slow motion. You can’t stop yourself from looking, despite figuring out that you’re not supposed to. Looking over your shoulder, you make eye contact with Hongjoong. He’s walking down the aisle of the chapel, each of his footsteps ringing impossibly loud in your head. You can’t move, his gaze pinning you to your spot. You want to look away, but he’s hypnotizing. He smiles at you, but there’s absolutely no warmth in his eyes. As he passes you, he puts a hand on your shoulder. It feels repulsive. 

Before you can jerk away from him, he’s already gone. You can still feel his touch, the lingering feeling of his palm leaving a burning sensation on your skin. Once he’s past you, time feels like it returns to normal. You’re suddenly aware of how shallowly you had been breathing, and you suck in a deep breath to try and comfort yourself. 

Hongjoong continues on, stepping up onto the stage. He quickly turns, positioning himself in front of the chair, before letting himself flop into it. He rests his right elbow on the armrest, bringing his hand up to cup his face. He surveys the room, making eye contact with you once more. “Good morning.”

“Good morning.” The crowd answers him, their heads still hanging low in front of him. He smirks at you, “Rise.” 

The heads obey his command. With everyone sitting up again, he takes his eyes off of you, looking around once more. You look around as well, trying to discern if this is actually happening or not. Every person you lay eyes on is staring up at Hongjoong, with adoration plain on their faces. For a brief second, you think you should try and find Mingi, before thinking better of it. You know that he’ll be emulating everyone else, and that might just be the last of what you can take.

Begrudgingly, you turn back toward the front. You don’t want to look at Hongjoong, but he commands attention from his spot on the stage. Today, he’s wearing a much different outfit. Similar to the one that Seonghwa had worn yesterday, he’s dressed almost like a military official in formal uniform. He’s decorated in medals, pins, and brooches, and his jacket alone looks like it must weigh ten pounds. He looks simultaneously bored yet amused, spread out in his chair.

The air in the room is stifling. Everyone waits for Hongjoong, clinging onto his every breath. He looks back to you, giving you a half-smile, raising his eyebrows as if to ask what you think. With a nauseating jolt in your stomach, you realize that he enjoys this. You try to mask your expression, but quickly realize that its no use. You’re scared. And he knows it already. 

After what feels like an eternity, he finally starts speaking. “Everyone, it is a good day.” He breaks his stare and glances around once more. “It’s a good day for so many reasons. First of all, God has given us peace on our farm, which we are always grateful for. Second of all,” he points to you with his free hand, “we have a newcomer. What a special day for her. You never forget your first service!” 

He pauses for a moment before starting again, his tone more serious. “Third, I received a message last night. Our Minho has been claimed, so I would like to congratulate him on that. His ceremony will take place tomorrow.”

There’s quite a few gasps in the room. A few people clap, and one man immediately bursts into tears. You figure that he must be Minho, judging from the reactions of the people around him. He’s staring at Hongjoong like he just told him he won the lottery, his eyes glistening with tears of joy. While you’re left to wonder what the hell being claimed means, everyone’s attention returns to Hongjoong when he clears his throat.

“Of course, there are other reasons this is a wonderful day, but there is not enough time in the world to thank God for every small miracle.” He waves a hand, dismissing the notion. “Anyhow, today, I want you all to hold the Answer close, and know that I am always a part of you. Time is a circle, and we are all one. If anything troubles you, come to me. I never want any of you to suffer without knowledge, without comfort. I will guide you, always.”

You wonder if this can possibly be the end of it. It seems like you’ve been in this chapel for twenty minutes, but also twenty years. Then again, he hasn’t talked enough for this to be like any religious service you’ve ever been to.

But he stands, and with him, so does everyone else (well, everyone except you, but you stand after a couple seconds). He strolls off the stage and down the aisle, throwing the doors open once he reaches them. Light pours into the chapel once more, and those open doors become the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen. Freedom. 

Once he’s out the door, people start following, trickling out of their pews and out the doors. You step out of your pew, following the other people back outside. The brightness of the early morning sun takes your eyes a few seconds to adjust to, the light suddenly blinding. You bring a hand up to shield your eyes, before quickly recognizing Mingi, standing off to the side of the crowd. 

When he sees you, he waves, calling out your name and ushering you toward him. Once you reach his side, he turns and continues on with the crowd, standing at your side. He asks how you are this morning, and you have no idea how to respond.

You are absolutely not okay. You are terrified, confused, and honestly pretty disturbed. For a second, you’re angry. The only reason you came to this farm in the first place was because of Mingi. He is the reason that you are in this situation right now. Why the hell would he have put this on you? Does he genuinely believe this crap? 

But you quickly bring yourself back to reality. You came here on your own free will. You had thought about it for a while before agreeing. Hell, you were the one that reached out to Mingi. If there was anyone to blame, it was yourself. 

As you two walk back into the main building and toward the cafeteria, you realize that Mingi is still waiting for his answer. “I’m alright,” you sigh.

“Did you sleep alright? You look a bit tired.”

“Yeah, I slept fine.” 

You feel a little bad for your curt answers, but you’re much more preoccupied with figuring out how to get out of here. When you walked by, you noticed that your car was still in front of the building, meaning you should be able to simply… leave. How you’re going to do it unnoticed is the problem.

You can’t just leave without saying goodbye to Mingi, but you also have to get away before any of the creepy people here figure out what you’re doing. You have a feeling that Hongjoong and Seonghwa wouldn’t take too lightly to finding out that you’re going. 

But damn, that might be a bit difficult. Those two seem to be everywhere and nowhere at the same time. As you and Mingi enter the cafeteria and enter the line, you notice that the aforementioned men are already sitting together and eating at one of the tables. 

Going through the line, you just take whatever. You don’t plan on eating anyway. As you and Mingi try to find a table, he spots San and Yunho at their own table and moves to join them. How Yunho had gotten to the cafeteria before you, you have no idea, but you follow Mingi to their table. You take a seat to Mingi’s left, leaving the seat beside you empty. 

As the three boys launch into some discussion about the fields, you think about leaving again. You shouldn’t have to make up an excuse, because you had planned on leaving today anyways. That makes things a little bit less suspicious, right? 

But, oh God, confrontation. What if someone asks why you’re already leaving? What if Mingi asks you to stay? What if someone else asks you to stay? What if you leave and then no one believes you about what happened?

You have to go to the police, right? Like, this is weird enough to warrant an investigation, right? Or would they just be useless because you technically haven’t seen anything criminal go down? That honestly seems like the most likely answer. But you know. You have this terrible gut feeling that something is going on here, something completely wrong. 

And then an entirely new concern rises to the forefront of your mind. How can you leave Mingi here, alone? What if this place is dangerous, like you think, and something happens to him? What if he gets hurt and you’re not there? How could you leave him behind? The answer is that you can’t. You can’t leave him.

But you also know that he won’t leave. And how could you ever make him make that decision? You or his adopted family? He clearly loves the people here, and loves his life here.It would be cruel to ask him. It would hurt you to make him upset by even suggesting that this place might not be good for him. Also, do you really want to know which he would pick? 

 You have to leave him in order to save him. As much as it breaks your heart, its true. He won’t ever leave on his own volition, and you feel like something terrible would happen to him if he tried.

You resolve to leave during lunch. That way, hopefully no one would follow you. Hopefully they would just let you leave. You don’t want to picture Mingi’s reaction, his face when you say that you’re leaving. 

You’re startled out of your thoughts by a hand on your shoulder. It lands on your left shoulder, and your immediate instinct is to jump away from the touch. It’s hot. You quickly whip your head to your left only to see none other than Hongjoong himself taking the once empty seat next to you. 

He keeps his hand on your shoulder, even gripping it a little. He clearly can tell you’re uncomfortable, and the smile on his face is nearly masochistic. “(Y/n),” he speaks, “aren’t you sad to be leaving today?” 

Your eyes widen. Why would he bring that u- “You’ve hardly gotten to spend any time with Mingi.” He cuts off your thoughts, pouting his bottom lip out in a mock-sad gesture. It makes you want to hit him. 

You spit out the first answer that comes to mind. “Well, I have a job… and stuff.”

Hongjoong nods, feigning understanding. “I’m sure Mingi will miss you, though. You should come back soon.” He looks over your shoulder to Mingi, and you glance back at him too. You wish you hadn’t when you see the expression on his face. He looks devastated at the thought. 

You turn back to face Hongjoong and merely nod a bit. Yeah, you’ll be back soon alright. With the police. 

Just when you think things couldn’t get weirder, Hongjoong leans his body toward yours. He brings his face within inches of yours, staring into your eyes. From this close, you can really admire his features- not that you would want to, of course. Objectively, though, he’s very handsome. Instinctively, your eyes flit to his lips; his full, pretty, pink lips. 

Immediately, you really wish they hadn’t. He clearly notices your glance, a playful smile growing on his face. You try to lean back to make some distance between the two of you, but you merely hit Mingi’s shoulder and are blocked. Hongjoong leans back in, once again leaving a few inches between your faces.

“(Y/n),” he whispers, dragging his eyes around your face. “You could be very happy here.” He moves his head to the side of yours, positioning his lips close enough to your ear to brush against it when he speaks next. 

Breathily, and quieter than ever, so quiet that you can barely hear him, he whispers, “I’ll kill you if I have to,” he takes a breath in, “but that wouldn’t be as much fun.”

With that, he pulls away, standing up and squeezing your shoulder once more before leaving.

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THE ANSWER: VIII

Kim Hongjoong doesn’t like the word ‘cult.’ He prefers ‘sect.’ pairing: ateez x fem reader genre: cult au, thriller, angst check warnings on AO3

← previous || next → || masterlist chapter word count: 4,286

After Mingi had told you that it was dinner time, you realized how hungry you’ve gotten. Afterall, really all you had had all day was that coffee from this morning. How you had totally forgotten about lunch, you have no idea.

On the walk back down the stairs, your little group becomes significantly larger. People are pouring out of their rooms and heading in the same direction, toward the cafeteria. To your surprise, a small child sneaks his way around your legs, running ahead of you. Huh, there really are kids here.

With Mingi still next to you, you ask him if the meals are on schedules. “Yeah, but it depends on the day,” he starts, “Everyday, we have scheduled breakfast at seven, though there are mandatory activities before breakfast. Lunch is kind of a fend for yourself thing, there are always snacks out in the cafeteria, but on Sunday we always have a scheduled lunch at noon. Dinner bell always rings at five, and we should be eating by five-thirty.”

“Ah, okay.” You respond, nodding your head as you listen along. You guess it makes sense, with so many people to feed it would be much more efficient to eat all at once at the same time. 

Following the crowd, you make it back to the cafeteria in just a few minutes. Some of the tables are already filling up, and you try to get an idea of how many people are around. It looks to be about forty adults, and maybe… five kids? The operation honestly seems a bit bigger than you had originally thought. 

Mingi and San head to the back of a line that’s starting to form. San takes a second to explain that meals are typically served lunch-room style. He also tells you that there are always two hot meal options, but also cold, pre-prepared foods available. Finally, he adds that you can take as much as you want. You three wait in line together, and Mingi pulls you in front of him so that you can be between him and San. You give him a smile as thanks, appreciating the fact that he still remembers how uncomfortable you can get when you’re too close to strangers. Mingi used to do the same thing all the time in the university cafeteria, putting you in front of him so that you could have all the time and space you needed. 

You move through the line, watching others before copying their behavior. The first thing that comes up on the line is… creamed corn. Okay, makes sense, this is a corn farm afterall. The next few things are other miscellaneous side dishes, and you just grab whatever looks appetizing. The main courses today are… “What is that?” you ask San, leaning a bit closer to the trays of food.

“Looks like paninis!” He grabs the tongs sitting in front of the tray and grabs one, putting it on his plate. “Meat and cheese, probably.” He shrugs at you, moving along. 

From what you can tell, the other option seems to be a soup of some kind and, honestly, that does not seem filling enough. You grab one of the paninis and continue down with San. Mingi, however, moves on without a panini, “I love our chicken noodle soup, but I feel bad for the chickens,” he leaves off, leaning in closer to you to whisper the next part, “this is why we don’t name them.” He sticks his lower lip out for a moment, but he quickly starts smiling once more once he reaches the soup ladle. 

You three continue to the end of the line, finally picking a drink to go along with your meal. All three of you decide on a simple water. Honestly, after that day of touring, you were pretty tired out. You probably should have been drinking water all day, but it hadn’t even occurred to you. 

San leads you to an empty table, plopping himself down on one side of the bench. You take the spot across from San, and Mingi quickly slides in next to you. You’re about to grab your panini when you realize that neither San nor Mingi have touched their food yet. They’re just sitting quietly with their hands in their laps, looking around aimlessly. Confused, you take a look about the room. Similarly, everyone else that’s seated is also waiting. 

“Uh… what are we waiting for?” You whisper to Mingi, looking up at him in question. 

He takes another look around the room before responding. “Hongjoong says a few words before we eat.”

“Oh,” is all you can muster in reply. That’s kind of weird. And by kind of weird you mean pretty weird. Why can’t he ‘say a few words’ while you’re eating? You stare at your panini and realize just how hungry you’ve gotten. Man, it smells good in this cafeteria. Where is Hongjoong?

You look around the room again, and notice that no one remains in the line anymore. Presumably the entire group of people is seated in the cafeteria, waiting for their leader. Even the few children you can see are waiting, sitting patiently and quietly next to their adults. 

Movement catches the corner of your eye and, thankfully, there is Hongjoong, walking through the main door of the cafeteria. He smiles at everyone, observing the room as he makes his way toward the front. Once there, he turns to face the crowd.

“Good evening!” He says, folding his hands in front of him.

A resounding “Good evening” rings about the room, everyone responding to his greeting in unison. You quickly look to Mingi, attempting to give him the most confused face you can muster, but he’s locked on to Hongjoong. In fact, everyone in the room is. You try to survey the people in the cafeteria as sneakily as possible, but you figure the fact that you are, quite literally, the only person moving even a muscle probably gives you away. When you realize this, you quickly snap your head back to the front, to Hongjoong. 

To your shock, he’s already staring directly at you. “As many of you know, we have a guest today.” He brings a hand up to gesture to you over at your table, and the eyeline of every person in the room follows it to you. Not knowing what you should do, you awkwardly give a small wave, trying to conceal how utterly uncomfortable this moment is. Literally every single person in the room has their eyes on you, and you can feel the weight of each individual stare. Why is everyone acting so damn weird all of a sudden? “So I expect everyone to be on their best behavior.” His tone is quite serious. You look back up at Hongjoong, and he immediately establishes eye contact with you. Why does it feel like he’s speaking to you, and not everyone else?

“With that, I have a few more announcements. First off, harvest season is almost upon us, so I hope everyone is prepared for harvest rotations. Again, everyone must participate! This is an all hands on deck situation!” He starts, finally looking away from you and talking to the group once more. He sounds much more upbeat now. “Second, I want to remind you all that the great God above dearly loves each and every one of you! Every second is a blessing, and we have Him to thank.”

Um. Okay? You can’t even try to hide the confusion that crosses your face. Where the hell did that come from? With furrowed brows, you continue to stare up at Hongjoong. To your dismay, he whips his head back towards you and reestablishes eye contact. You immediately try to remove any semblance of emotion from your face, but it doesn’t seem to work. If you didn’t know any better, you would think that, for a moment, he smirks at your reaction. For a split second, you could swear he looks malicious. The moment quickly passes, however, and his expression is replaced with a big smile. “Eat up, everyone!”

With that, everyone turns to their food and starts eating. The room quickly fills with the sounds of people socializing, the din becoming gradually louder. You face forward again, looking at your food. After that disturbing display, you’ve almost lost your appetite… wait, nope, there it is. You pick up your panini and dig in, and, by God, it’s a good panini. So good, in fact, that you hardly notice the new people that have come to stand at your side. 

San hurriedly gathering all his things and standing up is what gets your attention. When you try to look and see where he’s going, you’re met with two familiar faces. Hongjoong and Seonghwa. You hardly notice San slipping onto your side of the bench next to Mingi, entranced watching Hongjoong and Seonghwa sit across from you. Hongjoong takes San’s previous spot, in front of you, and Seonghwa sits to his left, in front of Mingi.

Neither of them have food with them. You’re suddenly uncomfortably self-aware of how fast you were gobbling down that panini, and set what remains back onto your tray, trying to not look at the newcomers.

“Did these two give you a good tour?” You look up as he asks, and his face is still smeared with that giant smile. “How do you like it here?”

You think for a second on your answer. What does he want to hear? On one hand, you don’t want to offend him. On the other, you don’t want him to make up some notion that you’ll be staying even a second longer than you had originally planned. Honestly, at this rate, you might leave even a bit earlier. “They did! It seems like… a nice place to visit.”

As soon as you say it, you regret it. God, that definitely sounds like you want to leave. Trying to save your answer, you give Hongjoong your best fake smile. He simply continues smiling at you, bringing his arms up to rest on the table. You glance at Seonghwa, trying to gauge his reaction as well. He just stares at you blankly. 

Mingi saves you. “Well, she sure likes the food!” He laughs, gesturing to your near empty plate. Everyone bursts into tension filled laughter (well, everyone except Seonghwa), and you are extremely thankful for the diversion.

After the laughter dies down and your table finds itself back in its awkward silence, Hongjoong claps his hands together. “Well, again, you are welcome to stay for as long as you want.” He gives you a quick smile, moving to stand up.

You expect Seonghwa to stand with him, but he remains seated as Hongjoong waits for him. “I don’t think she wants to stay.” He’s staring directly at you, tilting his head as if he’s curious. 

Your eyes go wide and a protest starts rising to your lips. You stop yourself, however, stunned to silence under his glare. “Don’t you want to be saved?” He asks, leaning forward in his seat toward you. He blinks plainly at you, awaiting an answer.

Right as you’re about to respond (with a very confused ‘what?’), Hongjoong grabs Seonghwa by the shoulder and pulls him back, laughing a bit through his words, “Let’s not get into that right now. (Y/n), excuse us.” Even though he’s laughing, you can see his grip on Seonghwa’s shoulder getting tighter. Despite this, Seonghwa stays in place, his glare pinning you to your spot. You can’t look away from him, either. 

San and Mingi remain silent, and, though you can’t see them, you imagine that they both are as uncomfortable as you are. Hongjoong bends at his waist, pulling Seonghwa’s body back further at the same time. He brings his lips to Seonghwa’s ear, whispering something that you can’t make out. Immediately, Seonghwa’s expression breaks, and now he is the one looking shocked. He turns to Hongjoong, eyes wide. “Get up.” Hongjoong says, straightening back up and releasing his grip on Seonghwa’s shoulder. He turns and starts walking away, and Seonghwa scrambles up, quickly making to follow after him.

You watch them go, wondering what the hell just happened. You really could not make sense of anything, from what Seonghwa had said to you to what just happened between him and Hongjoong. You look back down at your plate, realizing that your appetite truly has left you this time. Pushing the tray away, you turn to Mingi.

About a million questions are running through your mind, and it’s impossible to pick just one to ask. Mingi honestly looks just as shocked as you are, still watching the backs of the two that had just left. You glance past Mingi to look at San, who is practically mirroring Mingi.

Considering they’re both as confused as you are, you figure it probably wouldn’t do any good to ask them what had just happened. You hadn’t even realized, but, looking around the room, it seems like a lot of people have already started clearing out. Not many people remain in the cafeteria, and those that do look like they’re finishing up.

You notice that one of the stragglers is making his way over to the table, and it takes you a second to recognize that it’s Wooyoung, from earlier. He smiles at you, waving as he approaches the table. As he takes in the expressions of you three, however, his smile drops and his expression changes to one of concern. 

“Are you guys alright?” He asks once he reaches the end of the table, looking from you to Mingi to San and then back. 

This snaps Mingi and San out of their stunned states. “Yes?” Mingi replies, making his affirmation sound more like a question. 

Wooyoung nods, but he doesn’t look too convinced. “Uh-huh,” he looks around the room, seemingly trying to find what has the three of you so flabbergasted. “Anyways, we’re gonna have a bonfire if you guys would like to join us in the plain commons.” 

San perks up at this. “Of course! We’ll be there.” You look to him, and his confused expression has completely left his face, replaced with the cheerful smile you’ve come to know. 

Wooyoung’s smile returns, and he lets you guys know that it’ll be ready in just a few minutes. You return his smile, waving as he turns to go. As soon as he’s left, however, you go right back to being just as confused as before. 

As you’re about to ask Mingi what Seonghwa had meant by his question, San gets up. “I’ll clear these for you guys, if you want to head out.” He says, grabbing his tray and the trays in front of you and Mingi. 

Mingi thanks him, standing up from the bench. He puts his hand out for you, and you readily grab it as you follow suit. The two of you walk in silence back outside. Again, you really want to ask what Seonghwa had meant, but Mingi speaks before you can. “We’re alone.”

Yes, in fact, you two are finally alone. This was all that you had been wanting all day. Yet, in the moment, everything you’ve wanted to say disappears from your mind. You search for a response, and blurt out the first thing that comes to mind. “I really missed you.”

He squeezes your hand in his, a small smile coming to his face. “I missed you, too.”

You almost want to freeze right there in the hall. You two are alone. The realization is finally hitting you, and you want to dig your heels in and refuse to go outside. A gentle silence falls between you two, and you don’t want to go to the bonfire, you don’t want to meet any more new people. You want to spend time with Mingi, and with Mingi alone. You start to hesitate in your steps, until you really do stop.

Mingi goes on for a step, his arm pulling yours upward. He stops, once he feels the resistance, turning to look over his shoulder at you. “Is something wrong?” He asks, looking concerned.

You don’t know where it comes from, but you suddenly feel the tears pricking at the corners of your eyes and your chest tightening. “Hey,” Mingi quickly notices, dropping your hand so that he can fully turn back to face you. Your tears start falling from the concerned tone of his voice alone. He steps back to you, lightly putting his hands on the sides of your arms. “Don’t cry. Why are you crying?” He’s bending slightly, his face level with yours. The pained expression he’s wearing only serves to make the tears come faster.

You don’t even know how to answer him. Why are you crying? Because you missed him so much? Because he left you in the first place? Because you’re going to have to leave him tomorrow? Because your life will never go back to how it was when he was a part of it? There’s too many reasons. He should be asking why you hadn’t cried yet. You only start crying harder when you think, and Mingi starts looking almost scared.

That almost makes you laugh. Not that you had made a habit out of crying in front of him, but, whenever you had in the past, he normally would start freaking out. He had never had the faintest clue how to comfort you. Now, however, he straightens himself back to his full height and pulls you to him, taking his hands from your arms to wrap around you. One finds its way around your waist, while the other goes around your shoulders, his hand cradling the back of your head. 

Instinctively, you wrap yourself around him, letting him hold you in the hallway. Your hands clench the back of his shirt, holding him like you might lose him. With your face in his chest, now you really can’t stop the tears. You really begin to cry now, with noises arising from your chest that you don’t even attempt to stop. Mingi simply holds you, stroking the back of your head in an attempt to calm you down. He murmurs reassurances to you, continuing to let you let it all out. 

After a few minutes, you begin to calm down. Your thoughts become more coherent, and you realize what is actually happening right now. You are in the dark hallway of a commune building, being held by your best friend that had abandoned you for a farm. Trying to compose yourself, you let go of your death grip on Mingi’s shirt and pull yourself back. He lets you go, and, for a moment, you wish he didn’t. When you look up at him, wiping your tears with the backs of your hands, you notice wetness on his cheeks as well. He looks away from you, bringing his own hand up to his face in a copy of your motions. 

You clear your throat, really having no idea what to do now. “Sorry,” you whisper, looking at the floor and trying to memorize the pattern on the carpet over looking at Mingi’s red eyes again. 

He puts a hand on your shoulder, and you look up at him. He’s shaking his head, still not looking at you. With surprise, you realize he’s still crying. He opens his mouth, but nothing comes out. When he looks back down at you, his voice is hoarse. “No, I’m sorry.” It’s so quiet that you can barely hear it, and he pulls you back to him again.

This time, you’re the one to comfort him. His body starts shaking, sobs racking his chest as you hold him tight once more. He’s too tall to put his face in your neck, so he’s pressing into the side of your head, wetting your hair. His hands are clinging to your shirt, holding the fabric tight to your body. 

Your arms wrap around his neck, squeezing him to let him know you’re there. You play with the ends of his hair, trying to calm him as he had you. Your eyes become wet again. You had no idea that Mingi would be so torn up over you crying. 

After the course of another few minutes, Mingi seems to make the same realizations that you had. His grip on your shirt loosens, and he picks his head up, but he doesn’t let go. He leans back to look at you, and then he does let go. He takes his hands out from behind you and brings them up to your face, softly cupping your cheeks. His thumbs swipe under your eyes, drying them easily. 

You two stand there for a moment, your arms around his neck and his hands on your face. You quickly realize, however, that this is not a way that friends stand. You bring your arms down and step back, looking to the ground again. Mingi releases you easily, using his hands to wipe his own remaining tears. 

He clears his throat, looking around the hallway like he’s expecting someone to pop out at him. “We should probably get outside.”

You quickly agree, wiping your face once more and desperately hoping that it doesn’t look like you just bawled your eyes out. 

With that, you two start heading out again.

.・。.・゜✭ ⧖ ・.・ ⧖ ✫・゜・。.

The bonfire goes well. In the open space in front of the main building, there was a large fire and a few of those outdoor folding chairs set up. You and Mingi had claimed two a bit farther away from everyone else, and he had comfortingly held your hand while you two sat in a much more comfortable silence than before. 

As the fire is winding down, you notice San heading toward the two of you. He smiles, asking if you’re about ready to turn in.

Mingi yawns, letting go of your hand to stretch his arms out behind him. 

Honestly, you think you could go a few more hours. You ask San what time it is, wondering why he felt the need to come ask you guys. “It’s 8:45, and curfew is at 9.”

Of course there’s a curfew. It just would make things too easy if there wasn’t. You realize that San is telling more than he’s asking, so you stand. Mingi follows.

Once more, the three of you head into the main building and up the stairs. As you peruse the second floor to reach the next staircase, you notice that many others are entering rooms as well. At the third floor, Mingi takes the lead. He walks only a bit down the hallway before stopping in front of a door. 

“This is my room…” He trails off, looking between you and San. “I’ll see you in the morning, (Y/n)?” 

You smile, giving him a nod as he opens the door. He smiles back at you, before turning into the room and closing the door.

You follow San the rest of the way down the hallway, and up the stairs to the women’s floor. He leads you to your door, opening it once more for you. You look inside, and realize that you don’t have your overnight bag with you. You sigh, not wanting to have to go all the way back down the stairs and all the way back up them. You tell San this, leaning against the door frame with a dramatic hand on your face.

“Oh,” he starts, looking down the hall. “Don’t worry, I had Yunho grab your bag.”

You take the hand from your face, a confused expression gracing it. “Whose that?”

“Me!”

You jump, turning toward the voice. There stands, apparently, Yunho, holding your bag in both his hands in front of him. He extends his arms, presenting the bag to you. You take it, still shocked by his sudden appearance. 

He’s tall. Like, Mingi tall. His hair is a dark brown, slightly textured. He’s smiling at you, and its almost blindingly beautiful. Like everyone else, he’s in the same blue jeans and button down, accompanied by a pair of black suspenders. His sleeves are rolled up to his elbows, and, wow, does he look muscular. What is up with all the guys in this place? You seriously consider it for a second, before remembering that farming is very labor intensive work. His shoulders are so broad you wonder how his shirt even fits him, but that is a matter for another day.

Once more, you realize that you’ve been staring. You quickly look away, thanking him for getting your bag. 

He continues beaming at you, telling you that it’s not a problem at all. 

The three of you stand in silence in the hall, before you clear your throat. “Well, uh, goodnight?” You look between them, waiting for one of them to do something.

San moves first. “Goodnight, (Y/n)!” He gives your shoulder a pat as he walks away, back down the hallway to the stairs.

Yunho is quick to follow, saying his goodnight to you and going after San.

You watch them go before going into your room and closing the door. It’s just how you remember it. You set your bag down on the ground by the bed, opening it to grab your pyjamas. 

After going about your nightly routine, you pull the blankets back on the bed. You plan on distracting yourself for a bit, that is, mess around on your phone, before remembering that San still has it. 

Sighing, you get into bed and make yourself comfortable. You drift off faster than you would have expected, tired after your long day.

← previous || next → || masterlist

THE ANSWER: VII

Kim Hongjoong doesn’t like the word ‘cult.’ He prefers ‘sect.’ pairing: ateez x fem reader genre: cult au, thriller, angst check warnings on AO3

← previous || next → || masterlist chapter word count: 3,304

With that, the three of you make your way back outside.

While you’re happy that you’ve been offered a tour, really the only thing you want to focus on right now is Mingi. Afterall, he is the only reason you had come; and you really don’t think you need a tour of a place where you would be spending hardly two days of your life. On the walk back, San leads the way, leaving you and Mingi to walk shoulder to shoulder.

Not wanting to freak him out, you try to keep your staring to a minimum. This, however, is extremely difficult. Mingi looks pretty much exactly as you remember him. You’ll have to remember to ask him how he keeps his hair dyed that vibrant red in the middle of a farm that supposedly has no outside contact. He’s as handsome as ever, his skin tanned a few shades darker than in the last photo you had seen of him. It must be all the outdoor work. He’s dressed just about the same as everyone else you’ve seen (with the exception of Seonghwa, of course). 

He’s wearing blue jeans and a white button-up, complete with a pair of black suspenders. His collar is decorated just as San’s is, with that same little symbol. The realization makes you uneasy. San’s proclamation as the symbol as the ‘Sign of the Answer’ really is not sitting well with you. Along with the fact that literally every single other person you had cared to look at was also wearing one. It does not seem normal. It almost gave you religious vibes, which is absolutely not what you want to have gotten yourself into. 

Disregarding the hourglass, Mingi looks perfectly himself. Granted, he is acting a little awkward next to you. He’s standing probably a foot away from you, when your Mingi used to give you piggyback rides to class. No matter how many weird looks or jealous stares the two of you got, he would never deny your request for a ride. Now, he’s acting like you two have never met.

Occasionally, you glance over and catch him looking at you. Each time, he quickly whips his head back forward, facing San’s back. From the glimpses of his face, he really looks… well, confused. You have absolutely no idea why he’s acting so strange, or why he seems confused. Your dread only continues to build.

Once you’re all back outside, San turns back to you two and claps Mingi on the back. “What should we show her first?”

Mingi looks startled by the fact that he’s been asked a question. He looks at San like he just told him that ghosts are real, his eyes going wide and his eyebrows shooting up. “Uh,” he mumbles, looking around. “Maybe the ch-”

“The animal barn! Why didn’t I think of that?” San exclaims over Mingi, startling the poor man even further. Gazing out past them, you take in the layout of the farm more closely. There’s the large building behind you, another decently sized one to the left, facing directly towards the road, two barns next to each other, one behind the other (you wouldn’t know there was two from this angle, but you knew from the drive in), a small building directly across the path from the building behind you, and a few scattered sheds.

San notices your account, smiling, “Don’t worry, you’ll get to see everything!”

An awkward smile is all you can muster in response. To be honest, you really do not care to see everything. You just want to talk to Mingi. But San starts off across the path, making his way toward the barns. 

You and Mingi follow, and it really isn’t all that far of a walk. It hardly takes you two minutes to be standing between the two barns. Their entrances face each other, the doors swung wide open, giving you a pretty good view of the interior of both barns. The one to your left looks like an equipment barn, while the one to your right has the unmistakable smell of an animal barn. 

San looks to make sure that you two are still behind him, and waves you excitedly towards the entrance of the animal barn. For a moment, you take stock of your life. Is going into this disgusting animal barn really worth it? From what you can see now, probably not. The floor is nasty, the odor is unmistakably animal, and really, this is not what you had agreed to. 

Unfortunately, San and Mingi just go straight on in, leaving you with only one real option. You follow them in. To the right, the first thing you spot are horse pens. While there’s a considerably long row of pens, there are only three that are populated. Taking it all in, you realize that there are actually a lot of empty pens. To the left, there seems to be an indoor chicken coop. At least, that’s what it sounds like. And there really doesn’t seem to be that much else, in the case of animal inhabitants.

Further into the barn, you can see a couple people hauling hay bales. They’re too far away to really get a good look at them, but San has your back.

“Hey! Wooyoung, Jongho! Come here!” He calls out to them, beckoning them to join you guys near the front of the barn.

The two start making their way over to you three, and you remain awkwardly planted to your spot. How many people were you going to be introduced to today? Again, Mingi was truly the only person you cared about on this entire farm. Whatever, you just hope that Mingi and you will have some alone time, and soon. You’re dying to ask him so many things. 

Wooyoung and Jongho reach you three, one of them smiling widely at you and the other merely glancing at you. “Is this (Y/n)?” The smiling one asks, looking between San and Mingi. “It’s so great to meet you, welcome! I’m Wooyoung.” He sticks his hand out to you.

You respond in the affirmative, taking his hand and shaking it while taking him in. He’s also not very tall. His hair is dyed a dark blue, so dark that you can really only see the color when the light hits it right. He’s dressed in nice clothes, nicer than you would expect from someone throwing hay. Similarly to Mingi, he’s wearing just a plain button-up, the sleeves rolled to just below his elbows. His skin is glistening at the brow, slightly damp. As to be expected by the point, you spot the hourglass on his collar.

San takes in the exchange, piping up once you two finish shaking hands. “Wooyoung is in charge of all our meals! He runs the kitchens.” Wooyoung shyly grins, scoffing a bit. “And this ray of sunshine is Jongho, who is our lead farmer.” San gestures to the other man, who gives him a bit of a sarcastic smile. 

“Nice to meet you.” He says flatly, also reaching his hand out for yours. Again, you take the opportunity to take him in. In the nicest way possible, he looks like a farmer. From what you can see, he looks incredibly strong. His frame is sturdy, and his grip on your hand is almost enough to crush your fingers. Similarly to Mingi, his hair is dyed bright red. His skin is tanned, and he’s dressed entirely in work clothes, from cargo khakis to a moisture absorbing t-shirt. You can’t exactly help noticing how well it clings to his torso, accentuating the tone of his body. 

He must catch you looking, because he’s smirking when you look back up to his face. He scoffs, dropping your hand and crossing his arms in front of him. Embarrassed, you mutter a greeting to him as well. 

“If you don’t mind, San, we’re in the middle of something.” Jongho turns and gestures to the giant stack of hay that remains in the back of the barn. 

San shakes his head, “No problem at all, just thought I’d introduce you to the newbie!”

With that, Jongho turns and starts walking back. Wooyoung smiles again at you, reaching out to pat your shoulder a couple times. “Welcome again.” He jogs away to catch up with Jongho, saying something you can’t quite make out.

Wooyoung’s goodbye makes you pause for a second. Come to think of it, so had the way San said goodbye to the two of them. The newbie? Welcome? They were almost making it sound like you were going to be staying. To some extent, you were, but only for a night. Why were you even getting a tour and being introduced to people, anyways? It seemed, quite literally, useless.

Mingi pulls you out of your thoughts by grabbing your hand. Seemingly, he’s suddenly gotten over the awkwardness between you two. He points to the horses and drags you to them, stopping in front of the first horse. He excitedly tells you their names; ‘Spud,’ ‘Carol,’ and ‘Baby.’ They’re all quite tall, beautiful horses. They must all be related, for they all share the same, shiny brown coat. “They’re all draft horses, for doing farm work.”

He then pulls you to the chickens, and his behavior is starting to remind you of whenever you two would go exploring anywhere together. Once, for some ecology class he was taking, Mingi had been tasked with going to an aquarium for homework. Of course, he had brought you along and two made a day of it. You can still remember how his favorite part had been the shallow pool, where you could put your hands in and touch the creatures. Everytime a tiny stingray would pass by, he would stick his hand in, only to pull it out at the last second, squealing about how he was scared. He had looked at you with his big eyes and asked you to do it with him, saying it would give him confidence. You stuck your pinky out to him, telling him to grab on. You locked pinkies and waited. The next time one of the fish came around, you submerged your hands together, pinkies clenched. Mingi had tried to pull his hand out, but, with you anchoring him in, he ended up stroking the skin of the stingray. He had immediately started giggling and, as soon as your hands left the water, he asked to do it again. 

But that was then. Now, Mingi is holding a chicken up to you as it jerks in his hands, trying to free itself. He’s presenting it to you like you’ve never seen a chicken before, telling you to look at how skinny it is under the poof of its feathers (while simultaneously smooshing down its feathers on one side of its body). Farm boy Mingi had never been something you imagined, but, clearly, the farm life was suiting him well. 

Once Mingi gets worn out chasing chickens around (he had wanted to show you each one), San decides that you three should move on in your tour. You step out of the barn and are immediately thankful for the fresh air. Though you had gotten semi-used to the horrible stank of the animal barn, the clean air is a blessing. San continues walking over to the machinery barn, and gestures for you and Mingi to join him. 

Though the barn has the same exterior as the animal barn, the interior is vastly different. There’s poured concrete floors, fluorescent lighting, and finished walls. On either side of the barn, there are lines of farm vehicles, from tractors to pick-up trucks to four-wheelers. They’re all lined up pristinely. They hardly even look used. 

Well, most of them, anyways. To your immediate right, there’s a huge combine harvester that has clearly seen better days. That’s what you assume, at least, from the sight of the man hanging half inside of its engine and the various curse words streaming out of the compartment. 

San laughs, walking over and tugging on one of the guy’s feet. “What?” He responds, kicking his foot out to ward off San’s hand, but otherwise not making any move to emerge. 

“Do you want to meet (Y/n)?” San asks, dodging the man’s foot.

“I gue- son of a bitch, just a second.”

You look over at San, who is still smiling at the bottom half of this new man. Then you look over at Mingi, who is also looking at you. He gives you a knowing smile, like you’re in for something good. 

After a few seconds or so, you can finally see the top half of this man. He pops up and slips down off the front of the combine, before turning to face you. Despite his face and hands being covered in what you can assume to be grease, he’s absolutely stunning. He grabs a rag from the ground in front of the machine, trying to rub his hands free of residue. He quickly gives up.

Sticking his hands up, he plainly shows his dirty hands to you. “I’d shake your hand, but I don’t want you to have to deal with this filth. I’m Yeosang.” 

“I appreciate the gesture. I’m (Y/n).” You respond, smiling lightly at him.

Mingi tells you that Yeosang is a sort of mechanic around here, but that he normally doesn’t have much to do. Yeosang gives him a sarcastic smile in return, thanking him for his appreciation of his job.

“I’m technically in charge of the other mechanics, I normally don’t get my own hands dirty,” he explains, “but someone decided to not come do his job the one day of the year we make sure the combines will start.” Yeosang’s eyes squint and a frown forms on his face as he thinks of the offender. “So here I am.”

You giggle, taking the moment to observe Yeosang. He’s dressed similarly to how Jongho was dressed, in clothes meant to be worked hard in. His front is splattered with black grease, and his hands are absolutely covered in it. On his face, there are patches here and there from where he has swiped. His hair is long, similar to San’s, though entirely white-blonde. At least, you’d imagine it’s that color when it’s clean. Again, he is not much taller than you, but he is clearly built under his shirt. Not wanting a repeat of the Jongho situation, you quickly move your eyes back to his face. 

The four of you stand in a somewhat awkward silence, glancing from person to person, waiting for someone to say something next.

Yeosang takes one for the team, “Well, I’m going to get back to this.” He points behind him to the combine engine. “Good to meet you, (Y/n).” He smiles, giving you a tiny wave and a nod before turning and hoisting himself back up onto the combine.

Since you can see pretty much everything in the barn just from the front, San states that you have probably seen the extent of it and starts leading the way back outside. “What do you think we should show her next, Mingi?” San asks, looking out across the open space. 

“Uh,” Mingi starts, hurriedly looking around for somewhere interesting. “We could show her the apartments.”

“Good thinking!” San exclaims, setting off toward the first building that you had been in. You’re beginning to notice that San always seems to be quite upbeat. You three quickly are able to cross the open space and are to the door once more in just a couple minutes. Walking in for the second time, San heads for the right and the stairs that you had noticed earlier. “Everyone has their own room, and each floor has three bathrooms,” San starts, taking the first couple steps up the stairs. “There’s five floors total, and 25 rooms each, but not all the rooms are filled!”

The top of the stairs turn to the left and open into a hallway. It’s pretty drab, like most apartment complexes you’ve seen in your life. You can see that, at the end of the hallway, there is another set of stairs leading up. About halfway to that end, the hallway branches off on either side, presumably to reach more rooms. 

San leads you down the hallway, continuing to explain how things work. There’s a coed floor, a female floor, and a male floor. People can pick where they’re most comfortable. Couples of the opposite gender are allowed to live together, but only on the coed floor. Married couples with children can take larger apartments on the top floor. 

That one takes you by surprise. “There are married couples here? And children?”

San turns and looks at you like you’d grown a second head. “Why wouldn’t there be?”

You shrug, not really knowing why it had surprised you. Thinking back to when you were in the cafeteria, you can’t really remember seeing anyone that looked to be at marriage age. Honestly, everyone looked to be in their twenties. And you could not recall seeing a single child. But, if San says so... 

You reach the end of the hall, and walk up the next flight of stairs. The next floor is quite similar to the previous, and San lets you know that this is the male floor. At the end of this hallway, there is another set of stairs. Again, you three make your way to it and head up. San explains that this is the woman’s floor. 

San starts prattling off rules and information again. Men are allowed on the women’s floor and vice versa, but only between the hours of 9 A.M. and 9 P.M. Couples of opposite gender are welcome to spend nights together, but they must take empty rooms on the coed floor. 

You find yourself wondering, again, what the point in telling you all of this was. You are going to be staying here for literally one night, not the rest of your life. Why San felt the need to tell you this was absolutely beyond you.

San stops in front of a door near the opposite end of the hallway, near the next staircase going up. He opens the door, saying that this is where you’ll be staying tonight. “Unless… you two want to stay together?” He raises his eyebrows, smirking a little bit.

Despite not looking to see Mingi’s reaction, you know that the poor boy must be beet red. A strangled sound comes from him, and he quickly starts sputtering about how your relationship isn’t like that. “Yeah, not at all,” you add, bringing a hand up to scratch at your neck. 

San laughs at your reactions. “Well, I just thought I’d put it out there!”

You continue feeling awkward regardless. To try and relieve yourself, you stick your head into the room to take a look around. It’s quite simple, there’s a bed you would probably guess is full-sized in the back left corner, and a bookcase (that’s entirely empty) on the right wall. To the right of the door, there’s a desk with a small lamp. There is a window on the back wall, and you notice that the sun has already started setting.

Has it really been that long since you arrived? You hadn’t even eaten lunch, but it seemed like the day was drawing to a close. As if on cue, a bell rings throughout the facility. It makes you jump, and you quickly turn to San and Mingi once more, looking for an explanation. It sounds exactly like a school bell, indicating the change of the period.

Mingi giggles at your reaction, already reaching to grab your hand once more. “Dinner time!”

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THE ANSWER: VI

Kim Hongjoong doesn’t like the word ‘cult.’ He prefers ‘sect.’ pairing: ateez x fem reader genre: cult au, thriller, angst check warnings on AO3

← previous || next → || masterlist chapter word count: 2,180

The knock scares the shit out of you, to say the least. You jump up, almost throwing your phone out of your hands. However, once you comprehend that you’re the out-of-place one in this situation, you set your phone down and turn to the window, rolling it down.

Through the now open window, you can see the person that had knocked. You quickly give him a once over, taking in the stranger. The first thing you notice about him, truly, is how handsome he is. His face is round, yet sculpted, with catlike eyes that hold an almost mischievous glint. His hair is pulled back in the front and longer in the back, sporting a light under-dye. He smiles at you, bringing a hand up to wave. “Sorry for startling you! You must be (Y/n), right?”

For a moment, you’re confused. How in the world did this stranger know your name? It quickly passes, however; as you realize that they must not get very many visitors. Your arrival had probably been anticipated by most of the people living here. You don’t realize that you’re still staring at him until he clears his throat a bit and smiles once more to you. “Oh, sorry, yeah, I’m (Y/n)...” you leave off, wondering what you should say, “is it alright if I park here?”

He chuckles at your response. “Its perfectly fine. If you’re ready to go, I can bring you inside.” When he finishes his sentence, he raises himself up to his full height, and you’re able to take in his outfit. He wears a simple button-down tucked into loose pants, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. The sun shines brightly down onto him, and a glint near his face catches your eye. Fixed onto his collar, he wears an enamel pin. Its two triangles, one a reflection of the other. Their points meet in the middle, creating an hourglass shape. Realizing, once again, that you have been staring for an entirely inappropriate amount of time, you tear your eyes away from the pin and turn back into your car. You unbuckle your seatbelt and unplug your phone from the auxiliary cord, before opening your door and stepping out.

The stranger smiles at you again, gesturing for you to follow him as he starts toward the nearest building. It has a simple enough exterior, gray siding with multiple windows. If you didn’t know better, you would think it looks almost like an apartment building. You don’t really have much of a chance to take in any more of the outdoors, as you are quickly to what appears to be the front door. As the man starts to pull the door open, he stops. “Where have my manners gone? I haven’t even introduced myself. My name is San. Choi San.” He extends his free hand, waiting for you to shake it. You oblige, smiling. 

After the handshake, he pulls the door open and steps aside, allowing you to go first. He then steps in, allowing the door to shut behind him. The room you’ve entered into is what feels like a lobby. There’s some wide open space, with a set of stairs to your right and a hallway to your left. Ahead of you, there’s a couple couches, and some tables with chairs set up around them. The overhead lights aren’t on, but the multitude of windows let in enough natural light for it to be welcoming enough. San turns to the left and starts heading down the hallway. 

“This is just a formality, but do you happen to have your phone on you?” He asks as he continues to lead you through the hall. You tell him you do, bringing your hand up to show him the phone in your grasp. “Ah, see, we are off the grid here, so there’s no phone usage allowed. If you wouldn’t mind, I’ll hold onto your phone until you leave.”

You two reach the end of the hallway, at least, that branch of it. It turns off to the right, and you assume you’ll be heading down their next. The request for your phone does weird you out a little bit. How was Mingi texting you if they were supposedly ‘off the grid?’ San notices your hesitation and assures you that your phone will be safe with him. He reaches his hand out, palm up, waiting for you. After a few more seconds, you hand your phone over to him. They probably just didn’t want some outsider exposing their little haven to the rest of the world. It’s not that weird that they wouldn’t want you to have your phone. He slips the phone into one of his pockets, and then the two of you turn right and head down the next hallway. 

“We have all been so excited to have a visitor,” San glances to look over at your face. “It’s pretty rare that we get them.” You look back at him, not really sure what to say. You weren’t exactly excited to see ‘everyone,’ moreso just ‘one.’ As you two continue down the hall, you try to think of something to say to fill the silence.

For whatever reason, your mind is still a bit fixated on the pin attached to San’s collar. “Can I ask what that symbol means?” You point to the pin.

San’s eyes light up at your question. At the mention of the pin, he seems so suddenly excited. “It’s the Sign of the Answer.” He smiles widely at you.

Again, you have no idea how to respond to that. What the hell does that mean? The Sign of the Answer. An amount of dread curls itself up into your stomach. You force a small smile to your face, nodding at San. The silence envelops you two again, but you’re soon to a door at the end of the hallway.

Well, less of a door, its actually an archway. Probably three feet wide and open to the ceiling, it opens into a gigantic room. The room is full of tables and people, and you can quickly discern it to be a cafeteria. To your surprise, it actually seems like there’s a lot of people living here. Even if everyone was in the cafeteria, which you knew they weren’t, considering the people outside, there had to be at least 40 people. 

Everyone seemed to be milling about casually, there wasn’t any actual food to be seen. Once the initial shock about the amount of people wears off, your mind snaps back to the reason you had come. You quickly look about the room, desperately trying to find Mingi in the sea of people. After what felt like an eternity, you spot him. 

His hair is still red. He’s sitting with another man, the two of them laughing together. Your mind doesn’t really take in the other man, merely the existence of Mingi is enough to overwhelm your senses. Before you know it, your feet are moving on their own and you’re practically running to him. You can hear San following behind you and it feels like it takes you forever to reach Mingi.

You call out to him when there’s only about ten more feet remaining between the two of you. You watch his head turn, and the emotions crossing his face. For a brief second, he looks terribly lost. However, the expression is quickly replaced with what you know to be joy. He stands up from the table, facing you and opening his arms wide.

You can’t help yourself. You do run the last couple feet into his arms. Your arms fly up around his neck, locking together behind him. Similarly, his arms wrap around your waist and he crushes you to him. Before you know it, you’re in the air, twirling around with Mingi. Your senses are completely overwhelmed with him. Mingi. It’s like every bone in your body is calling out for him, like your very cells are each filling with him. Your head is resting on his chest, his shirt soft beneath your cheek. He smells like laundry detergent and maple, a bit different from how you remember. You can feel his breath brushing across the top of your head, and hear a small laugh coming from him. His arms squeeze you tighter as he stops spinning and sets you down, not letting you go. Your hands behind his neck reach up to grasp some of his hair, your fingers weaving between the threads. 

What finally breaks the two of you apart is the laughter coming from behind Mingi. The both of you pull away, awkwardly untangling yourselves and turning to face the sound of the laughter. The man that Mingi had been sitting with is now standing, San at his side. The man stops laughing, and you take him in. 

He’s short. Probably taller than you, but barely. He’s honestly quite handsome as well. He has light brown hair, short in the front, undercut on the sides, but flowing down in the back, longer than his shoulders. His face is longer, sharper, and his eyes have a depth to them that makes him feel wise. He seems to be watching you just as closely as you’re watching him, taking in your every movement and reaction. You look to his outfit, and he is dressed relatively similar to everyone else. Simple farm chic. One thing stands out, however, and that is the large pendant necklace he’s wearing. It’s almost impossible to miss, probably a couple inches tall, it’s the same symbol that’s on San’s pin. 

The man continues watching you as San beckons you closer to the two of them. “(Y/n), this is Hongjoong. He’s the leader here.” 

Hongjoong reaches his hand out towards you. “It’s so nice to finally meet you, (Y/n). Mingi has told us so much about you.”

You take Hongjoong’s hand, expecting another handshake. To your surprise, he brings your hand up to his lips, pressing a kiss onto your knuckles. 

For the third time today, you are absolutely dumbfounded. Is everyone here just kind of… weird? When Hongjoong lets go of your hand, it takes everything in you to not ask why the hell he just did that. However, as the dread from earlier makes itself known in your stomach once more, you decide it’s probably best if you don’t offend anyone here. You do walk back to where you had been standing next to Mingi before, though. “It’s good to meet you, too. Uh,” you leave off, wondering what to say. “How long have you guys been running this place?”

“About three years, now.” Hongjoong’s eyes meet yours. “You’re welcome to stay as long as you’d like.”

Awkwardly, you smile at him, thanking him for his welcome. Not that you planned on taking him up on his offer, anyway. You’re about to ask if you and Mingi can go somewhere to talk privately, but you’re interrupted by another man coming up from behind you. He shoves himself between the gap of you and Mingi, bumping your shoulder and almost sending you stumbling. “What the he-”

You’re cut off by the new guy’s voice. “Hongjoong, I need to speak to you privately.” He stops directly in front of Hongjoong, his back facing you. He’s tall, not as tall as Mingi, but getting up there. To your surprise, he’s not dressed like everyone else. Its like he’s dressed in an entire suit. You look over at Mingi, giving him a look. What was this dude’s issue? Mingi’s eyes just go wide, shrugging his shoulders to you. 

“Seonghwa, is that anyway to treat our guest?” You can’t see Hongjoong, but you can hear the scolding in his tone. He almost sounds like a mother, trying to keep her cool as her kids are acting out in the grocery store. Seonghwa quickly spins around, giving you a once over. You give him one right back. He is wearing a suit. Adorned with a sash, pins, and medals. Nearly all of them display some form of the hourglass. His hair is jet black, undercut on the sides but long on the top. You barely have a chance to comprehend how pretty his eyes are before he rolls them, sighing and crossing his arms. 

“Nice to meet you, (Y/n).” He wheels back around to face Hongjoong. “Seriously, we need to talk.”

“Well,” Hongjoong steps out from behind Seonghwa, reestablishing his smile from before, “you’ll have to excuse us, then. San, Mingi, why don’t you give (Y/n) a tour of the grounds?” His gaze turns to Seonghwa, clapping a hand onto the man’s shoulder and pulling him to turn and face you once more. Seonghwa gives you another uninterested look, huffing as him and Hongjoong start making their way past you and out of the cafeteria. 

“You’ll have to excuse Seonghwa, he doesn’t really warm up to new people very fast.” San steps back closer to you and Mingi, watching the two of them go. “Shall we start that tour?”

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THE ANSWER: IV

Kim Hongjoong doesn’t like the word ‘cult.’ He prefers ‘sect.’ pairing: ateez x fem reader genre: cult au, thriller, angst check warnings on AO3

← previous || next → || masterlist chapter word count: 2,076

You let the thought simmer in your mind for a few days.

You and Mingi continued to talk and catch up, and he seemed to be getting more relaxed and like himself as time went on. Its been about two days since you got into contact. Now, its Tuesday night. Mingi is urging you to come visit on Saturday. He keeps telling you how badly he wants to see you in person and, if you’re being honest with yourself, you desperately want to see him, too. It had been so long, and you could probably kill for one of his hugs.

That’s how he used to always greet you, with a hug. His signature style was the pick-up-spin. He’d tightly wrap his arms around the lower part of your waist and hoist you up, spinning the both of you until you were dizzy. Then he’d set you down and give you that big smile, his eyes shrinking as his smile grew larger and larger. Sometimes, he’d leave his hands on your waist and you would simply stand there, admiring the feeling. Thinking back, you wonder why you had never appreciated the greetings more. 

Anyhow, you still have your reservations about visiting Mingi. Sure, you have the weekend off and it wouldn’t be a big deal to go. However, you have to take into account the fact that you are a single woman, and it probably wouldn’t be that hard to kidnap you. Then again, you find it very hard to believe that Mingi would ever willingly put you in danger. If he thought that you would get hurt, there is no way he would be inviting you. 

.・。.・゜✭ ⧖ ・.・ ⧖ ✫・゜・。.

While you’re at work later that day, you still are laboring over your decision. You even find yourself about to ask your boss; but he seems busy, as he had bought another painting to hang up. Though this painting he had purchased was not another ass naked lady, it wasn’t really a step above her. It was an ass naked man. Your boss had happily proclaimed ‘we have an Adam for Eve’ when he showed it to you when you arrived for your shift. Great. Just what you wanted. Another nude portrait to stare at for hours at work. 

You try to at least look busy, despite your mind being occupied and there being absolutely no customers in the shop. You’re about to make sure that the coffee makers are hot for the tenth time today, until you hear your phone ding from your back pocket. Looking up to make sure your boss is still preoccupied with ‘Adam,’ you quickly pull your phone out to see the message.

To your surprise (and mild disappointment) its Jungeun. Apparently she’s got a group of friends from school to agree to hang out tonight, and is wondering if you’ll join. You think about it for a second. Do you really want to go out drinking on a Tuesday night? When Mingi was on the forefront of your mind? You would probably end up embarrassing yourself, but you decide that you should go. Plus, then you can tell them all about your dilemma. For a second, you wonder who all will be there, but decide against asking. You really shouldn’t be on your phone in front of your boss.

“(Y/n), come over here and let me know if Adam looks crooked,” your boss says unnecessarily loud, beckoning to you from behind the corner. You sigh as you move out to join him on the floor. At least you have something to look forward to tonight.

.・。.・゜✭ ⧖ ・.・ ⧖ ✫・゜・。.

The place that the group of friends had decided on was one that had been popular amongst you all when you were in school. The bar is technically named ‘Wonderland,’ but had been affectionately nicknamed ‘Dirt’ by students long before yourself. The nickname was given because the place was ‘dirt’ cheap, a necessity for any university student.

When you arrive at Dirt, you sit in your car for a moment. Do you really want to go in? Really? Wouldn’t it be better to just go home and seriously think about visiting Mingi? Shaking your head to clear your thoughts, you remind yourself that you deserve this. Your whole life didn’t need to revolve around Mingi… right?

Grabbing your bag from the passenger’s seat, you open your door and step out of the car. You’re immediately greeted by the loud din coming from the inside of the bar, but its almost a comforting sound.  The cool, nearly-autumn air soothes some of your nerves. When was the last time you had gone out? It had to have been before graduation-- before Mingi left. 

You walk into the bar, stepping over the threshold and taking in the familiar sights. The long, wooden bar that ran from end to end on the left side of the room; the circular tables with mismatched chairs; and the walls plastered in pictures of patrons past. As soon as you glance to the ‘Wall of Fame,’ you can’t help but walk over to it. The ‘Wall of Fame’ was devoted to every and any one that was able to finish the signature ‘Wonderland Meal.’ The meal consisted of a quadruple cheeseburger, 12 chicken wings, a serving of tater tots, and a literal half gallon of Corona. Since you had visited last, there clearly had been more winners. New students that you didn’t recognize peppered the walls, mostly uninteresting frat boys, but you knew what you were looking for. Now surrounded by a cluster of others, was the photo Mingi had had taken of him when he completed the challenge. 

He had insisted on you being in the picture with him. His arm was flung over your shoulders, holding you close to him. You were looking up at him, holding a hand up and trying to hide your face from the camera while he was smiling radiantly at it. The flash had been on, and the background surrounding the two of you hadn’t developed in the picture. It looked like the two of you were completely alone, with only each other in a black abyss. Mingi looked so happy.

And he had been happy, until the next day. He was so sick that he couldn’t even get himself out of bed. Fulfilling your duties as his best friend, you hadn’t gone to any of your classes that day so that you could take care of him. He moaned and groaned the entire day, whining about how you could have let him do this to himself. You consistently reminded him that you had told him it would be a terrible idea, and how he had ignored your advice. He still blamed it on you, though. 

“Hey, (Y/n), you in there?” 

You’re immediately pulled out of the memory by the feeling of a hand on your shoulder. You turn to face the owner, and find Jungeun standing at your side. “I called your name, like, three times. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine!” You assure her, trying your hardest to put a genuine smile on your face. It doesn’t work very well. “Is everyone here yet?”

Jungeun removes her hand from your shoulder to gesture over to one of the tables behind you. Sure enough, its full with a few others that you had known from school. Changbin, of course, along with Haseul, Juyeon, and Soojin. You can’t help but feel the usual ache in your stomach when you comprehend Mingi’s absence. Changbin is the first to notice that you’ve turned around, and he waves at you happily. The others quickly take notice and start to wave you over. 

Blushing, you make your way over to the table with Jungeun in tow. You two take the only two empty spots at the table. Once the awkwardness of your semi-late arrival passes, the evening takes off.

.・。.・゜✭ ⧖ ・.・ ⧖ ✫・゜・。.

“Wait, (Y/n), tell them about the Mingi situation,” Jungeun giggles, leaning back in her chair so hard that it almost tips over. 

Everyone at the table bursts out laughing in response that you almost forget what she had said by the time everyone cools down. Your cheeks hurt from smiling, and the pleasant warmth coursing through your body does nothing to stop you from blurting it out.

“Well, remember Song Mingi?” You ask, bringing your glass up to take a sip as the group watches you. “How he dropped out? Apparently he joined a commune,” you cut yourself off with a laugh. A commune! Everyone joins you in your laughter.

“A commune? Who joins a commune in 2021?” Haseul manages to choke out, laughing so hard that she looks like she’s struggling to breathe. 

“That’s what I’m wondering!” Juyeon yells, perhaps a bit louder than he anticipated.

“Shhhhh guys, wait until you hear the rest,” Jungeun brings a finger to her lips, exaggerating her motions. 

Once you’ve caught your breath again, you resume, “He invited me to come visit.”

This inspires an entirely new bout of laughter, and you suddenly feel dizzy. The weight of reality settles on your shoulders again. You set the glass in your hand down, pushing it towards the center of the table. God, you are so going to regret this tomorrow.

Your mood must influence the table, because everyone is suddenly as quiet as you are. Haseul glances at Soojin, who glances at Jungeun, who glances at you. 

“Why the sour mood all of a sudden?” Changbin asks, his pink cheeks serving to make him look only more confused. Juyeon, sitting on Changbin’s left, pinches his side, but he does not take the hint. “Oh yeah, (Y/n) had a thing fo-”

He’s cut off by Soojin slapping him upside the head.

Everyone looks over to you, trying to gauge your reaction. Honestly, you don’t even know how to react. You’re dizzy, the light above the table is too bright, and Changbin isn’t making sense at all. You feel your lips melt into a frown. This isn’t right. You know what Changbin was going to say, and it just wasn’t true. You place your elbows up on the table, leaning your head down to rest your face in your hands. You feel like crying.

“Are you going to go?” You hear Haseul ask from your right. She says it so softly that you almost don’t hear it. 

You take your head out of your hands and notice the wetness left by your eyes. Huh. You had started crying. You turn to face her, the wetness on your cheeks turning cold as the air moves over them. She looks serious, the flush of her face completely gone. 

“I don’t know.”

“I think you should,” Jungeun cuts in.

Now you turn to look at her. Similar to Haseul, a solemn expression has come over her face and she seems to have sobered up. 

“I really want to,” you start, but a sob works its way up your chest and cuts you off. For a second, you wonder if other people in the bar are watching. “But, wha- what if its dangerous?”

Jungeun scootches her chair closer to yours and reaches her arms out to wrap around you. She crushes you into a hug, petting the back of your head. To your side, you can hear Changbin start to ask another question, “What if its a cul-” before he is once again cut off by something you can’t see with your face buried in Jungeun’s shoulder. 

After a moment, Jungeun extends her arms and pulls back from you, making sure she can look in your eyes. “Do you think Mingi would put you in danger?” You sniffle and shake your head, bringing a hand up to wipe the tears from your eyes. 

“Then you should go.” You hear Haseul encourage from behind you. Jungeun nods in agreement and lets go of your shoulders. You lean back in your chair to take in the consensus of the group.

Soojin and Juyeon are also nodding at you. Changbin looks a bit doubtful, giving Soojin a nasty side-eye. You feel Haseul rest a hand on your right shoulder, and when you look at her, she’s smiling brightly. 

You scan over your friends’ faces, and think about how wonderful it would have been if Mingi had been here tonight. He was the only person you truly wanted to see. Nevertheless, you smile at them all. They had helped you reach your decision.

“I’ll go.”

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THE ANSWER: III

Kim Hongjoong doesn’t like the word ‘cult.’ He prefers ‘sect.’ pairing: ateez x fem reader genre: cult au, thriller, angst check warnings on AO3

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chapter word count: 2,238

After you two had finally found a way to contact Mingi, you brought Jungeun back to the restaurant where you had had brunch so that she could get her car and saw her off. You had taken the piece of paper with you, as that’s where you had jotted the phone number that Mingi’s mother gave you.

Once you were finally back to your apartment, it was nearly 5 p.m. The day had been a long one, but at least you had accomplished your only goal. Luckily, you didn’t have work the next day, and you knew that you would be able to stay up all night talking to Mingi.

That is, if you ever worked up the courage to message him. 

Currently, you were starting at the blank chatroom you started with the new Mingi contact in your phone. You couldn’t decide what to say. There was so much to ask, so much to explain, and so much to talk about. You have absolutely no idea where you’re supposed to start. Introduce yourself like he forgot about you? Ask what the hell he thinks he’s doing, running away to live on a commune? Just text him like you normally would? There were too many options. It was all too much.

You groan, locking your phone and setting it down. You lean back into your couch, bringing your hands up to rub your face. You had not anticipated what you would do when you actually got Mingi’s number. You hadn’t even thought of it. How could you not think about what you wanted to say to him first? Sighing, you propel yourself up and off the couch and head into your kitchen area.

Your apartment wasn’t grand by any means, but at least it wasn’t a studio. There was an open kitchen-living area, a single bedroom, and a single, full bathroom. The kitchen was nothing special, it hardly had cooking space, but it was enough to sustain you. Making your way to the fridge, you open it and bend to see inside. You spot a sandwich that you had made to take to work yesterday, but had forgotten about in the morning. Stupid morning shift.

You grab the sandwich and pull off the plastic wrapping that you had covered it in, throwing it away before heading back to your couch. Rather than think about what to say to Mingi, you decide to flip the TV on and try to pay attention to whatever the first thing that comes on is. This does not work.

You go straight back to thinking about what you should say to Mingi while inhaling the sandwich in your hands. For a brief second, Mingi escapes you as you try to remember how long its been since you ate this morning. Seven hours? Six? AH- Who cares? You need to think of something to say to Mingi. Anything. 

Unfortunately, your mind just keeps running in the same circles. There are pros and cons to everything that you could possibly say to him. Finishing off your sandwich, your brain presents you with a rather disturbing thought.

What if Mingi thinks its weird that you found him? Creepy, even? For goodness sake, you had found his mother’s phone number on his school profile. You had to admit, you would probably think it was weird if you were in his position. A worse thought comes to mind immediately after.

What if Mingi doesn’t want to hear from you?

These thoughts are enough to scare the shit out of you. You don’t want to scare Mingi away immediately after you get him back. You can’t do anything to risk losing him again. So how the hell are you supposed to contact him?

You lost the ability to form a coherent thought. Picking up your phone, you take note of the time. You’d been thinking for an hour. And your deliberations were going nowhere. You unlocked the phone and were, once again, greeted with the sight of the blank chatroom. Sighing, you exit out and open the phone, scrolling to Jungeun’s name and selecting the ‘call’ button.

She picked up pretty quickly. Embarrassed, you thought that she had probably been expecting you to overthink and need to call her. Jungeun always knew that you were that type of person. “Hey, (y/n), how are you?”

You bite your lip, thinking for a moment what you should say to her. “I’m scared to text him,” is what you decide on.

“Why?”

“What if he thinks its weird? What if he doesn’t want to tal-”

“That is absolutely not what is going to happen,” Jungeun plainly states. She sounds so sure of herself that you are stunned into silence, waiting to hear what she will say next. “(Y/n), I love you, but you overthink way too much sometimes. Mingi will love to hear from you. Simply tell him that you’ve missed him and want to get back in contact. The worst that will happen is he will ignore you. And, if he does, that’s entirely his loss.”

Your silence continues. You know that all of what Jungeun just said is true. The little pep talk actually does a lot to motivate you, so you quickly thank her and hang up the phone.

You’re still nervous, but you will just follow her advice. Jungeun was right, he will really like to hear from you. And, if he doesn’t, then that’s his problem. 

Immediately after hanging the phone up, you open your messages app back up and go back into the empty conversation with Mingi. Without overthinking it, you type out a quick message.

Hey, Mingi, its (y/n), from school. I hope you’re doing well, I was hoping you might want to catch up a little bit. I miss you. 6:27 P.M.

The sound of the message being sent rings out in your living room. No going back now. You continue to stare at your message, trying to make sure that you didn’t make any typos or grammar mistakes. There’s none, from what you can tell. 

You sit in the chatroom for the coming minutes waiting for anything. A read receipt, a typing notification, a response, anything. Absolutely anything would be better than this mind-numbing silence. Sighing once more, you lock your phone again and turn your attention to the TV. You hadn’t even realized it, but Grey’s Anatomy had been playing for, presumably, this entire time. You find it almost ironic how the situation you’re in right now is one fit for a melodrama. Mingi had hated these kinds of shows, always wondering why someone would want to be sad on purpose. 

You wonder if he knew how upset his leaving had made you. Had he even thought of you when he left? Why didn’t he ask you to come with him? Had he been forced? Was he in danger? Did he hate you? Did he leave so that he wouldn’t have to see you anymore? Ugh- you shake your head to clear it of these thoughts. No, Mingi had simply not thought about how hurt you would be… but that in itself hurts, too.  How could he not have considered your feelings?

You unlock your phone again to stare at the chatroom. Still nothing. How long is this gonna take? You hadn’t even thought about the waiting period. You turn your phone’s notification volume almost to the max, not wanting even a second to go by where you are unaware that you had received a message. You lock the phone once again.

.・。.・゜✭ ⧖ ・.・ ⧖ ✫・゜・。.

Somewhere along the way, you had fallen asleep on your couch, waiting for a response. In your defence, it had been a very tiring day. Still, you had awoken because of your familiar notification sound, indicating that you had received a text. Thank God you had turned the volume all the way up.

Hurriedly, you pick up your phone (it had fallen onto the ground) and flip it over, unlocking it to find that it had still been locked on the once empty conversation. Now; however, it had your message accompanied by one more. 

(Y/n)!? Its great to hear from you! I’d love to catch up, but you’re probably sleeping. Text me in the morning. 2:20 A.M.

Forget texting him in the morning, you were going to respond to him right here and right now. Without really thinking about it, you shoot him another message

Mingi, you would not believe how hard I’ve been looking for you. Are you alright? 2:21 A.M.

You’re fully awake now, sitting up on your couch and not-so-patiently waiting for Mingi’s response. The minutes trickle by, and Mingi doesn’t respond. Soon enough, its 2:41 and it doesn’t seem like Mingi will be responding at all again tonight. 

Fulfilled that you had at least gotten some sort of response from him, you decide that its probably alright if you go to sleep. At least you know he’s alive. You haul yourself off of your couch and head to your bedroom, quickly changing into some pajamas that you had scattered about the floor, and hopping into bed. Surprisingly, it didn’t take long to fall asleep.

.・。.・゜✭ ⧖ ・.・ ⧖ ✫・゜・。.

The constant alarm that you have set on the alarm clock wakes you up at 8:30 sharp. Instantly, your thoughts turn to Mingi and you briefly wonder if you had hallucinated him texting you back last night. Looking around, you realize that you must have left your phone in the living room, as it isn’t on the nightstand where you normally would rest it. 

You hurriedly pull your blankets off of you, eager to get to your phone; and, by extension, Mingi. Once you’re out of bed and into the living room, you’re able to spot your phone right where you must have left it, on one of your couch cushions. Excitedly, you grab it to check your notifications. Sure enough, Mingi had responded.

I’m doing great. Loving life. How are you? 5:30 A.M.

Jeez, what was Mingi doing up at 5 A.M? And, come to think of it, why had he been awake in the middle of the night last night? Your confusion quickly is replaced with joy, however. Joy that you had found Mingi, joy that he was apparently doing alright, and joy that you could finally talk to him again. 

I’m relieved that you’re alright. What have you been up to? 8:34 A.M.

Did that seem weird? Was that a weird thing to say? Hopefully not. This time, it doesn’t take Mingi long at all to respond.

I live on a commune now! I know that may sound strange, but its honestly so wonderful here. The community is amazing. Did you graduate? 8:36 A.M.

Of course, you had known about the commune. It still seemed odd to you, though. What the hell had inspired him to drop out of college and quit society? It just didn’t feel to you like something that your Mingi would have ever done. Thinking of a way to keep the conversation on the topic at hand, you respond.

I graduated, yeah! If you don’t mind me asking, what made you join? 8:39 A.M.

You internally cringe at how weirdly formal you’re being. This is nothing like how you and Mingi used to interact. He seems so stiff, almost like he needs to give you perfect responses. A few minutes pass and Mingi still hasn’t responded. Without even thinking about it, you hit the dial icon next to his contact name, and your phone is ringing. 

You bring it up to your ear and listen to the dial tone. If he picked up, you wouldn’t even know what to do. If seeing his picture yesterday had evoked such a reaction in you, what would hearing his voice do? Unfortunately, your question is never answered. He doesn’t pick up, and his voicemail isn’t set up, either.

Sighing, you go back into the chatroom and see that Mingi had texted you again.

Sorry, can’t really talk on the phone right now. To answer your question, it was the people. 8:45 A.M.

There’s that awkward, stiff tone right now. Mingi would have never sounded so formal with you. It was so weird to interact with him in this way. And that answer. What the hell does that even mean, ‘the people?’ You’re almost becoming a little frustrated with Mingi. Why couldn’t he talk on the phone? Ugh.

I see. What’s it like there? 8:46 A.M.

This time, you hardly have to wait a second before Mingi replies.

Do you want to come check it out? We love visitors. 8:46 A.M.

Huh? Come check it out? Mingi was already inviting you to come visit, despite you two only being in contact for, what, 10 hours total? Was he that eager to see you? Why hadn’t he reached out himself, then? Or… was this a ploy. Were you going to be invited to visit and then not be able to leave? 

No. Mingi wouldn’t do that. He would never put you in danger. Still, though, you decide that you should probably think about it before giving him a definite yes or no. Afterall, you have a job to worry about. 

Let me get back to you on that. 8:50 A.M.

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THE ANSWER: II

Kim Hongjoong doesn’t like the word ‘cult.’ He prefers ‘sect.’ pairing: ateez x fem reader genre: cult au, thriller, angst check warnings on AO3

← previous || next → || masterlist chapter word count: 2,937

Jungeun was always early. It was almost uncanny how she always managed to beat you places despite you accounting for her earliness. As to be expected, Jungeun was already at the restaurant when you arrived.

You two had decided to meet for brunch to start your search for Mingi. It had also been a while since the two of you had been able to meet up, so it would be a good opportunity to play catch-up on the last few months of your lives. You are mildly concerned that there would be too much to talk about, and that Mingi would slowly drift farther and farther to the back of your minds; however, you’re resolved to make sure that that never happens again.

Jungeun had chosen to sit on the patio, as it was nearing the end of August and the weather was just beginning to turn. You greet her with a friendly smile, saying hello as you pull out your chair and get comfortable. She welcomes you back with an equally kind smile, and you can tell that she is genuinely pleased to see you.

Once you’re settled, Jungeun actually seems eager to hop right into business. “I went sleuthing last night,” she starts, leaning her elbows onto the table between you two, “there’s nothing! He doesn’t have a single social media, not even a LinkedIn!”

You sigh, but it was pretty much what you had been expecting. After Mingi sent you the ambiguous text, you looked for his Instagram to find it gone; along with every other social media you knew that he had. You had tried emailing his school email, but there wasn’t a reply on that end. “Do you know anyone that has talked about seeing him since he left?” You ask Jungeun, before being interrupted by the waiter arriving to take your orders. 

After Jungeun orders nearly half the menu and a mimosa, she gets back to business. “No, but I haven’t really asked around ever. Maybe that’s how we should start?” She suggests, leaning back in her chair and folding her arms. You want to believe that the curious look in her eyes is proof of her determination to find Mingi, but you feel that it is probably more like the desire for her food. As you chuckle to yourself over this revelation, Jungeun starts asking questions about your personal life. Have you been searching for a job, do you live in the same apartment, those types of questions. You answer them all readily, happy to catch up, but your mind stays trained on Mingi.

Soon, the waiter returns with the meals that you two had ordered (Jungeun had gotten a salad, 4 pieces of French toast, and a pancake, while you had stuck with just the salad) and you two begin to eat. By now Jungeun has graciously downed two mimosas, and the alcohol seems to only be making her more eager. “Who do you think we should start with?” She asks, referring to your search. “Did Mingi really have any closer friends than you?”

“Not that I know of…” You trail off, trying hard to think of people that Mingi had mentioned to you. When Mingi had disappeared, you racked your mind trying to think of new people or places that Mingi had mentioned, but there was nothing. Now, trying to think of anyone Mingi had mentioned was even more difficult. You know that Mingi did have other friends, but you find it a little hard to believe that any of them would have been closer to him than you were; that he would have told any of them where he was going if he hadn’t told you. 

“What about Changbin?” Jungeun asks, shoveling a bite of French toast into her mouth at the same time. 

“Mmmm,” you start, doubting Changbin a bit. Changbin had been one of Mingi’s friends, but he wasn’t really a part of your circle. He was in the same year as Mingi, though, so maybe he would have an idea of any of Mingi’s friends that you hadn’t known about. “We can try him.”

Jungeun looks up to you as she starts working on her pancake. “Do you mind if I ask why you suddenly care so much about finding Mingi?” She puts a bite into her mouth, quickly chewing and swallowing. “I mean-- its just that, its been quite a while. Do you think we will really be able to find him?”

You look down at your salad, realizing that you had hardly touched it. You didn’t want to think about the possibility of not finding Mingi. It hurt too much, too deeply, to even fathom the possibility that Mingi is gone from your life forever. He had been such a great part of your college experience. Now, at this moment, you couldn’t believe that you had ever let him go so easily. Not that you had a say in the matter, but you could have tried harder to find him then. Now, it might be too late. 

“I feel terrible for ever stopping looking for him. I have to make that up to him.”

.・。.・゜✭ ⧖ ・.・ ⧖ ✫・゜・。.

After you two had finished your brunch and paid the tab, you made your way back to your car. You two had decided that she probably was not in her right mind to drive, so you would take over on that front. Once you reached the car, you both climbed in and got ready.

Jungeun still had Changbin’s number, thank God. You only hoped that he would still have the same number. Both of you turn slightly to face each other, while Jungeun presses ‘call’ on her phone and immediately sets it to speaker. She sets the phone on the center console, waiting for an answer. The first ring is agonizing. The second is even worse. After the third, you start to doubt that Changbin will answer. But, with the next ring, he does.

“Jungeun, what a nice surprise!” You hear Changbin on the other line, and you’re finally able to breathe. 

“Hi, Changbin,” Jungeun greets back in response, slightly rolling her eyes to you. Briefly, you wonder if there had ever been something between the two of them, but the thought is quickly shoved off by Jungeun bringing up the topic at hand. “Say, have you heard anything from Song Mingi lately?”

Changbin pauses on the other side of the line. It seems like time stays still, like you’re frozen in that spot for ages. Changbin takes his sweet time in responding, “I haven’t thought about that guy in a while!” He takes another pause, and you feel as though you could punch him through the phone screen. “Come to think of it, I haven’t heard anything from him since even before he dropped out. He had been giving me the cold shoulder because I told him I was going to ask out (y/n).” He chuckles.

A slight confusion overtakes you. Changbin had liked you? You had had no ide- “But I never ended up doing it because she so obviously was in love with Mingi. Seriously, the way she acted after Mingi left was almost creepy.”

You feel embarrassment start burning in your cheeks as you turn away from Jungeun. You hadn’t been in love with Mingi. That’s ridiculous. If you had been, you would’ve known, obviously. You hear Jungeun smack her forehead on the other side of the carn in disbelief. “You are on speaker, idiot, with (y/n).”

“Really?” Changbin sounds shocked. Now its his turn to be embarrassed, you figure. “How are you doing, (y/n)?” He tries to play it off smoothly.

“I’m great,” you start, “but I’m trying to find Mingi again.” You internally cringe at the thought of proving Changbin right. But you know that you hadn’t loved Mingi. At least, that’s what you were going to keep telling yourself.

“Uh huh, well, I’m sorry, but I really don’t know anything about it.”

“Do you know of anyone that might know anything? Or did he ever mention anything strange to you before he dropped out?” Jungeun asks for you, taking the conversation over again. She had always been more of the talker.

Changbin thought for a second (at least, you hope he’s thinking) before responding. “You could try the school, I think you have to give a forwarding address when you drop out. I’m really sorry, but that’s all I can give you.”

“That’s actually a good start, thanks Changbin.” Jungeun smiles at you, looking excited at the prospect of a new lead. You smiled back at her, giving a thumbs up. Jungeun quickly says your goodbyes, and hangs up the phone. 

“The school! I can’t believe neither of us thought of that, honestly.” She giggles, turning to grab her seatbelt and snap it in. You follow her actions. It is a bit odd that neither of you had had that grand idea. Maybe it had been too obvious to even think about. Either way, you put the car in drive and start toward the university campus.

.・。.・゜✭ ⧖ ・.・ ⧖ ✫・゜・。.

Once you arrived at the campus, which was not far away at all, you parked in front of the administration office. You figured that, if there was any information about Mingi, this is probably where it would be. Jungeun and you popped out of the car and cheerfully made you way back to the building that you had entered so many times before. Passing the benches in front of the building made you remember the time when you had lost your ID and had to sit outside while you waited for another to be made. Faithful as ever, Mingi had come immediately to you when you texted him about the situation. You two sat on the bench closest to the doors, wondering where you could have lost the ID. You couldn’t remember much else about that day, other than how pretty Mingi had looked in the sunlight. 

“What are we even supposed to say?” Jungeun pulls you out of your thoughts with her question. You hadn’t exactly thought about that one. Would the administrators even be able to give you personal information? The two of you stop in your tracks outside the door. 

“We could say I’m his sister?” You suggest, slightly shrugging your shoulders. 

“If you’re his sister then why would you not know where he is? Plus your ID has your real name on it.” Jungeun is quick to find the flaws in that little idea.

“I could start crying really loudly?”

“That one might work!”

You did not think it would. But it was still worth a shot. So the two of you finally pull open the doors and get inside of the building.

The administration office is the first room that you see inside, so its not difficult to find at all. Considering that it was the end of August, however; it was packed with new and old students, trying to tie up loose ends. You and Jungeun glance at each other, taking in the view of the packed room. At the door stands a take-a-number machine, so you solemnly take one and wait for your turn.

The process actually seems to be going rather quickly, so you only end up waiting for probably 20 minutes before your number is called by an open administrator. You and Jungeun eagerly walk up to the counter, ready to find any information about Mingi.

“Name, number, and business.” The administrator simply states, looking at the two of you with a very tired stare. 

“Uh, we actually aren’t students anymore,” Jungeun starts.

You finish for her. “But we have a question about a past student.”

The administrator simply continues staring at the two of you, looking incredibly exhausted. “Are you family or something?”

“Not exac-”

“I can only give personal information to the family.”

Jungeun looks at you, her eyes practically screaming at you that it is time to start crying. Psyching yourself up, you start thinking about how desperately you need to find Mingi. You recall the tears that had been brought to your eyes last night, and you are easily able to reconjur them. However, you don’t even get to go too far before the administrator sighs.

“Look kid, don’t start crying. I don’t even care. Who do you want to know about?”

“Song Mingi, he dropped out last ye-” Jungeun is cut off by the administrator holding a finger up at her as she types away at her computer.

“What do you want to know?”

“Well, is there any type of forwarding address or phone number?” You ask hopefully, waiting for her reply.

“There’s a couple phone numbers, you want ‘em?” The administrator never takes her eyes off the computer.

“Yes!” You exclaim, “Yes, yes please!”

“Whatever,” the administrator hits a button and then stands up and walks to the spot behind her, to a printer. You watch the paper, your ticket to Mingi, come out and eagerly reach your hand out. The administrator simply places it in your hands, rolling her eyes at yours and Jungeun’s ecstatic ‘thank yous’ as you quickly head out of the building. 

.・。.・゜✭ ⧖ ・.・ ⧖ ✫・゜・。.

Once you two are back into the seclusion of your car, you take your first peak at the sheet of paper. On the top, it declares itself to be the 'STUDENT PROFILE of SONG MINGI'. The first thing you see after the heading is Mingi’s ID photo. The sudden glimpse of him brings a frog to your throat, and you quickly bring your hand up to cover your mouth. Your eyes move about the picture, hungrily scanning it to commit it to memory. It was taken when his hair had been dyed red. He was smiling his signature bright smile at the camera, his eyes squinted with his cheeks. He looked genuinely happy. The sight is enough to make those tears from earlier spring back to your eyes, and you have to set the paper down. Your hand remains on your face as you choke down the sob trying to escape. The picture had been too much.

Jungeun gently takes the paper from your hands, and rests a hand on your shoulder. She tries to comfort you, telling you that this is good and that you will be able to find Mingi now. You try to calm down, knowing that what she is telling you is true, but the sudden reminder had been so difficult for you. Jungeun continues trying to calm you, and, after a few moments, the urge to cry has passed you. 

Jungeun, assured that you are feeling a bit better, looks at the paper that is now in her hands. You glance over it as well, trying to not look at the picture. You look down to the larger profile section, and, sure enough, there are two phone numbers listed. One is under “personal” and the other is under “emergency contact.” You had never memorized Mingi’s phone number, but you assumed that the personal number must be the one that you have, the one that went dead after he left. Looking closer, you see that, by the emergency contact, there is one simple word: mother.

Jungeun must spot it at the same time as you, because she speaks out almost as soon as you process what you are seeing, “Mingi’s mom! That’s perfect! She has to know how to reach him.”

You agree with her, slightly having to force a smile to your face. This is great news, but you can’t help but wonder if maybe even she doesn’t know where he is. What then? 

Jungeun is pulling her phone out and dialing the number before you can stop her. The phone only rings once this time, before being picked up by a middle-aged sounding woman. 

“Hello?” She answers, “Who is this?”

“Hello Mrs. Song, this is Kim Jungeun, one of Mingi’s friends from college.” Jungeun quickly answers and explains.

The tone of Mrs. Song’s voice immediately turns up, “Oh, how great to hear! Can I help you with something, dear?”

Jungeun tells her that you and her have been looking for a way to contact Mingi. Mrs. Song immediately perks up at the sound of your name, “(Y/n)? Wow, Mingi used to go on and on about her!” You can almost hear the smile in her tone. “But, to answer your question, I can quickly tell you his new number.” She then reads out a comforting string of 10 numbers. After they have been safely written down and affirmed, Jungeun asks one more question.

“Say, Mrs. Song, if you don’t mind my asking, where has Mingi been?”

“Oh, not a problem at all dear! Mingi actually has moved onto a commune. They grow their own food and sustain their own lives there! Its a rather intriguing idea.”

Jungeun shoots you a confused glance, and you return it. A commune? Mingi had never seemed like a manual-labor, escaping-capitalism kind of guy. It made you really wonder what had made him suddenly decide to drop everything and join a commune. You shrug it off, however, much too excited at the prospect of having a way to finally contact Mingi. Jungeun says your thanks to Mrs. Song and hangs up the phone. 

“A commune, huh?” Jungeun doesn’t seem to think that seems very in-character of Mingi, either. You shrug at her, too excited to really think about it at the moment. Mingi. You finally could reach him. Your earlier episode was long behind you, all you could feel now was blinding joy.

You did it. You found Mingi.

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THE ANSWER: I

Kim Hongjoong doesn’t like the word ‘cult.’ He prefers ‘sect.’

pairing: ateez x fem reader

genre: cult au, thriller, angst

check warnings on AO3

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chapter word count: 2,016

Opening shifts are always the worst.

For the most part, the entire shift consisted of cleaning, opening, and then waiting two hours for any actual customers to show up. Occasionally, an early riser would pop their head in to start their morning, but they only appeared every 45 minutes or so. Why the owner insisted the shop open every morning at 5:30 AM was beyond you, but you sometimes appreciated the time alone.

In order to open at 5:30, you had to be on the clock by 4:45; meaning that you had to leave by 4:30, and that you had to wake up by 4. The best part about morning shifts was that you got to awake with the world. The silence when you first rise is always soon replaced by the sounds of birds. The darkness turns to dawn, and dawn to morning. It's beautiful, really, but you would probably appreciate it more if you weren’t so tired.

The absolute emptiness of the shop did nothing to help your tired mind. The quiet hum of the machines and the boredom of waiting for customers that seemed like they would never come could just lull you back to sleep. One day, you’re sure that you will awake to find that you had been sleeping on your feet, finally overcome. 

Today will not be that day. You look up and around the coffee shop. You had been working at The Bean since college, and here you still were; four years and a bachelor's degree later. The field you had chosen had been pretty tight since you graduated, and you were still struggling to find a career-worthy job. The Bean would do until then. The owner liked you, your coworkers liked you, and it paid well enough to keep your apartment. 

The Bean was nothing special. Just a few small tables and some eclectic interior design. Why your boss still had a giant painting of an ass-naked lady hanging on the wall, you would never know. When he first bought that thing and brought it in to hang, you had thought he was joking. He was not. The windows at the front of the shop faced perfectly east, allowing the sun to shine directly onto her figure every morning for a few hours. You could only hope that the sun would fade the colors. While the painting wasn’t bad, it wasn’t the best sight to have to look at for the hours that your shifts would last.

The rest of the interior was rather unremarkable. A bookcase sat in one corner, holding some of the owners favorites. Occasionally, customers would slide out a book and read while enjoying their coffee, but it was becoming more rare. People rarely came into the shop to actually sit these days. On particularly slow mornings, you would allow yourself to choose one of the worn down and stained books to read a couple chapters out of. Unfortunately, the boss wasn’t too keen on seeing you stand around, not doing anything, so you saved it for when you had absolutely nothing to do.

Deciding that you should probably at least try and look busy, you turn around to face the multitude of coffee machines behind you. You check for what could possibly be the fiftieth time that each of them is running and hot; then you move onto the fridge to check the status of the cold brew that you had made earlier. Still there. You then came out to the front of the counter to check on the food display that you had also set up earlier. Everything still looked perfect, considering you hadn’t touched a thing. 

Right as you’re about to check and see if the garbage needs to be taken out (it wouldn’t), you hear it. The gentle ting ting ting of the bell atop the front door. A customer had finally come to put you out of your misery.

You walk back around to stand behind the counter, waiting for them to make their way to you. It's an older gentleman, maybe around 70. He looks to be dressed in his best, a nice set of suspenders clinging tightly to his chest over a blue button down. As he approaches, his footsteps are slow but steady, and very light. He hardly makes a sound.

Once he’s finally up to the counter, you notice the deep smiles lines by his eyes. He displays this very smile to you as he greets you good morning.

“Good morning to you too, sir,” you welcome, “what can I get started for you today?”

He continues smiling as he simply states that he would like one large coffee, for here.

“Great, your total is going to be $2.25,” you let him know, “and could I get a name for your order?”

“Mingi,” he simply states, preparing to swipe his card in the terminal.

Mingi. Now there was a name that you hadn’t heard in a while. You look up at the man, shocked at the reminder of your old friend. You watch him finish his transaction with great care, typing in his pin number delicately. The receipt printer beeps at you, alerting you to the completed transaction. You tear it off, handing it to Mingi before moving to prepare his drink.

Just a simple large coffee in a mug. Your Mingi would have hated that. He always had a pension for the sweeter side of things. In fact, you can even remember when he would come visit you at work, giving you something to do in the early mornings. He would always order some super complicated, obnoxious drink, only so that he could fill up five minutes of your morning. He would then proceed to drink it all while sitting at one of the tables, staring at the painting every time you had to help another customer. Whenever you were free, the two of you would joke around, talk, or do whatever to fill the time. 

The sound of the coffee maker snaps you back out of it. It had beeped to let you know that it was ready. You poured old Mingi his large black coffee into one of the mismatched mugs that The Bean used. Today, you were giving this man his coffee in a mug that jovially exclaimed “I survived Southern Florida!” Had your boss really visited southern Florida? Who knows. After handing Mingi his coffee, he went to sit down at one of the tables, with his back facing the painting.

The reminder of your Mingi made you smile. Mingi had really been a great friend in college. Though he was a year below you, you two made quick friends in one of your required history classes. Neither of you were the greatest, but you sat next to each other on the first day of the semester and immediately took a liking to each other. 

For as long as you knew him, Mingi had been one of the happiest, kindest guys you had ever had the pleasure of getting to know. He was genuinely a great person. After the history class you shared ended, you two started to hang out a lot more outside class. You never had a romantic relationship, no matter how many rumors flew about it. It simply wasn’t like that. You two got very close through the years, until Mingi had dropped out last year, during your senior year.

You never got to ask why he dropped out or where he was going. He was simply gone one day. It had really torn you up, you were sick with worry and nothing could have made you feel secure. After a few weeks, you had gotten a single text from him: Sorry to leave, I’ll miss you.

It really hurt, having probably your closest friend up and leave you like that. For months, even until after graduation, you had missed him. Time had made the pain fade, and, honestly, you had a lot of other things to worry about eventually. You had been curious as to what had happened to him, but it left to the back of your mind as all other thoughts of him had.

Looking out into the now semi-occupied coffee shop, you recall the memory of a very slow morning, not unlike this one. As usual, Mingi had come to visit you and order something that would take a few minutes off your hands. That morning, he had ordered something iced despite it being the dead of winter and freezing outside. As one could imagine, having a giant caffeinated beverage over the course of less than an hour had led Mingi to be quite hyper that morning. Meanwhile, you were still trying your best to not fall asleep.

In his attempt to simultaneously keep you awake and entertain you, Mingi had pulled you out from behind the bar and tried to get you to dance with him. Of course, you resisted at first. How could you dance in a coffee shop at 6 AM? But Mingi had insisted, resting his hands on your waist and guiding your hips to sway with the nonexistent music. Mingi was so tall, there was no way you could reach behind his neck, so you had settled with resting your hands just barely at the tops of his shoulders. 

And you two danced. In a coffee shop, in the dead of winter, at 6AM, to no music at all, you two danced. It was probably one of the best mornings that you and Mingi had had together. Had you not been interrupted by your boss, maybe it would have gone somewhere. Unfortunately, you never found out. 

You’re pulled out of your memories by the Mingi that occupied The Bean at that specific moment. He had risen and waved a hand to you, before steadily making his way back out the door. Watching Mingi go makes something rise in your chest. You feel tears prick at the corners of your eyes, suddenly hyper-aware of the pain of losing Mingi again. Quickly swiping at your eyes, you resolve to try your hardest to find Mingi after your shift. He had to be out there somewhere.

.・。.・゜✭ ⧖ ・.・ ⧖ ✫・゜・。. 

The rest of your shift had gone by even slower. The anticipation of waiting was suffocating. As soon as you’re in the back room and clocked out, you call one of your closest friends from school that you still talked to, Jungeun. 

Jungeun had been in your same major program with you, so you shared many of your classes. She was your closest female friend at the time, and is currently the best friend that you have. Because of your close relationship with Mingi, Jungeun had met him many times and you were sure that she had considered him a friend as well. She was nearly as concerned as you were when he went missing, but she had quickly become employed after graduation and Mingi had slipped her mind just as he slipped yours.

Jungeun picks up after only a couple rings. “Aye, whats up?”

You almost let out a laugh, her greetings were always so carefree. You two exchange pleasantries before you get to the point of the phone call.

“Say, Jungeun, you remember Mingi, right?”

She very quickly and enthusiastically ensures you that she remembers Mingi before asking why you’re wondering.

You explain the situation that you found yourself in at work, and Jungeun lets you know that she will definitely help you look for him.

“But, (y/n), are you sure?” She asks, sounding a bit concerned. “He did kind of just… leave. Like he didn’t want to be found.”

You think about it for barely a second. Yes, you’re sure. The tears that had come up earlier made you certain. You need to know what happened to him. 

Jungeun and you agree to meet up the next day, as neither of you have to work. As you walk out of the shop, you desperately hope that your combined brain power will be able to find him.

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a/n: hehe i am finally crossposting! i've been writing this fic for like. over a year on ao3 but i decided to start posting here as well! i promise that chapters get longer and much more intriguing pretty quickly hehe just bear w me!

pairing : Choi San x (f) reader

genre : angst , fluff (squint like really hard lol)

summary : all you needed was his love.

ib: pretty flower , @zurimochi

wc : 1.3k || warnings: mentions of blood and death

first, it started off with just a cough, you being the naive person you were, just assumed it was a seasonal cold and it would go away eventually; at least that's what you told yourself. but the vomiting started, that's when you began worrying. you weren't throwing up food or anything of that sort, but instead, it was flower petals. and that's when you found yourself at the public library, searching through multiple books, trying to figure out what was going on with you. then you saw it, what had been said to be your condition.

a few weeks passed and your coughing wasn't so bad as before, you were starting to believe that maybe it was just a seasonal cold and you were being a bit dramatic. that was until you found yourself throwing up again, but instead of petals, it was an entire flower; a rose at that, one of your favorite flowers. and the sizes would differentiate, they started off small and then became bigger as the time passed on. you swore you were able to feel a growing sensation inside your lungs; which was making it hard for you to breathe at times, the pain was just unbearable.

you were sitting in your living room, a glass of warm tea being held in your hands. your apartment wasn't too small or too big, which left you with enough comfortable room since sometimes you found yourself to be claustrophobic, but it always gave you enough space for all of your personal belongings and house decor. the ending credits for The princess and the frog played on your TV screen, you tended to watch Disney movies whenever you felt upset or if you were sick, they always made you smile and laugh, putting you in a better mood. reaching out your arm to grab your remote, that was sitting on the glass table in front of you and your sofa, so you were able to change the movie, you suddenly heard your doorbell ring and then a knock afterward.

sitting down your glass of tea on the table gently, you slid on your bedroom shoes, you didn't like the way the tile floor felt against your bare feet, you made your way over to the door. pushing yourself onto your tiptoes to look through the peephole, you did this out of caution. unlocking the deadbolt on the door, then the lock on the door handle, you twisted and pulled the knob opening up the door, to be greeted with a pleasant and sweet smile from your neighbor.

you didn't look quite presentable today, you honestly just planned on trying to relax most of the evening; if you even could, these symptoms you had were starting to become a horrid pain. you were still dressed in your night clothes, which honestly just happened to be a pair of shorts and usually an old tank top in the back of your closet. leaning against the door frame you returned the smile to your neighbor. "Hello, San. it's nice to see you again... I hope you enjoyed your tour, I heard about it on twitter and elsewhere." The man let out a chuckle, using his least dominant had to push his away from his face in a backward motion. "It's nice to be back and Thanks... I did enjoy it.. the fans were sweet as always" nodding in response to his little rant, you stepped aside from the door, with what was hopefully enough room for him to come through, given his much bigger body frame and height compared to yours. "Would you like to come In? I could make you something" "That would be great" San walked into the familiar apartment, making himself comfortable like he usually did, you didn't mind though.

you'd barely even made it to the kitchen section of your apartment before you felt the need to cough again, knowing trying to hold it in wouldn't be the best idea, so you let it out. this cough was harsher than the ones before and it hurt like hell, you held your hand to your mouth as you did so noticing this time there was blood, you were coughing up blood. panic began washing over you, making you totally forget that there wasn't just you in the home. having heard all the noise Choi found himself waking to where you were, worry filed his facial expressions when seeing the sight in front of him. you'd been laid out on the floor, there was some blood on your hand and what looked to be like small petals of a flower, Choi was confused about what was going on and he wasn't sure what to do. 

you weren't sure how long you'd been passed out exactly, but whenever you woke up you found yourself in a hospital room, looking around the room you saw your neighbor, sleeping on the small couch beside your hospital bed. he looked peaceful, making a small smile form on your lips. a knock was heard at the door, that was closed before it was being opened by; who you assumed was the doctor with test results since she was holding a clipboard to her chest. the woman gave you a smile before she spoke to you, in a soft and calming manner. "Hello, Miss l/n. I'm doctor Chavez, I'm here to talk about the condition you may have" you felt your heartbeat race, which appeared on the screen that kept track of your heart rate, the doctor thought; to calm you down and assure you, which lowered the racing of your heart, but not too much. "The symptoms you are having are the form of a rare disease, the Hanahaki disease.. is what it's called. It's when one is facing a one-sided love, and I believe miss l/n, that is happening to you." 

one-sided love, that's all that played throughout your head when the woman left, but you just didn't understand, who didn't love you the same way you loved them. then it clicked, it was San. you'd loved him for as long as you could remember even before he became a member of Ateez. you loved his smile when he would stay at your apartment for hours and binge-watch both his and your favorite shows together when he would sometimes bring you along with him on tour or to his performances but with all of that you couldn't help but feel sadness wash over you every time he introduced you as just a friend. maybe it was better off telling him, to let yourself free of any more pain to come. "Choi San.." his gaze turned onto you, he knew you only called his full name when something was important; like at this moment. his hand held onto yours, but out of concern and pity. "Yes sweet?" you always loved when he called you names like that, they made your heart warm. your eyes looked into his, yours filled with sadness and love. "i.. i love you Choi San, not as a neighbor, not because of your fame, and not as a friendship kinda love. and I've wanted nothing more than for you to love me in the same way I do you, but as I see it now that will never happen." Tears had already begun forming as your eyes never felt his. he opened his mouth to speak "y/n.. i.." you put your finger to you lips shushing him before you continued speaking. "I hope one day you realize how much I love you, but until that day comes.. ill wait, even if it may mean I'll never recover" those were the last words you told him that day, and the last words he'd ever hear from you again. as he watched your eyes close and a smile form on your face, the one that always made his day, tears swelled in his eyes and streamed down his cheeks, but he felt his own heart drop when he heard the flatline. you were gone, and all you needed was for him to love you.

reblogs are very appreciated <3

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