THE ANSWER: I

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

← previous || next → || masterlist

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.

← previous || next → || masterlist

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!

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.

← previous || next → || masterlist

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.

← previous || next → || masterlist

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: 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.”

← previous || next → || masterlist

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