out of the woods [yeonjun x reader]

chapter 4: welcome home

When I came to, it was fairly obvious I was no longer within the warm walls of Seoul Food. Gone was the tantalizing scent of fried dough and barbecue.
Even more, I no longer felt the rough carpeted floor under me of the van I was so carelessly thrown into the back of.
No, the only scent that filled my nostrils currently was sort of a damp smell, insinuating the was a water source close by.
Beyond that, my surroundings reeked vaguely of cigarettes and more pre-dominantly marijuana.
Within my lungs, however, I can almost feel the remains of whatever was in that washcloth— with every breath I breathe in and out.
"Well, well."
A chilled voice rings in my ears.
My eyelids flutter.
"Sorry to disturb your rest."
A bitter, sardonic apology.
Through a bleary gaze, I attempt to match my surroundings with the picture my other senses have already painted in my mind.
When I come to, it's not too far off.
I wake up staring straight ahead at a gray-ish concrete wall and there's a faint dripping sound somewhere, still alluding to some form of water. Most likely a faucet.
Despite my dizziness, I attempt to sit up.
That quickly proves fruitless though as I crumple back into my original heap—feeling like my head weighs a million pounds.
"Ow." I wince as I clutch my temples.
A shadow moves over me and I sneak a risky glance up, a chill immediately stabbing through my chest when I do.
Looming over me with his hands casually in his pockets, he stares at down at me—tilting his head the slightest bit to the side.
Yeonjun.
"Sleep well?" He raises an eyebrow and when I try to form a response, I'm greeted with a beyond dry mouth incapable of creating a coherent sentence.
He doesn't wait for an answer. "Yes? Good. We have a long day ahead of us."
Day?
My gaze flicks around, looking for a window to inform me of at least a semblance of time but I'm greeted with endless dark walls.
"Looking for a way out? Good luck. This is a basement, ... ?" he trails off expectantly and I blink blankly at him.
"Your name." he says more as a statement than an inquiry.
Silence.
My head is pounding. What is happening?
Oh my god—I've been kidnapped.
"W-why am i here?" I manage to croak out, licking my lips for some form of moisture.
"Your name." He repeats, his eyes drilling into mine.
"My name??"
"Yes. Now." He snaps, suddenly looking irritated. "Don't make me ask you again."
"It's y/n." I stutter, caught off guard by his sudden aggression. "That's my name."
"Y/n..." he echoes, his demeanor shifting back to casual. "Hm."
"Well, y/n," he looks down at me, crossing his arms over his chest. "You want to know why your here? This is your new home."
My stomach folds in half at his words and I try to process what the hell is happening.
"If this is about the murder. I didn't do anything, I happened to see it happen. I don't know who did it—I don't even know that guy—"
"Well, I do." He nearly growls and my eyes widen some.
"I did..." he corrects himself hollowly. "Hyunwoo was like a brother to me. And now that he's dead, there's no one to identify his killer but you."
"I'm sorry for your loss BUT I already told you, I didn't see who did it!" I insist. "Please- let me go- you can't keep me here—"
"Oh I will let you go." He crouched down in front of me so we're at level eye contact. "Once you tell me who it was."
I ball my fists in frustration as I stare at him. "I. Don't. Know."
He studies me for a moment before nodding some. "Okay. Maybe you need some help jogging your memory."
Distrust edges me to inch backwards and his hand flies out to grab my ankle, holding me in place.
"Let go of me!" I exclaim, attempting to wriggle out of his grip. I try to kick him but all he does is grab my other leg as well and pin them both
to the ground.
My next move is to try shoving him off of me but it proves useless as I'm clearly still too weak from the drugs in that washcloth.
"Let go—!" I shriek as he uses my legs as an advantage to flip me over on my stomach and wrestle my arms behind my back.
"OW." I yelp as he twists my wrists to grip them in one of his hands and pins them to my lower back.
"Don't fight me, y/n." He says my name almost tauntingly.
"Please let me go," I beg, still struggling resistantly. "I swear— I won't tell anyone that you kidnapped me and held me against my will."
I emphasize my words, hoping he'll realize how illegal and crazy this is.
He doesn't.
"That's so crazy." He mocks me as I incline my head around to meet his gaze. "You really think you're gonna be talking to anyone else?? Take a good long look because this is the only face you're gonna be seeing until you tell me what you know."
I growl in frustration. "What do you not understand?? I don't know ANYTHING. I was taking out GARBAGE—"
His free hand flies out to grab a fistful of my hair and yank my head back, eliciting a yelp from me.
"Don't raise your voice at me, bitch—or I'll slit that pretty little throat of yours."
He gives my head an almost threatening shake and I clamp my mouth shut, feeling like this man is just in a constant place of bordering psychosis.
"That's what I thought." he mutters in annoyance. "Come on, get up."
"Where are you taking me?" I risk asking, hoping that as I comply physically, he won't lose his shit and gut me open right here.
"We have to refresh that memory of yours, remember?"
I don't like the sound of that. I don't like the sound of any of this.
"What do you mean?" is my hesitant question.
"You'll see."
Ironically, he pulls a blindfold out of his back pocket and sets about tying it extremely tight over my eyes.
Oh God. He's going to kill me.