The One (C.S)

The One (C.S)

Final part of the Subtle Variations of Heartbreak series

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

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

wc: almost 25k

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

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

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

Keep reading

THE ANSWER: IV

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

← previous || next → || masterlist chapter word count: 2,076

You let the thought simmer in your mind for a few days.

You and Mingi continued to talk and catch up, and he seemed to be getting more relaxed and like himself as time went on. Its been about two days since you got into contact. Now, its Tuesday night. Mingi is urging you to come visit on Saturday. He keeps telling you how badly he wants to see you in person and, if you’re being honest with yourself, you desperately want to see him, too. It had been so long, and you could probably kill for one of his hugs.

That’s how he used to always greet you, with a hug. His signature style was the pick-up-spin. He’d tightly wrap his arms around the lower part of your waist and hoist you up, spinning the both of you until you were dizzy. Then he’d set you down and give you that big smile, his eyes shrinking as his smile grew larger and larger. Sometimes, he’d leave his hands on your waist and you would simply stand there, admiring the feeling. Thinking back, you wonder why you had never appreciated the greetings more. 

Anyhow, you still have your reservations about visiting Mingi. Sure, you have the weekend off and it wouldn’t be a big deal to go. However, you have to take into account the fact that you are a single woman, and it probably wouldn’t be that hard to kidnap you. Then again, you find it very hard to believe that Mingi would ever willingly put you in danger. If he thought that you would get hurt, there is no way he would be inviting you. 

.・。.・゜✭ ⧖ ・.・ ⧖ ✫・゜・。.

While you’re at work later that day, you still are laboring over your decision. You even find yourself about to ask your boss; but he seems busy, as he had bought another painting to hang up. Though this painting he had purchased was not another ass naked lady, it wasn’t really a step above her. It was an ass naked man. Your boss had happily proclaimed ‘we have an Adam for Eve’ when he showed it to you when you arrived for your shift. Great. Just what you wanted. Another nude portrait to stare at for hours at work. 

You try to at least look busy, despite your mind being occupied and there being absolutely no customers in the shop. You’re about to make sure that the coffee makers are hot for the tenth time today, until you hear your phone ding from your back pocket. Looking up to make sure your boss is still preoccupied with ‘Adam,’ you quickly pull your phone out to see the message.

To your surprise (and mild disappointment) its Jungeun. Apparently she’s got a group of friends from school to agree to hang out tonight, and is wondering if you’ll join. You think about it for a second. Do you really want to go out drinking on a Tuesday night? When Mingi was on the forefront of your mind? You would probably end up embarrassing yourself, but you decide that you should go. Plus, then you can tell them all about your dilemma. For a second, you wonder who all will be there, but decide against asking. You really shouldn’t be on your phone in front of your boss.

“(Y/n), come over here and let me know if Adam looks crooked,” your boss says unnecessarily loud, beckoning to you from behind the corner. You sigh as you move out to join him on the floor. At least you have something to look forward to tonight.

.・。.・゜✭ ⧖ ・.・ ⧖ ✫・゜・。.

The place that the group of friends had decided on was one that had been popular amongst you all when you were in school. The bar is technically named ‘Wonderland,’ but had been affectionately nicknamed ‘Dirt’ by students long before yourself. The nickname was given because the place was ‘dirt’ cheap, a necessity for any university student.

When you arrive at Dirt, you sit in your car for a moment. Do you really want to go in? Really? Wouldn’t it be better to just go home and seriously think about visiting Mingi? Shaking your head to clear your thoughts, you remind yourself that you deserve this. Your whole life didn’t need to revolve around Mingi… right?

Grabbing your bag from the passenger’s seat, you open your door and step out of the car. You’re immediately greeted by the loud din coming from the inside of the bar, but its almost a comforting sound.  The cool, nearly-autumn air soothes some of your nerves. When was the last time you had gone out? It had to have been before graduation-- before Mingi left. 

You walk into the bar, stepping over the threshold and taking in the familiar sights. The long, wooden bar that ran from end to end on the left side of the room; the circular tables with mismatched chairs; and the walls plastered in pictures of patrons past. As soon as you glance to the ‘Wall of Fame,’ you can’t help but walk over to it. The ‘Wall of Fame’ was devoted to every and any one that was able to finish the signature ‘Wonderland Meal.’ The meal consisted of a quadruple cheeseburger, 12 chicken wings, a serving of tater tots, and a literal half gallon of Corona. Since you had visited last, there clearly had been more winners. New students that you didn’t recognize peppered the walls, mostly uninteresting frat boys, but you knew what you were looking for. Now surrounded by a cluster of others, was the photo Mingi had had taken of him when he completed the challenge. 

He had insisted on you being in the picture with him. His arm was flung over your shoulders, holding you close to him. You were looking up at him, holding a hand up and trying to hide your face from the camera while he was smiling radiantly at it. The flash had been on, and the background surrounding the two of you hadn’t developed in the picture. It looked like the two of you were completely alone, with only each other in a black abyss. Mingi looked so happy.

And he had been happy, until the next day. He was so sick that he couldn’t even get himself out of bed. Fulfilling your duties as his best friend, you hadn’t gone to any of your classes that day so that you could take care of him. He moaned and groaned the entire day, whining about how you could have let him do this to himself. You consistently reminded him that you had told him it would be a terrible idea, and how he had ignored your advice. He still blamed it on you, though. 

“Hey, (Y/n), you in there?” 

You’re immediately pulled out of the memory by the feeling of a hand on your shoulder. You turn to face the owner, and find Jungeun standing at your side. “I called your name, like, three times. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine!” You assure her, trying your hardest to put a genuine smile on your face. It doesn’t work very well. “Is everyone here yet?”

Jungeun removes her hand from your shoulder to gesture over to one of the tables behind you. Sure enough, its full with a few others that you had known from school. Changbin, of course, along with Haseul, Juyeon, and Soojin. You can’t help but feel the usual ache in your stomach when you comprehend Mingi’s absence. Changbin is the first to notice that you’ve turned around, and he waves at you happily. The others quickly take notice and start to wave you over. 

Blushing, you make your way over to the table with Jungeun in tow. You two take the only two empty spots at the table. Once the awkwardness of your semi-late arrival passes, the evening takes off.

.・。.・゜✭ ⧖ ・.・ ⧖ ✫・゜・。.

“Wait, (Y/n), tell them about the Mingi situation,” Jungeun giggles, leaning back in her chair so hard that it almost tips over. 

Everyone at the table bursts out laughing in response that you almost forget what she had said by the time everyone cools down. Your cheeks hurt from smiling, and the pleasant warmth coursing through your body does nothing to stop you from blurting it out.

“Well, remember Song Mingi?” You ask, bringing your glass up to take a sip as the group watches you. “How he dropped out? Apparently he joined a commune,” you cut yourself off with a laugh. A commune! Everyone joins you in your laughter.

“A commune? Who joins a commune in 2021?” Haseul manages to choke out, laughing so hard that she looks like she’s struggling to breathe. 

“That’s what I’m wondering!” Juyeon yells, perhaps a bit louder than he anticipated.

“Shhhhh guys, wait until you hear the rest,” Jungeun brings a finger to her lips, exaggerating her motions. 

Once you’ve caught your breath again, you resume, “He invited me to come visit.”

This inspires an entirely new bout of laughter, and you suddenly feel dizzy. The weight of reality settles on your shoulders again. You set the glass in your hand down, pushing it towards the center of the table. God, you are so going to regret this tomorrow.

Your mood must influence the table, because everyone is suddenly as quiet as you are. Haseul glances at Soojin, who glances at Jungeun, who glances at you. 

“Why the sour mood all of a sudden?” Changbin asks, his pink cheeks serving to make him look only more confused. Juyeon, sitting on Changbin’s left, pinches his side, but he does not take the hint. “Oh yeah, (Y/n) had a thing fo-”

He’s cut off by Soojin slapping him upside the head.

Everyone looks over to you, trying to gauge your reaction. Honestly, you don’t even know how to react. You’re dizzy, the light above the table is too bright, and Changbin isn’t making sense at all. You feel your lips melt into a frown. This isn’t right. You know what Changbin was going to say, and it just wasn’t true. You place your elbows up on the table, leaning your head down to rest your face in your hands. You feel like crying.

“Are you going to go?” You hear Haseul ask from your right. She says it so softly that you almost don’t hear it. 

You take your head out of your hands and notice the wetness left by your eyes. Huh. You had started crying. You turn to face her, the wetness on your cheeks turning cold as the air moves over them. She looks serious, the flush of her face completely gone. 

“I don’t know.”

“I think you should,” Jungeun cuts in.

Now you turn to look at her. Similar to Haseul, a solemn expression has come over her face and she seems to have sobered up. 

“I really want to,” you start, but a sob works its way up your chest and cuts you off. For a second, you wonder if other people in the bar are watching. “But, wha- what if its dangerous?”

Jungeun scootches her chair closer to yours and reaches her arms out to wrap around you. She crushes you into a hug, petting the back of your head. To your side, you can hear Changbin start to ask another question, “What if its a cul-” before he is once again cut off by something you can’t see with your face buried in Jungeun’s shoulder. 

After a moment, Jungeun extends her arms and pulls back from you, making sure she can look in your eyes. “Do you think Mingi would put you in danger?” You sniffle and shake your head, bringing a hand up to wipe the tears from your eyes. 

“Then you should go.” You hear Haseul encourage from behind you. Jungeun nods in agreement and lets go of your shoulders. You lean back in your chair to take in the consensus of the group.

Soojin and Juyeon are also nodding at you. Changbin looks a bit doubtful, giving Soojin a nasty side-eye. You feel Haseul rest a hand on your right shoulder, and when you look at her, she’s smiling brightly. 

You scan over your friends’ faces, and think about how wonderful it would have been if Mingi had been here tonight. He was the only person you truly wanted to see. Nevertheless, you smile at them all. They had helped you reach your decision.

“I’ll go.”

← previous || next → || masterlist

THE ANSWER: VI

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

← previous || next → || masterlist chapter word count: 2,180

The knock scares the shit out of you, to say the least. You jump up, almost throwing your phone out of your hands. However, once you comprehend that you’re the out-of-place one in this situation, you set your phone down and turn to the window, rolling it down.

Through the now open window, you can see the person that had knocked. You quickly give him a once over, taking in the stranger. The first thing you notice about him, truly, is how handsome he is. His face is round, yet sculpted, with catlike eyes that hold an almost mischievous glint. His hair is pulled back in the front and longer in the back, sporting a light under-dye. He smiles at you, bringing a hand up to wave. “Sorry for startling you! You must be (Y/n), right?”

For a moment, you’re confused. How in the world did this stranger know your name? It quickly passes, however; as you realize that they must not get very many visitors. Your arrival had probably been anticipated by most of the people living here. You don’t realize that you’re still staring at him until he clears his throat a bit and smiles once more to you. “Oh, sorry, yeah, I’m (Y/n)...” you leave off, wondering what you should say, “is it alright if I park here?”

He chuckles at your response. “Its perfectly fine. If you’re ready to go, I can bring you inside.” When he finishes his sentence, he raises himself up to his full height, and you’re able to take in his outfit. He wears a simple button-down tucked into loose pants, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. The sun shines brightly down onto him, and a glint near his face catches your eye. Fixed onto his collar, he wears an enamel pin. Its two triangles, one a reflection of the other. Their points meet in the middle, creating an hourglass shape. Realizing, once again, that you have been staring for an entirely inappropriate amount of time, you tear your eyes away from the pin and turn back into your car. You unbuckle your seatbelt and unplug your phone from the auxiliary cord, before opening your door and stepping out.

The stranger smiles at you again, gesturing for you to follow him as he starts toward the nearest building. It has a simple enough exterior, gray siding with multiple windows. If you didn’t know better, you would think it looks almost like an apartment building. You don’t really have much of a chance to take in any more of the outdoors, as you are quickly to what appears to be the front door. As the man starts to pull the door open, he stops. “Where have my manners gone? I haven’t even introduced myself. My name is San. Choi San.” He extends his free hand, waiting for you to shake it. You oblige, smiling. 

After the handshake, he pulls the door open and steps aside, allowing you to go first. He then steps in, allowing the door to shut behind him. The room you’ve entered into is what feels like a lobby. There’s some wide open space, with a set of stairs to your right and a hallway to your left. Ahead of you, there’s a couple couches, and some tables with chairs set up around them. The overhead lights aren’t on, but the multitude of windows let in enough natural light for it to be welcoming enough. San turns to the left and starts heading down the hallway. 

“This is just a formality, but do you happen to have your phone on you?” He asks as he continues to lead you through the hall. You tell him you do, bringing your hand up to show him the phone in your grasp. “Ah, see, we are off the grid here, so there’s no phone usage allowed. If you wouldn’t mind, I’ll hold onto your phone until you leave.”

You two reach the end of the hallway, at least, that branch of it. It turns off to the right, and you assume you’ll be heading down their next. The request for your phone does weird you out a little bit. How was Mingi texting you if they were supposedly ‘off the grid?’ San notices your hesitation and assures you that your phone will be safe with him. He reaches his hand out, palm up, waiting for you. After a few more seconds, you hand your phone over to him. They probably just didn’t want some outsider exposing their little haven to the rest of the world. It’s not that weird that they wouldn’t want you to have your phone. He slips the phone into one of his pockets, and then the two of you turn right and head down the next hallway. 

“We have all been so excited to have a visitor,” San glances to look over at your face. “It’s pretty rare that we get them.” You look back at him, not really sure what to say. You weren’t exactly excited to see ‘everyone,’ moreso just ‘one.’ As you two continue down the hall, you try to think of something to say to fill the silence.

For whatever reason, your mind is still a bit fixated on the pin attached to San’s collar. “Can I ask what that symbol means?” You point to the pin.

San’s eyes light up at your question. At the mention of the pin, he seems so suddenly excited. “It’s the Sign of the Answer.” He smiles widely at you.

Again, you have no idea how to respond to that. What the hell does that mean? The Sign of the Answer. An amount of dread curls itself up into your stomach. You force a small smile to your face, nodding at San. The silence envelops you two again, but you’re soon to a door at the end of the hallway.

Well, less of a door, its actually an archway. Probably three feet wide and open to the ceiling, it opens into a gigantic room. The room is full of tables and people, and you can quickly discern it to be a cafeteria. To your surprise, it actually seems like there’s a lot of people living here. Even if everyone was in the cafeteria, which you knew they weren’t, considering the people outside, there had to be at least 40 people. 

Everyone seemed to be milling about casually, there wasn’t any actual food to be seen. Once the initial shock about the amount of people wears off, your mind snaps back to the reason you had come. You quickly look about the room, desperately trying to find Mingi in the sea of people. After what felt like an eternity, you spot him. 

His hair is still red. He’s sitting with another man, the two of them laughing together. Your mind doesn’t really take in the other man, merely the existence of Mingi is enough to overwhelm your senses. Before you know it, your feet are moving on their own and you’re practically running to him. You can hear San following behind you and it feels like it takes you forever to reach Mingi.

You call out to him when there’s only about ten more feet remaining between the two of you. You watch his head turn, and the emotions crossing his face. For a brief second, he looks terribly lost. However, the expression is quickly replaced with what you know to be joy. He stands up from the table, facing you and opening his arms wide.

You can’t help yourself. You do run the last couple feet into his arms. Your arms fly up around his neck, locking together behind him. Similarly, his arms wrap around your waist and he crushes you to him. Before you know it, you’re in the air, twirling around with Mingi. Your senses are completely overwhelmed with him. Mingi. It’s like every bone in your body is calling out for him, like your very cells are each filling with him. Your head is resting on his chest, his shirt soft beneath your cheek. He smells like laundry detergent and maple, a bit different from how you remember. You can feel his breath brushing across the top of your head, and hear a small laugh coming from him. His arms squeeze you tighter as he stops spinning and sets you down, not letting you go. Your hands behind his neck reach up to grasp some of his hair, your fingers weaving between the threads. 

What finally breaks the two of you apart is the laughter coming from behind Mingi. The both of you pull away, awkwardly untangling yourselves and turning to face the sound of the laughter. The man that Mingi had been sitting with is now standing, San at his side. The man stops laughing, and you take him in. 

He’s short. Probably taller than you, but barely. He’s honestly quite handsome as well. He has light brown hair, short in the front, undercut on the sides, but flowing down in the back, longer than his shoulders. His face is longer, sharper, and his eyes have a depth to them that makes him feel wise. He seems to be watching you just as closely as you’re watching him, taking in your every movement and reaction. You look to his outfit, and he is dressed relatively similar to everyone else. Simple farm chic. One thing stands out, however, and that is the large pendant necklace he’s wearing. It’s almost impossible to miss, probably a couple inches tall, it’s the same symbol that’s on San’s pin. 

The man continues watching you as San beckons you closer to the two of them. “(Y/n), this is Hongjoong. He’s the leader here.” 

Hongjoong reaches his hand out towards you. “It’s so nice to finally meet you, (Y/n). Mingi has told us so much about you.”

You take Hongjoong’s hand, expecting another handshake. To your surprise, he brings your hand up to his lips, pressing a kiss onto your knuckles. 

For the third time today, you are absolutely dumbfounded. Is everyone here just kind of… weird? When Hongjoong lets go of your hand, it takes everything in you to not ask why the hell he just did that. However, as the dread from earlier makes itself known in your stomach once more, you decide it’s probably best if you don’t offend anyone here. You do walk back to where you had been standing next to Mingi before, though. “It’s good to meet you, too. Uh,” you leave off, wondering what to say. “How long have you guys been running this place?”

“About three years, now.” Hongjoong’s eyes meet yours. “You’re welcome to stay as long as you’d like.”

Awkwardly, you smile at him, thanking him for his welcome. Not that you planned on taking him up on his offer, anyway. You’re about to ask if you and Mingi can go somewhere to talk privately, but you’re interrupted by another man coming up from behind you. He shoves himself between the gap of you and Mingi, bumping your shoulder and almost sending you stumbling. “What the he-”

You’re cut off by the new guy’s voice. “Hongjoong, I need to speak to you privately.” He stops directly in front of Hongjoong, his back facing you. He’s tall, not as tall as Mingi, but getting up there. To your surprise, he’s not dressed like everyone else. Its like he’s dressed in an entire suit. You look over at Mingi, giving him a look. What was this dude’s issue? Mingi’s eyes just go wide, shrugging his shoulders to you. 

“Seonghwa, is that anyway to treat our guest?” You can’t see Hongjoong, but you can hear the scolding in his tone. He almost sounds like a mother, trying to keep her cool as her kids are acting out in the grocery store. Seonghwa quickly spins around, giving you a once over. You give him one right back. He is wearing a suit. Adorned with a sash, pins, and medals. Nearly all of them display some form of the hourglass. His hair is jet black, undercut on the sides but long on the top. You barely have a chance to comprehend how pretty his eyes are before he rolls them, sighing and crossing his arms. 

“Nice to meet you, (Y/n).” He wheels back around to face Hongjoong. “Seriously, we need to talk.”

“Well,” Hongjoong steps out from behind Seonghwa, reestablishing his smile from before, “you’ll have to excuse us, then. San, Mingi, why don’t you give (Y/n) a tour of the grounds?” His gaze turns to Seonghwa, clapping a hand onto the man’s shoulder and pulling him to turn and face you once more. Seonghwa gives you another uninterested look, huffing as him and Hongjoong start making their way past you and out of the cafeteria. 

“You’ll have to excuse Seonghwa, he doesn’t really warm up to new people very fast.” San steps back closer to you and Mingi, watching the two of them go. “Shall we start that tour?”

← previous || next → || masterlist

THE ANSWER: III

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

← previous || next → || masterlist

chapter word count: 2,238

After you two had finally found a way to contact Mingi, you brought Jungeun back to the restaurant where you had had brunch so that she could get her car and saw her off. You had taken the piece of paper with you, as that’s where you had jotted the phone number that Mingi’s mother gave you.

Once you were finally back to your apartment, it was nearly 5 p.m. The day had been a long one, but at least you had accomplished your only goal. Luckily, you didn’t have work the next day, and you knew that you would be able to stay up all night talking to Mingi.

That is, if you ever worked up the courage to message him. 

Currently, you were starting at the blank chatroom you started with the new Mingi contact in your phone. You couldn’t decide what to say. There was so much to ask, so much to explain, and so much to talk about. You have absolutely no idea where you’re supposed to start. Introduce yourself like he forgot about you? Ask what the hell he thinks he’s doing, running away to live on a commune? Just text him like you normally would? There were too many options. It was all too much.

You groan, locking your phone and setting it down. You lean back into your couch, bringing your hands up to rub your face. You had not anticipated what you would do when you actually got Mingi’s number. You hadn’t even thought of it. How could you not think about what you wanted to say to him first? Sighing, you propel yourself up and off the couch and head into your kitchen area.

Your apartment wasn’t grand by any means, but at least it wasn’t a studio. There was an open kitchen-living area, a single bedroom, and a single, full bathroom. The kitchen was nothing special, it hardly had cooking space, but it was enough to sustain you. Making your way to the fridge, you open it and bend to see inside. You spot a sandwich that you had made to take to work yesterday, but had forgotten about in the morning. Stupid morning shift.

You grab the sandwich and pull off the plastic wrapping that you had covered it in, throwing it away before heading back to your couch. Rather than think about what to say to Mingi, you decide to flip the TV on and try to pay attention to whatever the first thing that comes on is. This does not work.

You go straight back to thinking about what you should say to Mingi while inhaling the sandwich in your hands. For a brief second, Mingi escapes you as you try to remember how long its been since you ate this morning. Seven hours? Six? AH- Who cares? You need to think of something to say to Mingi. Anything. 

Unfortunately, your mind just keeps running in the same circles. There are pros and cons to everything that you could possibly say to him. Finishing off your sandwich, your brain presents you with a rather disturbing thought.

What if Mingi thinks its weird that you found him? Creepy, even? For goodness sake, you had found his mother’s phone number on his school profile. You had to admit, you would probably think it was weird if you were in his position. A worse thought comes to mind immediately after.

What if Mingi doesn’t want to hear from you?

These thoughts are enough to scare the shit out of you. You don’t want to scare Mingi away immediately after you get him back. You can’t do anything to risk losing him again. So how the hell are you supposed to contact him?

You lost the ability to form a coherent thought. Picking up your phone, you take note of the time. You’d been thinking for an hour. And your deliberations were going nowhere. You unlocked the phone and were, once again, greeted with the sight of the blank chatroom. Sighing, you exit out and open the phone, scrolling to Jungeun’s name and selecting the ‘call’ button.

She picked up pretty quickly. Embarrassed, you thought that she had probably been expecting you to overthink and need to call her. Jungeun always knew that you were that type of person. “Hey, (y/n), how are you?”

You bite your lip, thinking for a moment what you should say to her. “I’m scared to text him,” is what you decide on.

“Why?”

“What if he thinks its weird? What if he doesn’t want to tal-”

“That is absolutely not what is going to happen,” Jungeun plainly states. She sounds so sure of herself that you are stunned into silence, waiting to hear what she will say next. “(Y/n), I love you, but you overthink way too much sometimes. Mingi will love to hear from you. Simply tell him that you’ve missed him and want to get back in contact. The worst that will happen is he will ignore you. And, if he does, that’s entirely his loss.”

Your silence continues. You know that all of what Jungeun just said is true. The little pep talk actually does a lot to motivate you, so you quickly thank her and hang up the phone.

You’re still nervous, but you will just follow her advice. Jungeun was right, he will really like to hear from you. And, if he doesn’t, then that’s his problem. 

Immediately after hanging the phone up, you open your messages app back up and go back into the empty conversation with Mingi. Without overthinking it, you type out a quick message.

Hey, Mingi, its (y/n), from school. I hope you’re doing well, I was hoping you might want to catch up a little bit. I miss you. 6:27 P.M.

The sound of the message being sent rings out in your living room. No going back now. You continue to stare at your message, trying to make sure that you didn’t make any typos or grammar mistakes. There’s none, from what you can tell. 

You sit in the chatroom for the coming minutes waiting for anything. A read receipt, a typing notification, a response, anything. Absolutely anything would be better than this mind-numbing silence. Sighing once more, you lock your phone again and turn your attention to the TV. You hadn’t even realized it, but Grey’s Anatomy had been playing for, presumably, this entire time. You find it almost ironic how the situation you’re in right now is one fit for a melodrama. Mingi had hated these kinds of shows, always wondering why someone would want to be sad on purpose. 

You wonder if he knew how upset his leaving had made you. Had he even thought of you when he left? Why didn’t he ask you to come with him? Had he been forced? Was he in danger? Did he hate you? Did he leave so that he wouldn’t have to see you anymore? Ugh- you shake your head to clear it of these thoughts. No, Mingi had simply not thought about how hurt you would be… but that in itself hurts, too.  How could he not have considered your feelings?

You unlock your phone again to stare at the chatroom. Still nothing. How long is this gonna take? You hadn’t even thought about the waiting period. You turn your phone’s notification volume almost to the max, not wanting even a second to go by where you are unaware that you had received a message. You lock the phone once again.

.・。.・゜✭ ⧖ ・.・ ⧖ ✫・゜・。.

Somewhere along the way, you had fallen asleep on your couch, waiting for a response. In your defence, it had been a very tiring day. Still, you had awoken because of your familiar notification sound, indicating that you had received a text. Thank God you had turned the volume all the way up.

Hurriedly, you pick up your phone (it had fallen onto the ground) and flip it over, unlocking it to find that it had still been locked on the once empty conversation. Now; however, it had your message accompanied by one more. 

(Y/n)!? Its great to hear from you! I’d love to catch up, but you’re probably sleeping. Text me in the morning. 2:20 A.M.

Forget texting him in the morning, you were going to respond to him right here and right now. Without really thinking about it, you shoot him another message

Mingi, you would not believe how hard I’ve been looking for you. Are you alright? 2:21 A.M.

You’re fully awake now, sitting up on your couch and not-so-patiently waiting for Mingi’s response. The minutes trickle by, and Mingi doesn’t respond. Soon enough, its 2:41 and it doesn’t seem like Mingi will be responding at all again tonight. 

Fulfilled that you had at least gotten some sort of response from him, you decide that its probably alright if you go to sleep. At least you know he’s alive. You haul yourself off of your couch and head to your bedroom, quickly changing into some pajamas that you had scattered about the floor, and hopping into bed. Surprisingly, it didn’t take long to fall asleep.

.・。.・゜✭ ⧖ ・.・ ⧖ ✫・゜・。.

The constant alarm that you have set on the alarm clock wakes you up at 8:30 sharp. Instantly, your thoughts turn to Mingi and you briefly wonder if you had hallucinated him texting you back last night. Looking around, you realize that you must have left your phone in the living room, as it isn’t on the nightstand where you normally would rest it. 

You hurriedly pull your blankets off of you, eager to get to your phone; and, by extension, Mingi. Once you’re out of bed and into the living room, you’re able to spot your phone right where you must have left it, on one of your couch cushions. Excitedly, you grab it to check your notifications. Sure enough, Mingi had responded.

I’m doing great. Loving life. How are you? 5:30 A.M.

Jeez, what was Mingi doing up at 5 A.M? And, come to think of it, why had he been awake in the middle of the night last night? Your confusion quickly is replaced with joy, however. Joy that you had found Mingi, joy that he was apparently doing alright, and joy that you could finally talk to him again. 

I’m relieved that you’re alright. What have you been up to? 8:34 A.M.

Did that seem weird? Was that a weird thing to say? Hopefully not. This time, it doesn’t take Mingi long at all to respond.

I live on a commune now! I know that may sound strange, but its honestly so wonderful here. The community is amazing. Did you graduate? 8:36 A.M.

Of course, you had known about the commune. It still seemed odd to you, though. What the hell had inspired him to drop out of college and quit society? It just didn’t feel to you like something that your Mingi would have ever done. Thinking of a way to keep the conversation on the topic at hand, you respond.

I graduated, yeah! If you don’t mind me asking, what made you join? 8:39 A.M.

You internally cringe at how weirdly formal you’re being. This is nothing like how you and Mingi used to interact. He seems so stiff, almost like he needs to give you perfect responses. A few minutes pass and Mingi still hasn’t responded. Without even thinking about it, you hit the dial icon next to his contact name, and your phone is ringing. 

You bring it up to your ear and listen to the dial tone. If he picked up, you wouldn’t even know what to do. If seeing his picture yesterday had evoked such a reaction in you, what would hearing his voice do? Unfortunately, your question is never answered. He doesn’t pick up, and his voicemail isn’t set up, either.

Sighing, you go back into the chatroom and see that Mingi had texted you again.

Sorry, can’t really talk on the phone right now. To answer your question, it was the people. 8:45 A.M.

There’s that awkward, stiff tone right now. Mingi would have never sounded so formal with you. It was so weird to interact with him in this way. And that answer. What the hell does that even mean, ‘the people?’ You’re almost becoming a little frustrated with Mingi. Why couldn’t he talk on the phone? Ugh.

I see. What’s it like there? 8:46 A.M.

This time, you hardly have to wait a second before Mingi replies.

Do you want to come check it out? We love visitors. 8:46 A.M.

Huh? Come check it out? Mingi was already inviting you to come visit, despite you two only being in contact for, what, 10 hours total? Was he that eager to see you? Why hadn’t he reached out himself, then? Or… was this a ploy. Were you going to be invited to visit and then not be able to leave? 

No. Mingi wouldn’t do that. He would never put you in danger. Still, though, you decide that you should probably think about it before giving him a definite yes or no. Afterall, you have a job to worry about. 

Let me get back to you on that. 8:50 A.M.

← previous || next → || masterlist

THE ANSWER: VIII

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

← previous || next → || masterlist chapter word count: 4,286

After Mingi had told you that it was dinner time, you realized how hungry you’ve gotten. Afterall, really all you had had all day was that coffee from this morning. How you had totally forgotten about lunch, you have no idea.

On the walk back down the stairs, your little group becomes significantly larger. People are pouring out of their rooms and heading in the same direction, toward the cafeteria. To your surprise, a small child sneaks his way around your legs, running ahead of you. Huh, there really are kids here.

With Mingi still next to you, you ask him if the meals are on schedules. “Yeah, but it depends on the day,” he starts, “Everyday, we have scheduled breakfast at seven, though there are mandatory activities before breakfast. Lunch is kind of a fend for yourself thing, there are always snacks out in the cafeteria, but on Sunday we always have a scheduled lunch at noon. Dinner bell always rings at five, and we should be eating by five-thirty.”

“Ah, okay.” You respond, nodding your head as you listen along. You guess it makes sense, with so many people to feed it would be much more efficient to eat all at once at the same time. 

Following the crowd, you make it back to the cafeteria in just a few minutes. Some of the tables are already filling up, and you try to get an idea of how many people are around. It looks to be about forty adults, and maybe… five kids? The operation honestly seems a bit bigger than you had originally thought. 

Mingi and San head to the back of a line that’s starting to form. San takes a second to explain that meals are typically served lunch-room style. He also tells you that there are always two hot meal options, but also cold, pre-prepared foods available. Finally, he adds that you can take as much as you want. You three wait in line together, and Mingi pulls you in front of him so that you can be between him and San. You give him a smile as thanks, appreciating the fact that he still remembers how uncomfortable you can get when you’re too close to strangers. Mingi used to do the same thing all the time in the university cafeteria, putting you in front of him so that you could have all the time and space you needed. 

You move through the line, watching others before copying their behavior. The first thing that comes up on the line is… creamed corn. Okay, makes sense, this is a corn farm afterall. The next few things are other miscellaneous side dishes, and you just grab whatever looks appetizing. The main courses today are… “What is that?” you ask San, leaning a bit closer to the trays of food.

“Looks like paninis!” He grabs the tongs sitting in front of the tray and grabs one, putting it on his plate. “Meat and cheese, probably.” He shrugs at you, moving along. 

From what you can tell, the other option seems to be a soup of some kind and, honestly, that does not seem filling enough. You grab one of the paninis and continue down with San. Mingi, however, moves on without a panini, “I love our chicken noodle soup, but I feel bad for the chickens,” he leaves off, leaning in closer to you to whisper the next part, “this is why we don’t name them.” He sticks his lower lip out for a moment, but he quickly starts smiling once more once he reaches the soup ladle. 

You three continue to the end of the line, finally picking a drink to go along with your meal. All three of you decide on a simple water. Honestly, after that day of touring, you were pretty tired out. You probably should have been drinking water all day, but it hadn’t even occurred to you. 

San leads you to an empty table, plopping himself down on one side of the bench. You take the spot across from San, and Mingi quickly slides in next to you. You’re about to grab your panini when you realize that neither San nor Mingi have touched their food yet. They’re just sitting quietly with their hands in their laps, looking around aimlessly. Confused, you take a look about the room. Similarly, everyone else that’s seated is also waiting. 

“Uh… what are we waiting for?” You whisper to Mingi, looking up at him in question. 

He takes another look around the room before responding. “Hongjoong says a few words before we eat.”

“Oh,” is all you can muster in reply. That’s kind of weird. And by kind of weird you mean pretty weird. Why can’t he ‘say a few words’ while you’re eating? You stare at your panini and realize just how hungry you’ve gotten. Man, it smells good in this cafeteria. Where is Hongjoong?

You look around the room again, and notice that no one remains in the line anymore. Presumably the entire group of people is seated in the cafeteria, waiting for their leader. Even the few children you can see are waiting, sitting patiently and quietly next to their adults. 

Movement catches the corner of your eye and, thankfully, there is Hongjoong, walking through the main door of the cafeteria. He smiles at everyone, observing the room as he makes his way toward the front. Once there, he turns to face the crowd.

“Good evening!” He says, folding his hands in front of him.

A resounding “Good evening” rings about the room, everyone responding to his greeting in unison. You quickly look to Mingi, attempting to give him the most confused face you can muster, but he’s locked on to Hongjoong. In fact, everyone in the room is. You try to survey the people in the cafeteria as sneakily as possible, but you figure the fact that you are, quite literally, the only person moving even a muscle probably gives you away. When you realize this, you quickly snap your head back to the front, to Hongjoong. 

To your shock, he’s already staring directly at you. “As many of you know, we have a guest today.” He brings a hand up to gesture to you over at your table, and the eyeline of every person in the room follows it to you. Not knowing what you should do, you awkwardly give a small wave, trying to conceal how utterly uncomfortable this moment is. Literally every single person in the room has their eyes on you, and you can feel the weight of each individual stare. Why is everyone acting so damn weird all of a sudden? “So I expect everyone to be on their best behavior.” His tone is quite serious. You look back up at Hongjoong, and he immediately establishes eye contact with you. Why does it feel like he’s speaking to you, and not everyone else?

“With that, I have a few more announcements. First off, harvest season is almost upon us, so I hope everyone is prepared for harvest rotations. Again, everyone must participate! This is an all hands on deck situation!” He starts, finally looking away from you and talking to the group once more. He sounds much more upbeat now. “Second, I want to remind you all that the great God above dearly loves each and every one of you! Every second is a blessing, and we have Him to thank.”

Um. Okay? You can’t even try to hide the confusion that crosses your face. Where the hell did that come from? With furrowed brows, you continue to stare up at Hongjoong. To your dismay, he whips his head back towards you and reestablishes eye contact. You immediately try to remove any semblance of emotion from your face, but it doesn’t seem to work. If you didn’t know any better, you would think that, for a moment, he smirks at your reaction. For a split second, you could swear he looks malicious. The moment quickly passes, however, and his expression is replaced with a big smile. “Eat up, everyone!”

With that, everyone turns to their food and starts eating. The room quickly fills with the sounds of people socializing, the din becoming gradually louder. You face forward again, looking at your food. After that disturbing display, you’ve almost lost your appetite… wait, nope, there it is. You pick up your panini and dig in, and, by God, it’s a good panini. So good, in fact, that you hardly notice the new people that have come to stand at your side. 

San hurriedly gathering all his things and standing up is what gets your attention. When you try to look and see where he’s going, you’re met with two familiar faces. Hongjoong and Seonghwa. You hardly notice San slipping onto your side of the bench next to Mingi, entranced watching Hongjoong and Seonghwa sit across from you. Hongjoong takes San’s previous spot, in front of you, and Seonghwa sits to his left, in front of Mingi.

Neither of them have food with them. You’re suddenly uncomfortably self-aware of how fast you were gobbling down that panini, and set what remains back onto your tray, trying to not look at the newcomers.

“Did these two give you a good tour?” You look up as he asks, and his face is still smeared with that giant smile. “How do you like it here?”

You think for a second on your answer. What does he want to hear? On one hand, you don’t want to offend him. On the other, you don’t want him to make up some notion that you’ll be staying even a second longer than you had originally planned. Honestly, at this rate, you might leave even a bit earlier. “They did! It seems like… a nice place to visit.”

As soon as you say it, you regret it. God, that definitely sounds like you want to leave. Trying to save your answer, you give Hongjoong your best fake smile. He simply continues smiling at you, bringing his arms up to rest on the table. You glance at Seonghwa, trying to gauge his reaction as well. He just stares at you blankly. 

Mingi saves you. “Well, she sure likes the food!” He laughs, gesturing to your near empty plate. Everyone bursts into tension filled laughter (well, everyone except Seonghwa), and you are extremely thankful for the diversion.

After the laughter dies down and your table finds itself back in its awkward silence, Hongjoong claps his hands together. “Well, again, you are welcome to stay for as long as you want.” He gives you a quick smile, moving to stand up.

You expect Seonghwa to stand with him, but he remains seated as Hongjoong waits for him. “I don’t think she wants to stay.” He’s staring directly at you, tilting his head as if he’s curious. 

Your eyes go wide and a protest starts rising to your lips. You stop yourself, however, stunned to silence under his glare. “Don’t you want to be saved?” He asks, leaning forward in his seat toward you. He blinks plainly at you, awaiting an answer.

Right as you’re about to respond (with a very confused ‘what?’), Hongjoong grabs Seonghwa by the shoulder and pulls him back, laughing a bit through his words, “Let’s not get into that right now. (Y/n), excuse us.” Even though he’s laughing, you can see his grip on Seonghwa’s shoulder getting tighter. Despite this, Seonghwa stays in place, his glare pinning you to your spot. You can’t look away from him, either. 

San and Mingi remain silent, and, though you can’t see them, you imagine that they both are as uncomfortable as you are. Hongjoong bends at his waist, pulling Seonghwa’s body back further at the same time. He brings his lips to Seonghwa’s ear, whispering something that you can’t make out. Immediately, Seonghwa’s expression breaks, and now he is the one looking shocked. He turns to Hongjoong, eyes wide. “Get up.” Hongjoong says, straightening back up and releasing his grip on Seonghwa’s shoulder. He turns and starts walking away, and Seonghwa scrambles up, quickly making to follow after him.

You watch them go, wondering what the hell just happened. You really could not make sense of anything, from what Seonghwa had said to you to what just happened between him and Hongjoong. You look back down at your plate, realizing that your appetite truly has left you this time. Pushing the tray away, you turn to Mingi.

About a million questions are running through your mind, and it’s impossible to pick just one to ask. Mingi honestly looks just as shocked as you are, still watching the backs of the two that had just left. You glance past Mingi to look at San, who is practically mirroring Mingi.

Considering they’re both as confused as you are, you figure it probably wouldn’t do any good to ask them what had just happened. You hadn’t even realized, but, looking around the room, it seems like a lot of people have already started clearing out. Not many people remain in the cafeteria, and those that do look like they’re finishing up.

You notice that one of the stragglers is making his way over to the table, and it takes you a second to recognize that it’s Wooyoung, from earlier. He smiles at you, waving as he approaches the table. As he takes in the expressions of you three, however, his smile drops and his expression changes to one of concern. 

“Are you guys alright?” He asks once he reaches the end of the table, looking from you to Mingi to San and then back. 

This snaps Mingi and San out of their stunned states. “Yes?” Mingi replies, making his affirmation sound more like a question. 

Wooyoung nods, but he doesn’t look too convinced. “Uh-huh,” he looks around the room, seemingly trying to find what has the three of you so flabbergasted. “Anyways, we’re gonna have a bonfire if you guys would like to join us in the plain commons.” 

San perks up at this. “Of course! We’ll be there.” You look to him, and his confused expression has completely left his face, replaced with the cheerful smile you’ve come to know. 

Wooyoung’s smile returns, and he lets you guys know that it’ll be ready in just a few minutes. You return his smile, waving as he turns to go. As soon as he’s left, however, you go right back to being just as confused as before. 

As you’re about to ask Mingi what Seonghwa had meant by his question, San gets up. “I’ll clear these for you guys, if you want to head out.” He says, grabbing his tray and the trays in front of you and Mingi. 

Mingi thanks him, standing up from the bench. He puts his hand out for you, and you readily grab it as you follow suit. The two of you walk in silence back outside. Again, you really want to ask what Seonghwa had meant, but Mingi speaks before you can. “We’re alone.”

Yes, in fact, you two are finally alone. This was all that you had been wanting all day. Yet, in the moment, everything you’ve wanted to say disappears from your mind. You search for a response, and blurt out the first thing that comes to mind. “I really missed you.”

He squeezes your hand in his, a small smile coming to his face. “I missed you, too.”

You almost want to freeze right there in the hall. You two are alone. The realization is finally hitting you, and you want to dig your heels in and refuse to go outside. A gentle silence falls between you two, and you don’t want to go to the bonfire, you don’t want to meet any more new people. You want to spend time with Mingi, and with Mingi alone. You start to hesitate in your steps, until you really do stop.

Mingi goes on for a step, his arm pulling yours upward. He stops, once he feels the resistance, turning to look over his shoulder at you. “Is something wrong?” He asks, looking concerned.

You don’t know where it comes from, but you suddenly feel the tears pricking at the corners of your eyes and your chest tightening. “Hey,” Mingi quickly notices, dropping your hand so that he can fully turn back to face you. Your tears start falling from the concerned tone of his voice alone. He steps back to you, lightly putting his hands on the sides of your arms. “Don’t cry. Why are you crying?” He’s bending slightly, his face level with yours. The pained expression he’s wearing only serves to make the tears come faster.

You don’t even know how to answer him. Why are you crying? Because you missed him so much? Because he left you in the first place? Because you’re going to have to leave him tomorrow? Because your life will never go back to how it was when he was a part of it? There’s too many reasons. He should be asking why you hadn’t cried yet. You only start crying harder when you think, and Mingi starts looking almost scared.

That almost makes you laugh. Not that you had made a habit out of crying in front of him, but, whenever you had in the past, he normally would start freaking out. He had never had the faintest clue how to comfort you. Now, however, he straightens himself back to his full height and pulls you to him, taking his hands from your arms to wrap around you. One finds its way around your waist, while the other goes around your shoulders, his hand cradling the back of your head. 

Instinctively, you wrap yourself around him, letting him hold you in the hallway. Your hands clench the back of his shirt, holding him like you might lose him. With your face in his chest, now you really can’t stop the tears. You really begin to cry now, with noises arising from your chest that you don’t even attempt to stop. Mingi simply holds you, stroking the back of your head in an attempt to calm you down. He murmurs reassurances to you, continuing to let you let it all out. 

After a few minutes, you begin to calm down. Your thoughts become more coherent, and you realize what is actually happening right now. You are in the dark hallway of a commune building, being held by your best friend that had abandoned you for a farm. Trying to compose yourself, you let go of your death grip on Mingi’s shirt and pull yourself back. He lets you go, and, for a moment, you wish he didn’t. When you look up at him, wiping your tears with the backs of your hands, you notice wetness on his cheeks as well. He looks away from you, bringing his own hand up to his face in a copy of your motions. 

You clear your throat, really having no idea what to do now. “Sorry,” you whisper, looking at the floor and trying to memorize the pattern on the carpet over looking at Mingi’s red eyes again. 

He puts a hand on your shoulder, and you look up at him. He’s shaking his head, still not looking at you. With surprise, you realize he’s still crying. He opens his mouth, but nothing comes out. When he looks back down at you, his voice is hoarse. “No, I’m sorry.” It’s so quiet that you can barely hear it, and he pulls you back to him again.

This time, you’re the one to comfort him. His body starts shaking, sobs racking his chest as you hold him tight once more. He’s too tall to put his face in your neck, so he’s pressing into the side of your head, wetting your hair. His hands are clinging to your shirt, holding the fabric tight to your body. 

Your arms wrap around his neck, squeezing him to let him know you’re there. You play with the ends of his hair, trying to calm him as he had you. Your eyes become wet again. You had no idea that Mingi would be so torn up over you crying. 

After the course of another few minutes, Mingi seems to make the same realizations that you had. His grip on your shirt loosens, and he picks his head up, but he doesn’t let go. He leans back to look at you, and then he does let go. He takes his hands out from behind you and brings them up to your face, softly cupping your cheeks. His thumbs swipe under your eyes, drying them easily. 

You two stand there for a moment, your arms around his neck and his hands on your face. You quickly realize, however, that this is not a way that friends stand. You bring your arms down and step back, looking to the ground again. Mingi releases you easily, using his hands to wipe his own remaining tears. 

He clears his throat, looking around the hallway like he’s expecting someone to pop out at him. “We should probably get outside.”

You quickly agree, wiping your face once more and desperately hoping that it doesn’t look like you just bawled your eyes out. 

With that, you two start heading out again.

.・。.・゜✭ ⧖ ・.・ ⧖ ✫・゜・。.

The bonfire goes well. In the open space in front of the main building, there was a large fire and a few of those outdoor folding chairs set up. You and Mingi had claimed two a bit farther away from everyone else, and he had comfortingly held your hand while you two sat in a much more comfortable silence than before. 

As the fire is winding down, you notice San heading toward the two of you. He smiles, asking if you’re about ready to turn in.

Mingi yawns, letting go of your hand to stretch his arms out behind him. 

Honestly, you think you could go a few more hours. You ask San what time it is, wondering why he felt the need to come ask you guys. “It’s 8:45, and curfew is at 9.”

Of course there’s a curfew. It just would make things too easy if there wasn’t. You realize that San is telling more than he’s asking, so you stand. Mingi follows.

Once more, the three of you head into the main building and up the stairs. As you peruse the second floor to reach the next staircase, you notice that many others are entering rooms as well. At the third floor, Mingi takes the lead. He walks only a bit down the hallway before stopping in front of a door. 

“This is my room…” He trails off, looking between you and San. “I’ll see you in the morning, (Y/n)?” 

You smile, giving him a nod as he opens the door. He smiles back at you, before turning into the room and closing the door.

You follow San the rest of the way down the hallway, and up the stairs to the women’s floor. He leads you to your door, opening it once more for you. You look inside, and realize that you don’t have your overnight bag with you. You sigh, not wanting to have to go all the way back down the stairs and all the way back up them. You tell San this, leaning against the door frame with a dramatic hand on your face.

“Oh,” he starts, looking down the hall. “Don’t worry, I had Yunho grab your bag.”

You take the hand from your face, a confused expression gracing it. “Whose that?”

“Me!”

You jump, turning toward the voice. There stands, apparently, Yunho, holding your bag in both his hands in front of him. He extends his arms, presenting the bag to you. You take it, still shocked by his sudden appearance. 

He’s tall. Like, Mingi tall. His hair is a dark brown, slightly textured. He’s smiling at you, and its almost blindingly beautiful. Like everyone else, he’s in the same blue jeans and button down, accompanied by a pair of black suspenders. His sleeves are rolled up to his elbows, and, wow, does he look muscular. What is up with all the guys in this place? You seriously consider it for a second, before remembering that farming is very labor intensive work. His shoulders are so broad you wonder how his shirt even fits him, but that is a matter for another day.

Once more, you realize that you’ve been staring. You quickly look away, thanking him for getting your bag. 

He continues beaming at you, telling you that it’s not a problem at all. 

The three of you stand in silence in the hall, before you clear your throat. “Well, uh, goodnight?” You look between them, waiting for one of them to do something.

San moves first. “Goodnight, (Y/n)!” He gives your shoulder a pat as he walks away, back down the hallway to the stairs.

Yunho is quick to follow, saying his goodnight to you and going after San.

You watch them go before going into your room and closing the door. It’s just how you remember it. You set your bag down on the ground by the bed, opening it to grab your pyjamas. 

After going about your nightly routine, you pull the blankets back on the bed. You plan on distracting yourself for a bit, that is, mess around on your phone, before remembering that San still has it. 

Sighing, you get into bed and make yourself comfortable. You drift off faster than you would have expected, tired after your long day.

← previous || next → || masterlist

THE ANSWER: XVIII

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

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

FUCK.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Onward.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The engine only whines louder. 

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

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

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

That is, until light inches toward the stalks. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Three…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I can see you, you know.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fucking hell.

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

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

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

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

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

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

He blinks down at you. “Please what?”

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

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

You don’t mean it. You don’t. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You shake your head no.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh. 

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

You slowly nod your head.

“I need you to say it.”

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

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

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

“And?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You will always be safe with me.”

← previous || next → || masterlist