THE ANSWER: X

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

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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: 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.

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a/n: hehe i am finally crossposting! i've been writing this fic for like. over a year on ao3 but i decided to start posting here as well! i promise that chapters get longer and much more intriguing pretty quickly hehe just bear w me!

THE ANSWER: XII

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

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Seonghwa’s explanation does nothing to help the anxiety now growing within you. You continue staring at his side profile as he makes his way toward the stairs at the end of the hall. 

The first time you had seen Seonghwa, he had honestly been too imposing and intimidating for you to really take in his features. From your angle in his arms, however, there’s not much else to take in. As much as you don’t want to admit it, he’s quite handsome. His side profile is strong in the way he holds his face, but soft in its features. You can almost imagine how beautiful he must look laughing, but your mind stops you. This man wants you dead. Why are you fantasizing about his smile?

You’re happy he doesn’t take his eyes off of his path, because you just know he would make some snide comment if he caught you staring. After your realization, you try and focus your eyes anywhere other than his face. Unfortunately, there isn’t that much to take in.

You are thankful to be out of that stifling room after probably over 12 hours, but, truly, these hallways could do with some decoration. If your boss was here… 

The walk through the halls continues in silence. For a moment, you debate trying to get Seonghwa to drop you. You probably could do it, but where would you go after? You couldn’t exactly escape him. He’d simply be able to snatch you again, and probably wouldn’t be as gentle with his grasp.

Plus, do you really want to put this off? You hadn’t really thought about it, but it makes sense that Hongjoong would want to talk to you. Away from everyone, after you’ve caught the drift. That’s not to say that you’re not nervous, because you are. With every step that Seonghwa takes closer to Hongjoong, the anxiety builds in your stomach.

What’s going to happen? Will he only speak to you? Threaten you again? Punish you for trying to run? While he’s not the most physically intimidating man you’ve ever met, you don’t doubt he could do some serious damage with a weapon. You remember the look in his eyes this morning in the chapel and it nearly makes you shudder. Hongjoong could definitely be creepy, and you wouldn’t put physical violence past him. 

“Seonghwa,” you start, your voice coming out quieter than you had wanted. “Can I use the bathroom first?”

It was the first thing that came to mind. You might not be able to escape, but at least you’d be able to stall a little bit. Despite just thinking to yourself that it would probably be better to not put it off, the anxiety building in your stomach is starting to tell you otherwise.

Seonghwa stops walking, turning his head to face you in his arms. Oh God, he looks mad. “Are you fucking serious?” His voice is much louder than yours, bouncing off the walls of the silent hallway. He’s staring at you with so much anger you could think you had just personally insulted his mother.

You quickly nod your head, just wanting him to stop looking at you. He rolls his eyes, letting out a sigh before veering down one of the corridors to the nearest bathroom. He sets you down in front of the door, but doesn’t let go of your arm.

“What do you need to do?” Seonghwa holds onto you, preventing you from reaching out for the door.

“Excuse me?” Your eyes go wide at his question. “That’s way too personal.”

He sighs. “You are so sensitive, my God.” He looks around the hallway like he’s expecting a live studio audience to agree with him. Seonghwa plasters a fake smile onto his face, glaring down at you. “Princess, how long is this going to take?”

You shake your arm in his grasp, “I’m not gonna answer that, just let me go.” 

Seonghwa’s smile falls, and he rolls his eyes once more. “Fine,” he drops your arm, “don’t keep Hongjoong waiting.” 

You barely hear the last part, because you’re opening the bathroom door and shuffling in as soon as he releases you. Quickly shutting and locking the door, the lights automatically turn on. Well what the hell do you do now? 

You catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror, and realize how ridiculous you look in your pajamas. God, no wonder Seonghwa was teasing you. You should’ve asked to change. You step closer to the mirror, trying to fix any aspects of your appearance that seem out of place. Thankfully, you actually look pretty decent, considering the circumstances. 

Pacing around the small bathroom for another couple minutes, you decide that you’re probably stretching your luck a bit. You quickly use the bathroom, wash your hands, and then open the door back to the hallway.

You do expect Seonghwa when you open the door, but you don’t expect him to be millimeters away from you, which is where he ends up being. He startles you and you stumble backwards into the bathroom, jumping away from him. He lets out a single, dry laugh at your reaction before gesturing you back to him with his fingers.

You oblige, stepping towards him and the door. His hand wraps around your upper arm again, and he pulls you back to the hallway. Thankfully, he doesn’t make any move to pick you up again. You don’t want to risk it, so you keep up his pace as he retains his grip on you. 

The two of you remain in silence, making your way down the stairs and through the subsequent halls. Once you’re to the bottom floor, entering the lobby, you wonder where you’ll be meeting Hongjoong. The cafeteria? The chapel? Some sort of spooky torture room you’ve yet to see? 

Your question is somewhat answered soon, as Seonghwa yanks you to the front door with him. When he opens the door, his grip becomes even tighter. It’s starting to make your arm throb, but you’d rather not show Seonghwa any signs of weakness. 

He pulls you outside, and you quickly try to take in your surroundings. It’s now night time, and you realize how dark it is on the grounds. The only sources of illumination are the couple sconces on the front of each building, but they provide very little light for the rest of the field. The moon is bright enough to keep you from stumbling over uneven ground, and you take a look up to recognize the phase. A waning gibbous. 

Looking back around, you recognize that your car is still nowhere to be found. You wonder when they could have possibly moved it without you realizing. During breakfast? That was the only time when you had been entirely distracted, with Mingi’s outburst and all. 

… Wait. Was Mingi…? 

No. Nope. You cut off the thought before it can even finish itself. There is absolutely no way. Mingi would never. Even if he’s been brainwashed and abused, he would never do something like that. But he had invited you here… Nope! No. You are not going to think about that right now. For now, you are perfectly content with your answer that Mingi would never knowingly put or keep you in danger.

Your question about your destination is answered rather quickly, as Seonghwa makes on the path toward the chapel. Ick. So far, the chapel is definitely the creepiest place you’ve seen, and you are not too keen on returning. The way Hongjoong acted this morning in there… you do not want a repeat of the show. Honestly, he seems almost like a different person when he’s in that building.

Not that he’s not creepy either way, he just gains a different aura. 

When you and Seonghwa reach the chapel, you nearly trip over the steps due to how fast Seonghwa is going up them. He clears them in milliseconds, acting like he’s seen water in a desert. You stumble up behind him as he uses his free hand to open one of the doors. He then shoves you in in front of him, finally letting go of you.

You bring your hand up to rub the spot on your arm where he had been gripping. You lift your arm a bit, frowning when you see the red mark left on your skin. Did he really have reason to think you would try and esca- actually, don’t answer that question. 

After taking in the damage, you remember where you are. You hear Seonghwa pulling the doors closed behind you as you survey the room again. It looks pretty much the same as this morning, except now there are quite a few candles lit. They reside on each end of every pew, creating a rather nice, soft glow.

Your eyes trail along the aisle of candles, following them to the back of the chapel. Hongjoong actually isn’t the first thing you notice.

Rather, it’s the hourglass. In the candle light, the metal attains a sort of other-worldly glow. Reflections of light dance on its surface, causing sparkles that keep you from staring in one place for too long. It’s mesmerizing. 

The only reason you look away is because of Seonghwa. He’s come to stand directly behind you, putting his hand on the small of your back. He not-so-gently pushes you down the aisle, towards where you now notice Hongjoong. 

He’s smiling again. Does he ever not have that creepy ass smile on his face? It makes him look so much more deranged, and you wonder if he does it on purpose. Of course, he’s sitting on the same throne from earlier, wearing the same weird matching outfit with Seonghwa. The candle light waving over his face gives him an almost sickly appearance, creating shadows and highlights where they shouldn’t be. 

Once Seonghwa has gotten you to the edge of the stage, he moves his hand to your shoulder. “Kneel.” 

Your gaze at Hongjoong breaks to look over at Seonghwa. Did he seriously just tell you to kneel? “I’m not kneeling you psych-'' you're cut off by a sharp shove on your shoulders. At the same time, Seonghwa brings his knee up to meet the back of yours, forcing your legs to give out under you. 

Your arms instinctively fly out to catch you, stopping the fall from hurting too badly. Now on your knees, you stare up at Seonghwa and vow to yourself that you’ll get him back for this, somehow, someday. You try to shove yourself off of the ground, but Seonghwa’s hands are quick to stop you. He moves behind you and grabs both of your shoulders, locking his arms to keep you down. 

On your knees in front of Hongjoong, you finally realize the vulnerability of your situation. Here you are, alone with two men that have individually threatened your life. Two men that have authority positions in a cult. You have no means of protecting yourself, and no one with any capacity to help you in the moment knows where you are. Anything could happen.

With Seonghwa behind you, you have no one to glare at except for Hongjoong himself. He sure seems to be enjoying the show, his cocky little smile having grown wider. His eyes flit up to Seonghwa and they have some sort of exchange outside of your realm of understanding. 

“Hi, (Y/n).” When Hongjoong looks back to you, he finally speaks. “Cute pajamas.” He glances over you, and you suddenly feel much too exposed.

You blink up at him. That’s how he’s going to start this? You don’t answer him, opting to continue glaring up at him. 

Hongjoong chuckles when he realizes you’re not going to respond and leans forward in his seat. “Well, I’m sure you have questions.” He turns his palms up to the air, waving them around a bit. “Ask away.”

Your plain expression breaks. You stop glaring at him and your confusion grows on your face. What the hell does he want you to ask him and why? About a million questions come to mind. They jumble over themselves, creating one large mess in your brain. You stare up at Hongjoong, your mind trying to grasp onto a single thread. Your biggest question is why, but you can’t very well just say that one word. Instead, you ask the next best thing.

“What do you want with me?”

Hongjoong leans back again, looking away to consider your question. He brings a hand up to rest under his chin, his face scrunching up as he answers. “That’s a pretty broad question.”

“Is Mingi okay?”

Now Hongjoong looks confused. “Why wouldn’t he be?” You honestly don’t know why you asked it either, and Hongjoong gives you no further answer after his follow up question. 

For a split second, you try to not ask your next question, but end up spitting it out anyways. “What the hell is going on here?” 

“Are you religious, (Y/n)?” Hongjoong raises his eyebrows, knitting his fingers together underneath his chin. His inflection is almost joking, but you can tell that his question is serious.

You think about your answer, trying to decide what will make Hongjoong react with the least hostility. Will he be offended if you say no? Will he be offended if you say yes? Truthfully, you’re not religious. Not that you have anything against sane religion, of course; religion is simply not something that has ever been a big part of your life. 

You decide to go with the truth. “I’m not.” 

Hongjoong smiles. “I don’t suppose you read any of The Answer?” He looks at you with anticipation, and you have a feeling he’ll like your answer regardless. This must’ve been the question he was waiting to ask.

“Of course not.”

Hongjoong nods, his smile growing. “I figured as much, it normally takes a bit of a push,” he waves a hand, pushing the air in front of him. “Since you seem particularly uninterested, let me give you the gist of it.” 

You can’t help your expression as it turns into one of disgust. The last thing on planet earth that you want right now is to have Hongjoong explain his little cult to you. As you’re about to open your mouth to give him a stern ‘no thank you,’ he starts speaking, stunning you into silence with just his first sentence.

“Cutting to the chase, I’m a prophet.” Your jaw goes slack as you stare up at him. No fucking way is he serious right now. “God speaks to me and I pass on his messages here.”

You can’t help it. You start laughing. As your body starts to shake with your laughter, Seonghwa’s grip on your shoulders increases. You hardly notice, however, too caught up in the hilarity of the situation in front of you. You bring a hand up to cover your mouth, trying to stifle the noises. “I’m sorry but,” a fit of giggles cuts you off. “But you’re joking, right?” Obviously, it does make sense to you. Not the prophet part, but Hongjoong claiming to be one. But it’s so funny to hear it said out loud. It almost makes you hysterical.

Instead of Hongjoong answering, Seonghwa does. “Does it look like he’s joking?” He has to raise his voice to be heard over you, and it almost is enough to make you stop laughing entirely. Almost. 

A few giggles continue to escape as you have to move your hands to your eyes to swipe tears of laughter away. At this point, they might be tears of hysteria, but you wouldn’t be able to tell the difference. You chance a glance up at Hongjoong, who is no longer smiling at you. Rather, he’s staring at you with a look of such plain indifference that you bite your lip to stop any further laughter.

“I don’t care whether you believe me or not,” he says, his expression unchanging, “but you will respect me.” For perhaps the first time, his voice is lacking the lilt of arrogance that you’ve come to associate with him. It’s plain and hard. He doesn’t make an attempt to charm you. “God commands it.”

The tone of his voice stops you from laughing again, though that last sentence nearly gets you. This man is off his rocker.

Despite wanting to give him a piece of your mind, you can’t think of a response. You are simply too dumbfounded by the level of insanity. Instead, you continue staring up at him, waiting for whatever he says next.

“I’ve been through this countless times, (Y/n), and every single one of you has come to praise my name.” Hongjoong continues staring with steely indifference. The tone of his voice growing only harder by the second. “I expect you to be no different. Whether it takes a week or a year, you’ll bend. They always do.”

His newest statement leaves you with even more questions. Is every single person here a kidnapping victim? Did everyone have a similar situation to the one that you are in right now? Christ, did Mingi go through this? 

It doesn’t even seem possible. It’s hard to imagine that every person you’ve seen, every person you met, was once a strong-minded, free-thinking individual. There must be personalities that have a predisposition to brainwashing. You refuse to believe that they were all in the same position as you. 

You have to decide now if you’re trying to survive, or if you’re trying to be a pain in Hongjoong’s side. If you make some snide comment now, you can’t imagine he will take it lightly. But, if you suddenly start acting entirely different, will he notice? Does he want you to disobey him? 

“Let me just get this straight then.” You can’t stop your curiosity. “You, Hongjoong, are a prophet.” You speak slowly and carefully, trying to not sound too offensive. “God speaks to you... and you made a cult out of these messages. You’ve kidnapped, what, forty, fifty people... and forced them to live on a farm and worship you.” So much for that plan. “Is that right?”

Hongjoong’s expression finally cracks. A smile casts along his face, evidently liking your reply. “That’s quite right, with two minor exceptions.” His smile only grows bigger. “We are a sect, not a cult. And we don’t kidnap people, we save them.”

“Plus,” Seonghwa pipes up behind you, “A lot of them come willingly.” His voice is low, but his grip on your shoulders loosens as you feel him bend down behind you. He brings his head down to nearly rest on your right shoulder, his face ghosting along the side of your head. You turn your head slightly toward him, your eyes darting over his face as he starts smiling. “Like our dear Mingi.”

He whispers it, but it’s certainly loud enough to hear. Seonghwa starts laughing as your eyes betray your shock. Hongjoong joins him, clearly enjoying your reaction as much as Seonghwa.

Well, guess that answers that question. But why in the ever loving fuck would Mingi come here willingly? What made him think that dropping everything and joining a cult was the only way to go? If he had gone willingly, why hadn’t he brought you with him?

Maybe he’s lying. No, he has to be lying. 

Their laughter dies down as your face becomes resolved. “You’re lying,” you whisper, staring at the ground. Whether you really believe what you’ve said or not, you don’t know. You just know that you can’t deal with Seonghwa and Hongjoong’s laughter ringing in your ears, bouncing off of the walls of the chapel. 

“What makes you think that?” Seonghwa asks from beside you, his face still next to yours. You peel your eyes off of the floor to look up at Hongjoong. He’s looking right back at you with exaggerated curiosity. His eyes are wide, his eyebrows raised, with just a hint of a smile. 

You don’t know how to answer Seonghwa’s question. You don’t even know if you truly disbelieve him. You quickly try to think of something that would disprove Seonghwa, searching the edges of your mind for something that would mean Mingi had been forced to join. “If Mingi came willingly,” you turn your face back toward Seonghwa, “he would have brought me, too.” 

You watch as a smile cracks along Seonghwa’s face once more. “Do we tell her?” He asks, looking up to Hongjoong. Your eyes snap up to Hongjoong, who is now trying to contain his smile for once. He’s not doing a very good job at it, either. 

Tell you what? Certainly something you don’t want to hear. What could there be, pertaining to Mingi’s disappearance, that you wouldn’t want to hear? You search for the answer for only a second. Just as your mind makes the deduction on its own, you see Hongjoong nod and hear Seonghwa’s reply.

“He was trying to get away from you.” 

You don’t really process the way that Hongjoong and Seonghwa start laughing again. Rather, your mind spins with the revelation. Of course, that would be the only thing that would make sense. If Mingi had come willingly and not brought you with, that must mean that he hadn’t wanted you to come. He didn’t want to have you with him. He didn’t want you. 

Why? What had you done? You’ve racked your mind for months, wondering why Mingi had left. Wondering why he hadn’t told you. Wondering what you could have done differently. You hadn’t been able to find a single explanation in the months past, and you can’t imagine that you’ll be able to find one now. You have absolutely no recollection of doing anything to Mingi that could have made him want to leave you. 

If Mingi had come here to get away from you, then does that make it your fault that he’s here, in the clutches of a cult? Does it make it your fault that you’re also in this situation? All the more reason you have to get him out of here.

But, then again, that begs the question. Would Mingi even want your help? Why had he invited you if he wanted to stay away from you? Is he actually happy to see you? Had he invited you because he felt ready for you to be in his life again? Or is this just some plot to recruit more members for Hongjoong? 

You want to believe that Seonghwa is lying to you, but, for whatever reason, you know that he’s not. That Mingi had some reason, even if it was so insignificant that you couldn’t remember it. There was no other explanation. He would have had no other reason to leave without telling you anything about it.

This realization almost sends you reeling, but the enormity of the situation before you keeps you somewhat in your right mind. You can’t afford to cry now, you can’t afford to lose your cool or even begin to comprehend what has just been revealed. At hand, the most important thing is to get out of this room before Hongjoong or Seonghwa causes you physical harm (or, at least, any more physical harm). The mental wound is enough. 

You need to get out of this place.

“Hongjoong,” you whisper, not taking your eyes off of the floor in front of you. You don’t want to see his face as he hears you beg. “Please, just let me go.” You feel wetness appear at your eyes for what feels like the upteenth time today, already knowing what his answer will be. So much for not crying again.

You blink and watch as a tear escapes your eye, falling to the floor. Without looking up, you see Seonghwa rise from your side. He stands before walking behind you, retaking his spot directly behind you. You hear Hongjoong stand, his shoes clicking down the stairs before you. In the silence of the room, the various medals hanging off of his jacket clink together and make sounds that seem impossibly loud. 

You don’t look up until his shoes appear in your line of sight, and he stops directly before you. Your angle on the floor makes him tower over you, blocking your entire line of sight until everything is him. The candles glow in your peripheral vision, making it seem like Hongjoong himself has a golden aura. The light reflecting off of the hourglass behind him has the same effect, and Hongjoong gains a halo above you. His face is cast in shadow, but you can still see the sneer plastered on his face. 

Hongjoong bends his knees before collapsing onto them in front of you. His face goes slack as he mirrors your position, folding his legs underneath himself before raising his hands up to you.

For a split second, you worry he’s going to grab your neck. Instead, he rests his hands on either side of your face, locking your head into position. His hands are burning hot, so hot you could swear he must have a fever. You instinctively try to jerk your face out of his hands, but he strengthens his grip and is able to keep you in place.

“Don’t cry.” Hongjoong coos to you as he wipes your tears with his thumbs, nearly identically to the way Mingi had only a day earlier. Has it really only been a day? More tears begin to brim over your eyes only to be immediately wiped by Hongjoong’s searing touch. “God is here for you.” 

You don’t know if he means metaphorically or literally, if he’s referring to himself or not. You can’t find it in you to formulate a response for him, instead opting to cry harder. Sobs begin to heave out of your chest and, to your horror, Hongjoong pulls your face closer to his. 

He angles your head downward, pressing a kiss to your forehead. His lips are just as hot as his hands, if not hotter. The sensation burns, and you’re quickly scrambling to pull away from him once more. He lets you pull away, but he doesn’t let you get far. Wiping your tears one last time, he lets go of your face and wraps his arms around your body, tugging you close to him. 

You process his heat before the fact that he’s hugging you. Wrapped in his arms, his warmth is nearly overwhelming. Anywhere he touches, your skin itches to retract away. But he’s hugging you. Hongjoong, a supposed Prophet, is crushing you to his chest. Hongjoong, cult leader extraordinaire, attempting to… comfort you. 

You continue to shake in his arms, mentally begging for the moment to be over. He’s so hot. Even in spots where there are layers of clothing, his touch is burning. Your face is pressed uncomfortably into his shoulder, his long hair tickling against your forehead. Your arms hang limp at your sides and Hongjoong squeezes you tighter, and you pray that he drops you soon. 

If there is a God, he must hear your prayers. Hongjoong releases his grip on you shortly after, retaking his place on his knees in front of you. He completely lets you go this time, and you revel in the feeling of the air touching your skin where his body had been. Your tears cease almost immediately; you’re not wanting to give Hongjoong another reason to get that close to you ever again. 

You paw at your cheeks to wipe away the remainder of any of your tears. Hongjoong grins, watching you intently as he rises back to his feet. You maintain eye contact with him and he resumes his position, until he breaks it to look back at Seonghwa. 

After a brief glance, Seonghwa’s hands leave your shoulders for the second time. Hongjoong reconnects your eyes before extending both of his hands to you. You blankly stare at his palms before realizing that he means for you to take them. 

As little as you want to touch him again, you decide you’d rather have Hongjoong gently help you up rather than have Seonghwa yank on you again. You lift your arms, placing your hands into his and starting to unfold your legs from beneath you. He gently lifts you, pulling up on your arms until you’re standing before him once more. 

He doesn’t let go of your hands. “Is there anything else you would like to discuss?” He’s not smiling, but he sounds genuine enough. 

The only question you can think to ask slips out. “What are you going to do to me?” Your voice cracks halfway through the sentence, making you sound more afraid than you feel. Honestly, fear is not the emotion at the forefront of your mind. Its sadness, betrayal.

Hongjoong chuckles. He brings your hands up so that they’re resting between the two of you, at about stomach height. He adjusts his fingers so that he can reach the backs of your hands with his thumbs, and rubs them as he had rubbed your face. “Wouldn’t a surprise be more fun?” His response is nothing you want. 

You shake your head, not able to stop yourself. Hongjoong’s smile grows wider as you pull your hands out of his, leaving his hands floating in the air, cradling something that no longer remains. The dancing light of the candles make his hands shrink and grow, and his picture before you is almost grotesque. He almost entirely blocks the hourglass from his position, but he still doesn’t block its reflected light. While he is in shadow, he glows.

“Seonghwa,” Hongjoong nods, using his hands to gesture you away.

Seonghwa’s grip returns on your upper arm, but you don’t look away from Hongjoong. Seonghwa yanks you around, but you turn to keep your eyes on Hongjoong. You feel too vulnerable, too exposed. He watches as Seonghwa pulls you toward the door, bringing a hand up to wave to you. 

“Goodnight, (Y/n),” he calls from the end of the room, “sleep well. You have a busy few days ahead of you.”

Seonghwa opens one of the doors as the two of you approach, and the cool night air blasts into the room. He pulls you outside, leaving the door to swing shut on its own behind you. You watch in slow motion as Hongjoong is blocked by the door, inch by inch. The door slams shut, but you can still see his afterimage on the white paint. 

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THE ANSWER: Do You Love Me?

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

← previous || next → || masterlist chapter word count: 2,676

"Do you love me?" 

It’s a difficult question, and yet it still should have a relatively simple answer.

Sitting on the edge of Hongjoong's bed, shirt unbuttoned and hair messy; Seonghwa waits for his answer.

Hongjoong's back is pressed against his headboard. Seonghwa can't see his incredulous stare, or the way his lips are slightly parted. Hongjoong is rarely pressed for words, but the question genuinely has caught him off guard.

"Why would you ask me that?" Hongjoong doesn't whisper his response. He says it as he does everything, dripping in charisma, but his question is also accusing. Hongjoong knows that Seonghwa is aware of his answer.

Seonghwa turns his head to look at Hongjoong's face. He merely scoffs when they make eye contact before returning his gaze to the wall in front of him. 

"You know I don't…" Hongjoong pauses, considering his words carefully for once. "You know that I don't have those emotions." He's being honest. Seonghwa knows that Hongjoong doesn't feel like everyone else does. Why Seonghwa would ask him such a ridiculous question perplexes him. He reaches out to touch Seonghwa anyway, trying to offer the comfort he knows he should.

Seonghwa shrugs off Hongjoong’s hands. He nods his head, his already messy hair flopping about with the movement. "Yeah. Right." His tone matches the accusatory tone Hongjoong had used earlier. 

He turns to face Hongjoong again. "How do you explain your little obsession with (Y/n), then?" Seonghwa practically spits the question at Hongjoong, not caring about repercussions or punishments. 

Hongjoong almost smiles. Almost. It's cute, the possessiveness that Seonghwa has over him. The little complex that's grown in his mind over the years. Hongjoong knows that he should have nipped it when it first started growing, but the idolization was too much to resist. It's a natural consequence of making yourself irresistible. When people hang off of every word you speak, they're bound to fall in love with you. They're bound to become jealous of anyone you pay attention to that isn’t themselves.

Still, he's not fond of the accusation. He's not obsessed with her. "How many times do we have to have this conversation, Seonghwa?" He asks, nearly raising his voice. "I'm not obsessed with her."

Seonghwa's eyes water. He quickly blinks away the tears, swallowing around the lump in his throat. Hongjoong is right, they have had this conversation too many times. Everytime, it ends the same. Hongjoong isn't obsessed. Because he says so. End of story. And Hongjoong lures Seonghwa into forgetting his unsatisfactory answers with soft kisses and sweet whispers. Not today.

"But you are. Clearly." 

Hongjoong sits up further in the bed in order to reach out and touch Seonghwa again. His hand lands on his forearm. Hongjoong gently tugs on him, urging him to climb further into bed. Hongjoong lightly smirks. "What brought this on? You know that you're the only one." He doesn't believe himself, but he knows that Seonghwa will. He always does. It's in his nature, an unwillingness to accept second place. An unwillingness to believe that he could come after another. Not that Hongjoong truly has favorites.

Seonghwa shakes Hongjoong's hand off of him, and Hongjoong's amused expression quickly fades. "I don't know that." Seonghwa has to fight the tears away again. "You could have let her go, you know." He whispers.

If he did cry, it wouldn't be like that would be his first time crying in front of Hongjoong. Hell, it wouldn't even be his first time crying in front of Hongjoong because of Hongjoong. He doesn't want to cry because he knows Hongjoong would like it. He wouldn't say anything, he wouldn't show any external signs, but Seonghwa would know. He does know. As much as he tries to look away, as much as he tries to ignore it and make up excuses, Seonghwa knows Hongjoong is sick.

Seonghwa knows that he's sick, too. He's hyper aware of this. He knows that he must be less disturbed than Hongjoong, at least. Seonghwa feels regret. He feels remorse. His stomach flips every time he remembers an atrocity he's committed on Hongjoong's behalf. He knows that Hongjoong's doesn't.

Hongjoong considers Seonghwa's words for precisely zero seconds before responding. "I could have let her go?” He scoffs, genuinely amused by Seonghwa’s reasoning. “She knew something was up the second she stepped foot in this place. We knew she would. She was never going to leave, Seonghwa.”

The two men sit in silence. For once, Hongjoong doesn't know what Seonghwa wants to hear. He can't conjure up the right words, can't think of a way to tilt his tongue into Seonghwa's forgiveness. 

Hongjoong has long been confused by the complexities of relationships. For the longest time, he had thought that things like love and fear had been invented for movies. That there were mere props meant to make stories more dramatic. He never knew that people actually felt things for or about each other until he was a teenager. When he met Seonghwa. 

Seonghwa quickly understood that there was something fundamentally wrong with Hongjoong. He tried his best to fill in Hongjoong's gaps, to teach him what he never knew, but it was a high task for a child. The damage had already been dealt. It seemed to Seonghwa like these feelings people have for each other must have to be taught in young childhood, or they’re lost forever. 

Seonghwa did help him learn. Yet, Hongjoong can not recall ever feeling something for someone. He's felt things at people and because of them, mainly anger, but never for someone. Hongjoong could never quite understand the things Seonghwa would describe to him. Why would you feel sad when someone else is sad? Why would you hurt when they hurt? How could you love another person, be willing to sacrifice for them? He never knew. 

Seonghwa had quickly become obsessed with Hongjoong. He needed to help him, needed to fix him. When he realized he couldn't, he only became more attached. Hongjoong thrived off of the attention. 

Though Hongjoong couldn't understand love, he knew from then on that receiving it was like a drug.

"Why did you kiss her?" Seonghwa's question breaks the silence. Seonghwa knows about Hongjoong's lack of understanding. Seonghwa has seen him kiss other people hundreds of times. But the way he had kissed (Y/n) was unlike those he had seen before. 

A certain hesitation, a certain question of consent. It showed care that Seonghwa hadn't known Hongjoong had. Had he ever kissed him like that? When Hongjoong kissed him, it was hungry. It was desperate. A means to an end. Hongjoong had kissed her for something else. It lacked the lustful desire and need that Seonghwa was used to. 

But it wasn't completely void of feeling, either. That's what upsets Seonghwa. When Hongjoong kisses others, they're typically empty. Something to sooth the receiver. Hongjoong himself gets nothing from it, and gives nothing to it besides his lips.

When he kissed her, he got something from it. That's what's bothering Seonghwa. That's what nearly made him break the ceremonial silence. 

Hongjoong lets out a dry laugh. "That's what this is about?" He asks. "Fuck Seonghwa, if you just got to the point imagine how much faster our conversations would be." Hongjoong finds himself annoyed with Seonghwa's question. He frequently kisses his followers, it's just something he does. Not everything he does needs to be overanalyzed by Seonghwa.

Hongjoong puts it to the back of his mind that he knows it was different. He doesn't understand why he felt so compelled to kiss her, and he doesn't want to think about it. Normally, he would reserve the kisses for the faithful, for the devoted. But the way she had sat so eagerly on her knees for him, how desperate her eyes looked… 

"Don't belittle me, Hongjoong." Seonghwa doesn't know what comes over him, but he's suddenly fuming. "You know it was different, and that scares you! Because it means I'm right and you're wrong! You are obsessed with her!"

Hongjoong is taken aback by Seonghwa's sudden hostility. "How dare you speak to me like that? Must I remind you who I am?" 

Seonghwa hardly let's him finish his question. "How dare I? Hongjoong, we have been inseparable since we were fourteen! I'm not talking to you as the founder of a religion right now! I’m speaking to you as a loved one when I say that your obsession with that girl could be dangerous!” 

“I am not obsessed with her!” Hongjoong is shouting now, throwing his hands out in front of him in explanation. “I don’t understand where you’re getting that idea from!”

Seonghwa laughs. “Where am I getting that idea from? I have eyes, Hongjoong. I can see the way you look at her, the way she gets under your skin, the way you desperately need to get under hers. I saw the way you kissed her and the way you nearly hesitated to complete her ceremony!”

Hongjoong is utterly bewildered. Seonghwa has gotten mad at him in the past, of course, but never like this. Never in such an irrevocable way. For a split second, Hongjoong doubts if he will stay at his side after this argument. But it’s only a passing thought, born of a brain used to abandonment. Seonghwa would never leave him, could never leave him.

Though Seonghwa has talked to him about the intricacies of relationships before, this whole argument makes no sense to Hongjoong anyways. Why is it Seonghwa’s problem if Hongjoong wants someone else? Not that he wants (Y/n), of course. The notion is absurd. Even if he did, why should Seonghwa care? What claim does he have? Seonghwa has to know by now that Hongjoong is not and will never be his. Hongjoong belongs to Hongjoong, and that’s that. 

And what’s this about hesitating? He has stabbed her, hadn’t he? Maybe it took a second longer because he had to fumble to find the knife, but, fuck, his eyes were closed! The fact that Seonghwa could genuinely believe that Hongjoong would hesitate… he doesn’t like it. It holds even more accusations and implications.

“I did not hesitate, Seonghwa.”

“You did. Everyone sitting at that table saw it.” Seonghwa has returned his voice to normal volume. He speaks his sentences as straight statements, devoid of emotion. “We all saw you jump when she put her hands on you. How gently you ran your hand down to her neck. How softly you pushed your lips together. And how you held the knife above her for seconds. That was hesitation.”

Hongjoong rolls his eyes. “You’re delusional. I didn’t hesitate, and might I remind you that I am not your boyfriend? Or maybe that I don’t experience romantic attraction?”

“Sexual attraction is still attraction.” Seonghwa brings his hand up to rub his forehead. This argument is bringing on a headache.

Hongjoong splays his hands out in front of him. “My God, Seonghwa, what do you want from me? To blind myself? To become celibate? What?” Seonghwa is being ridiculous. Every single time Hongjoong even looks at another person, he falls off the deep end.

“I want you to stay away from (Y/n).”

“No.” Hongjoong crosses his arms in front of him, very aware that he must look like a child in the midst of a temper tantrum. But if either of them are having a tantrum right now, it’s Seonghwa. Hongjoong still can’t quite grasp what the hullabaloo is about. Why is Seonghwa so pissed off about (Y/n) in particular? He’s shown interest in many people before, but Seonghwa has never reacted like this. Anyhow, no matter how Seonghwa feels, he doesn’t get a say anyways. He can’t control Hongjoong, he can’t give him orders. Hongjoong is the superior.

Seonghwa just shakes his head, turning his head to look up at the ceiling. Why can’t Hongjoong get it? Why did Seonghwa, of all people, get stuck being the one to teach Hongjoong everything about being a person? Seonghwa loves Hongjoong, but this was not what he signed up for. 

The jealousy stings in Seonghwa’s stomach. It burns. But there are other reasons to worry about Hongjoong having an obsession. It could quickly lead to favoritism, which could quickly lead to upset members. He could be swayed by her opinions and actions, and change himself to match her ideals. He could lose everything because of this stupid girl, and he just doesn’t understand it. 

Hongjoong watches on as Seonghwa starts buttoning his shirt. “What are you doing?” He asks gently, though he doesn’t feel gentle at all. He’s still pissed. But he doesn’t want Seonghwa to leave.

Seonghwa doesn’t answer, merely moves to stand up. Hongjoong quickly shoots his hand out, reaching to grab Seonghwa’s arm. He catches it, and, this time, Seonghwa doesn’t shake him off. “Hey, don’t leave.” Hongjoong honestly hates how little control he has over the situation. It makes him feel weak, watching Seonghwa not listen to him. Feeling weak makes him more angry.

Seonghwa stares at the hand on his forearm. For a split second, Seonghwa has an epiphany. Hongjoong is just a man. With five fingers on each hand. He counts them. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. His hand looks small and soft, gentle and kind. But the man it’s connected to doesn’t fit that vocabulary.

And yet, Seonghwa knows that he can’t leave. Not when Hongjoong sounds so vulnerable, and not when he’s so helplessly in love with him. His anger simmers so quickly, it feels as if it almost wasn’t there in the first place. Seonghwa’s gaze turns from Hongjoong’s hand to his face. He looks scared. It could almost fool Seonghwa into believing that he is. 

Hongjoong sees the change in Seonghwa’s eyes as soon as he decides to stay. A smile breaks across his face, and he knows that he’s won Seonghwa over. With just three words and a soft tone. How pathetically easy. Hongjoong’s stomach still threatens to boil over in anger, but the triumph does slightly help his nerves.

With a gentle tug, Seonghwa rejoins Hongjoong on the bed. Hongjoong helps him unbutton his shirt again, carefully and deliberately undoing each button. He slides the button up off of him as he finishes. He leans down and, as he’s about to press a kiss to Seonghwa’s stomach, Seonghwa grabs him by the chin, making him look up. “I’m still mad at you.” He doesn’t really mean it.

The feeling is mutual in Hongjoong’s eyes. Hongjoong was pissed before, but now the vulnerability of Seonghwa’s hand holding his chin up is making it worse. Instead of reacting, however, Hongjoong smiles. One of his teasing, fake smiles. Seonghwa can’t tell the difference. “You love me.”

“I do,” Seonghwa sighs. “Can we just hold each other tonight?”

Hongjoong could almost scoff. Cuddling. Another weird relationship thing that he could not understand. What’s the point? Wouldn’t a real couple just have makeup sex in this situation? But he presses a chaste kiss to Seonghwa’s chest and scootches back up his body anyways. One thing Hongjoong does understand is compromise. Though he’s not a big fan of it.

They slip under the covers together, anyway. Seonghwa wraps his right arm around Hongjoong’s shoulders, encouraging Hongjoong to rest on his chest. He obliges, pressing an ear flat onto Seonghwa and wrapping his right arm around his waist.

Hongjoong quickly dozes off, the argument having not affected him too deeply. He won, so it doesn’t matter. Though hearing Seonghwa’s heartbeat in his ear does, for a brief second, make him wish that it would stop. So he could be free of the standards Seonghwa holds him to.

Seonghwa doesn’t fall asleep so easily. Why had he just let Hongjoong get away with that? Why can’t he stand up to him better? Why does he have such a strong effect on him? Why does he feel the tiniest urge to strangle him in his sleep right now? Fucking hell.

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THE ANSWER: IX

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

← previous || next → || masterlist chapter word count: 4,085

You wake to the sound of the bell.

Your eyes pop open, and it takes you a second to remember where you are. The previous day quickly comes back to you. Mingi, the farm, San, Hongjoong, the Answer… You groan, sitting up in the bed and observing the room around you. It’s exactly as you remember it, though now it has a soft glow from the early morning sunlight streaming in through the window. Pulling the covers off of yourself and getting out of the bed, you try and figure out what time it is. There isn’t a clock in the room, but, judging from what was told to you about breakfast being at seven, it must be around six. 

You suppose that makes sense. You bend to rummage through your bag you left next to the bed, grabbing the outfit that you had packed for the day. Wanting to quickly get a start to your day so that you can have the most time with Mingi, you change and go through your morning routine quickly. When you head to the bathroom to brush your teeth, you surprisingly don’t run into anyone. Isn’t everyone else getting ready?

Once you’re finished, you start to hear more sounds of the living. Poking your head out, you notice that there are now plenty of people heading off of the floor. Since you’re ready to go, you fall into line with the crowd, prepared to follow them to the cafeteria.

Not that you’re one to be too concerned about what other people think of you, but you notice that you clearly stick out like a sore thumb in this group of people. Everyone is dressed similarly to yesterday, their casual work clothes looking pristine at the start of a new day. While you’re just wearing your everyday clothes, nothing too crazy, you still are obviously an outsider.

However, it seems that no one pays you any mind. Most of them are involved in their own little conversations, enjoying each other’s company. You’re left alone with your thoughts, that is, until you make it to the men’s floor. Once your group conjoins with the numerous men that are making their way down the stairs, you catch sight of a familiar face. If you could call someone you’ve said maybe five words to ‘familiar.’ 

Fortunately for you, he spots you as well, stopping and waiting for you to fall in line next to him. Yunho is just as giant as last night, which is even more apparent as he’s surrounded by crowds of normal sized people. He smiles down at you, asking how you’re doing this morning as the two of you continue to follow the crowd.

“I’m great,” is your automatic response. You give him a smile back as you wonder if you really are ‘great.’ Probably more like ‘okay.’ Honestly, you’re kind of ready to get out of there.

As you two continue, you try to look around for Mingi.  Yunho must take notice of your glances. “Mingi helps out with service in the morning, so he’s not gonna be around.”

Service? What service? You think back to yesterday… had anyone mentioned something about a service? At dinner, San did mention that there are activities before breakfast… which must be what Yunho is talking about. By now, you are to the ground floor and take notice of the fact that people are leaving out the front door.

Your eyebrows scrunch in confusion, and you look up to Yunho for clarification as you step over the threshold. “We go to the chapel for service.” He explains, giving you a big smile while sticking his left hand out to point at the one large building you hadn’t toured yesterday.

Yunho’s explanation does not do much to ease your confusion. It really only adds to the growing cloud of dread hanging over your head. Uh-huh. The chapel. Right, well, this is definitely getting much weirder now. 

You follow the crowd across the opening and approach the building. Honestly, it doesn’t look too different from anything else around. From the front, it almost looks like a small home, besides the fact that it has double-doors. It has plain white siding and two windows, and it’s raised on a small foundation, with a porch attached in the front. You notice that there are a couple steps leading up to meet the porch that look very weathered. As you get closer, you find that, sure enough, Mingi is standing on the porch, holding the left door open with his body. 

Stepping up the two steps to the porch, Mingi gives you a big smile. “(Y/n)! Yunho! Good morning! Welcome.” He waves a hand to you guys before moving his attention to those behind you. As you step inside the chapel, you are honestly astonished by what you can see.

Like any other church, there’s quite a few rows of pews on either side of the room. The floor goes back probably 30 feet from the door, and there’s probably about 15 pews on each side. The ceilings are rather high, maybe 12 feet, with an exposed roof. At the back of the chapel, the floor raises a couple feet in a half-circle fashion and becomes what you can assume is a stage. The stage and the stairs leading up to it are covered in a red velvet carpet.

Two things are what really catch your attention, however. One, the giant hourglass symbol hanging on the back wall, behind the stage. It must be over ten feet tall, made out of a shining silver material. This one is more intricate than the smaller examples you’ve seen; the top and bottom parallel lines are much thicker than the crossed inner lines. It’s giant and imposing, creating an image in your mind that you’re unlikely to ever forget.

The second item is, perhaps, more disturbing. On the stage, only a few feet in front of the hourglass, is a chair. Chair… is not the right word. Throne is more accurate. It’s high-backed, standing quite tall. The frame is silver, and looks to be ornate, but you can’t exactly make out the details from the entrance of the chapel. The cushioning is black, and looks, quite honestly, pretty comfortable. 

As you take in the scene, you genuinely cannot stop your jaw from dropping. Things had gone from bad to terrible in a matter of minutes. What the fuck is going on here? 

Yunho gently puts a hand on your back, urging you forward. You hadn’t realized it, but you were most definitely holding up the crowd of people behind you. Amazed, all you can really do is follow his guiding hand as you two walk further inside. There’s already a considerable amount of people inside, and so you two are the final additions to one of the rows. Your seat is right on the edge, next to the aisle. You’re on the left side, probably ten or so feet from the stage. 

From your new position, you try to take in more of the chapel. From a closer vantage point, you can tell that the throne definitely has some sort of carvings in the frame, but still can’t exactly pinpoint what they ar- “Are you okay?”

To your left, Yunho looks at you with concern. It takes you a second to process what he means. Of course you’re not okay, does he not see what’s going on right now? That you’re in a small church on a farm in the middle of nowhere surrounded by symbols you’ve never seen and stories you’ve never heard? Why in the absolute fuck would you be okay? 

You stare up at him, the utter amazement still obvious on your face. Seriously, what kind of question was that? Then you remember what’s happening right now. Everyone in this building is used to this. They all would think you’re the weird one right now. You try to fix your face and answer Yunho, but you find it quite difficult. At least you manage to get your jaw to cooperate, finally closing it after being slack-jawed for who knows how long. You simply nod to him, swallowing hard and hoping he doesn’t care to investigate further. 

Looking away from him and trying to find something to distract yourself with, your eyes fall to the pew in front of you. Or, rather, the shelf on the back of it. Sticking out, every foot or so, is the top of a black book. You silently pray to yourself that it’s just a normal Bible, reaching your hand out to grab the top of one. When you see the front, unfortunately, you can feel the blood draining from your face.

Gripping it in two hands, you examine the front. In shining, silver-embossed letters, it says: 

THE ANSWER

Underneath the title, the symbol of the hourglass is prominently displayed, also embossed in silver. In normal circumstances, you might think it looks like an interesting novel. Under these, however, it only serves to exponentially increase your dread. You feel your pulse speed up, gripping the book entirely too tight between your hands. 

You raise your head up slowly, attempting to not gain any attention. You look around, desperately trying to think of some way to get out of this. Literally what is stopping you from just getting up and leaving? There are still people pouring in the doors, surely no one would notice that you’ve left, right? 

Just as you’re about to stand up, you feel a hand on top of yours. You whip your head back forward, looking down to your lap where the book is being squeezed by your hands. For a moment, you wonder whose hand could possibly be on top of yours. The world feels like its getting smaller and bigger at the same time, and your vision starts to blur around the edges. What’s happening?

You follow the hand to its owner, looking to your left once again to see Yunho. He looks more concerned than last time, his eyes big with a slight pout to his lips. He blinks at you, like he’s expecting an answer. Had he said something?

“Sorry, what?” You hear yourself say, but it sounds far away.

Yunho continues to stare at you, looking a little dumbfounded. “I said, ‘are you alright,’ but that answers my question for me.” 

He pulls his hand off yours, and his voice kind of snaps you back into reality. Like you had been stretching a rubber band in your mind, you suddenly fly back into the present. You look to your hands, and notice that you’re still holding the book, though, it’s more like you’re choking the book. It’s squeezed between your hands so tightly that your forearms are shaking, and your fingers have gone white. Quickly, you release the book. It falls onto your lap and then bounces onto the floor between your feet. 

Looking back at Yunho, he’s now staring at the book on the ground. He quickly bends to pick it up, brushing it off once it’s in his hands. You find yourself whispering an apology to him. You have no idea what had just come over you, but it’s freaking you out.

He just smiles at you, shaking his head and pushing the book back into the little shelf in front of you. He brings a hand up to pat you on the back a couple times, in what must be an attempt to calm you down. Can he tell that you’re totally freaking out? Probably. He seems like that kind of person. 

Behind you, you hear the door’s close. The room is submerged into darkness, with only the two windows in the front letting any light in. As you turn to look at the doors, you notice that every single person in the room has lowered their head. 

Time feels like it moves in slow motion. You can’t stop yourself from looking, despite figuring out that you’re not supposed to. Looking over your shoulder, you make eye contact with Hongjoong. He’s walking down the aisle of the chapel, each of his footsteps ringing impossibly loud in your head. You can’t move, his gaze pinning you to your spot. You want to look away, but he’s hypnotizing. He smiles at you, but there’s absolutely no warmth in his eyes. As he passes you, he puts a hand on your shoulder. It feels repulsive. 

Before you can jerk away from him, he’s already gone. You can still feel his touch, the lingering feeling of his palm leaving a burning sensation on your skin. Once he’s past you, time feels like it returns to normal. You’re suddenly aware of how shallowly you had been breathing, and you suck in a deep breath to try and comfort yourself. 

Hongjoong continues on, stepping up onto the stage. He quickly turns, positioning himself in front of the chair, before letting himself flop into it. He rests his right elbow on the armrest, bringing his hand up to cup his face. He surveys the room, making eye contact with you once more. “Good morning.”

“Good morning.” The crowd answers him, their heads still hanging low in front of him. He smirks at you, “Rise.” 

The heads obey his command. With everyone sitting up again, he takes his eyes off of you, looking around once more. You look around as well, trying to discern if this is actually happening or not. Every person you lay eyes on is staring up at Hongjoong, with adoration plain on their faces. For a brief second, you think you should try and find Mingi, before thinking better of it. You know that he’ll be emulating everyone else, and that might just be the last of what you can take.

Begrudgingly, you turn back toward the front. You don’t want to look at Hongjoong, but he commands attention from his spot on the stage. Today, he’s wearing a much different outfit. Similar to the one that Seonghwa had worn yesterday, he’s dressed almost like a military official in formal uniform. He’s decorated in medals, pins, and brooches, and his jacket alone looks like it must weigh ten pounds. He looks simultaneously bored yet amused, spread out in his chair.

The air in the room is stifling. Everyone waits for Hongjoong, clinging onto his every breath. He looks back to you, giving you a half-smile, raising his eyebrows as if to ask what you think. With a nauseating jolt in your stomach, you realize that he enjoys this. You try to mask your expression, but quickly realize that its no use. You’re scared. And he knows it already. 

After what feels like an eternity, he finally starts speaking. “Everyone, it is a good day.” He breaks his stare and glances around once more. “It’s a good day for so many reasons. First of all, God has given us peace on our farm, which we are always grateful for. Second of all,” he points to you with his free hand, “we have a newcomer. What a special day for her. You never forget your first service!” 

He pauses for a moment before starting again, his tone more serious. “Third, I received a message last night. Our Minho has been claimed, so I would like to congratulate him on that. His ceremony will take place tomorrow.”

There’s quite a few gasps in the room. A few people clap, and one man immediately bursts into tears. You figure that he must be Minho, judging from the reactions of the people around him. He’s staring at Hongjoong like he just told him he won the lottery, his eyes glistening with tears of joy. While you’re left to wonder what the hell being claimed means, everyone’s attention returns to Hongjoong when he clears his throat.

“Of course, there are other reasons this is a wonderful day, but there is not enough time in the world to thank God for every small miracle.” He waves a hand, dismissing the notion. “Anyhow, today, I want you all to hold the Answer close, and know that I am always a part of you. Time is a circle, and we are all one. If anything troubles you, come to me. I never want any of you to suffer without knowledge, without comfort. I will guide you, always.”

You wonder if this can possibly be the end of it. It seems like you’ve been in this chapel for twenty minutes, but also twenty years. Then again, he hasn’t talked enough for this to be like any religious service you’ve ever been to.

But he stands, and with him, so does everyone else (well, everyone except you, but you stand after a couple seconds). He strolls off the stage and down the aisle, throwing the doors open once he reaches them. Light pours into the chapel once more, and those open doors become the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen. Freedom. 

Once he’s out the door, people start following, trickling out of their pews and out the doors. You step out of your pew, following the other people back outside. The brightness of the early morning sun takes your eyes a few seconds to adjust to, the light suddenly blinding. You bring a hand up to shield your eyes, before quickly recognizing Mingi, standing off to the side of the crowd. 

When he sees you, he waves, calling out your name and ushering you toward him. Once you reach his side, he turns and continues on with the crowd, standing at your side. He asks how you are this morning, and you have no idea how to respond.

You are absolutely not okay. You are terrified, confused, and honestly pretty disturbed. For a second, you’re angry. The only reason you came to this farm in the first place was because of Mingi. He is the reason that you are in this situation right now. Why the hell would he have put this on you? Does he genuinely believe this crap? 

But you quickly bring yourself back to reality. You came here on your own free will. You had thought about it for a while before agreeing. Hell, you were the one that reached out to Mingi. If there was anyone to blame, it was yourself. 

As you two walk back into the main building and toward the cafeteria, you realize that Mingi is still waiting for his answer. “I’m alright,” you sigh.

“Did you sleep alright? You look a bit tired.”

“Yeah, I slept fine.” 

You feel a little bad for your curt answers, but you’re much more preoccupied with figuring out how to get out of here. When you walked by, you noticed that your car was still in front of the building, meaning you should be able to simply… leave. How you’re going to do it unnoticed is the problem.

You can’t just leave without saying goodbye to Mingi, but you also have to get away before any of the creepy people here figure out what you’re doing. You have a feeling that Hongjoong and Seonghwa wouldn’t take too lightly to finding out that you’re going. 

But damn, that might be a bit difficult. Those two seem to be everywhere and nowhere at the same time. As you and Mingi enter the cafeteria and enter the line, you notice that the aforementioned men are already sitting together and eating at one of the tables. 

Going through the line, you just take whatever. You don’t plan on eating anyway. As you and Mingi try to find a table, he spots San and Yunho at their own table and moves to join them. How Yunho had gotten to the cafeteria before you, you have no idea, but you follow Mingi to their table. You take a seat to Mingi’s left, leaving the seat beside you empty. 

As the three boys launch into some discussion about the fields, you think about leaving again. You shouldn’t have to make up an excuse, because you had planned on leaving today anyways. That makes things a little bit less suspicious, right? 

But, oh God, confrontation. What if someone asks why you’re already leaving? What if Mingi asks you to stay? What if someone else asks you to stay? What if you leave and then no one believes you about what happened?

You have to go to the police, right? Like, this is weird enough to warrant an investigation, right? Or would they just be useless because you technically haven’t seen anything criminal go down? That honestly seems like the most likely answer. But you know. You have this terrible gut feeling that something is going on here, something completely wrong. 

And then an entirely new concern rises to the forefront of your mind. How can you leave Mingi here, alone? What if this place is dangerous, like you think, and something happens to him? What if he gets hurt and you’re not there? How could you leave him behind? The answer is that you can’t. You can’t leave him.

But you also know that he won’t leave. And how could you ever make him make that decision? You or his adopted family? He clearly loves the people here, and loves his life here.It would be cruel to ask him. It would hurt you to make him upset by even suggesting that this place might not be good for him. Also, do you really want to know which he would pick? 

 You have to leave him in order to save him. As much as it breaks your heart, its true. He won’t ever leave on his own volition, and you feel like something terrible would happen to him if he tried.

You resolve to leave during lunch. That way, hopefully no one would follow you. Hopefully they would just let you leave. You don’t want to picture Mingi’s reaction, his face when you say that you’re leaving. 

You’re startled out of your thoughts by a hand on your shoulder. It lands on your left shoulder, and your immediate instinct is to jump away from the touch. It’s hot. You quickly whip your head to your left only to see none other than Hongjoong himself taking the once empty seat next to you. 

He keeps his hand on your shoulder, even gripping it a little. He clearly can tell you’re uncomfortable, and the smile on his face is nearly masochistic. “(Y/n),” he speaks, “aren’t you sad to be leaving today?” 

Your eyes widen. Why would he bring that u- “You’ve hardly gotten to spend any time with Mingi.” He cuts off your thoughts, pouting his bottom lip out in a mock-sad gesture. It makes you want to hit him. 

You spit out the first answer that comes to mind. “Well, I have a job… and stuff.”

Hongjoong nods, feigning understanding. “I’m sure Mingi will miss you, though. You should come back soon.” He looks over your shoulder to Mingi, and you glance back at him too. You wish you hadn’t when you see the expression on his face. He looks devastated at the thought. 

You turn back to face Hongjoong and merely nod a bit. Yeah, you’ll be back soon alright. With the police. 

Just when you think things couldn’t get weirder, Hongjoong leans his body toward yours. He brings his face within inches of yours, staring into your eyes. From this close, you can really admire his features- not that you would want to, of course. Objectively, though, he’s very handsome. Instinctively, your eyes flit to his lips; his full, pretty, pink lips. 

Immediately, you really wish they hadn’t. He clearly notices your glance, a playful smile growing on his face. You try to lean back to make some distance between the two of you, but you merely hit Mingi’s shoulder and are blocked. Hongjoong leans back in, once again leaving a few inches between your faces.

“(Y/n),” he whispers, dragging his eyes around your face. “You could be very happy here.” He moves his head to the side of yours, positioning his lips close enough to your ear to brush against it when he speaks next. 

Breathily, and quieter than ever, so quiet that you can barely hear him, he whispers, “I’ll kill you if I have to,” he takes a breath in, “but that wouldn’t be as much fun.”

With that, he pulls away, standing up and squeezing your shoulder once more before leaving.

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Billionaire Mark Cuban Opens Online Pharmacy To Provide Affordable Generic Drugs

The company was launched out of stealth last year.

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

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

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

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