out of the woods [yeonjun x reader]

chapter 12: i'm already kidnapped

To be honest, I'm not sure how much I drank of that bottle.
There just reached a point where the alcohol made feel even more depressed, pressing me deeper and deeper into a pool of sadness.
But then, I pushed on, drinking more and eventually I stopped feeling everything altogether.
That's when I assume I must've passed out.
I don't remember anything beyond that.
I definitely don't remember somehow ending up in a bed.
That's where I find myself when I groggily come to.
I crease my eyebrows, feeling the plush fabric surrounding me.
Well, it's not the comfiest bed I've ever slept in but anything is a step up from the concrete floor of the janitors closet.
My eyes slowly open, trying to adjust to the dim lighting.
Once I finally take in that I'm in unfamiliar surroundings, and I have no idea how I got here, I scramble to sit up and collect myself.
My brain feels like it's rolling around in my skull, being pounded by a hammer while my wrist gets caught on something, preventing me from completely sitting up.
I turn wildly around to see that my right wrist has been handcuffed to an iron bar across the back headboard of the bed frame .
What. The. Fuck.
Even though I should know it won't do anything, I yank at it, attempting to force my wrist out, which only leaves angry red marks on my skin.
I swallow hard, feeling a stronger sense of panic settle into my chest as I look around the room I'm in and not seeing anything profound.
I see two doors, a window with heavy drapes drawn and maybe three odd lamps casting a dim glow into the gloomy room.
My first thought would obviously be that I've been kidnapped...but I'm ALREADY kidnapped. So that means there's only one person behind this.
Sure enough, given a few minutes, the door on the right wall suddenly opens and in strides Yeonjun.
"Well, well, nice to see you've finally woken up." He comments dryly, standing at the end of the bed and crossing his toned arms across his chest.
I glare at him. "Like you weren't the one that got me drunk on purpose."
He quirks an eyebrow up at my response.
"What exactly was the point of that anyway?? Because I swear, if you laid a finger on me while I was passed out—I will kill you." I snap aggressively.
At this, he looks almost offended and scoffs. "The only finger I laid on you was to bring you up here and believe me, it wasn't my idea. Yunho seemed to think leaving you passed out drunk, pathetic and worthless on the floor was somehow wrong. The bed was his idea."
I blink, processing what he's saying. He could be lying, but I think I'll just choose to believe him for the sake of my mental health.
"The handcuffs were my idea."
My gaze flicks up to meet his and his eyes are tearing into my own.
"Wow. Surprising." I mutter sarcastically.
"You know. You talk so carelessly for someone who's life and death rests in my hand." Yeonjun comments thoughtfully and I don't relent. "You don't scare me."
He doesn't respond right away and instead waits til he's walked around the bed at an agonizingly slow pace and stopped next to me.
I feel a wave of fear wash over me but I try not to show it.
Standing there isn't enough, apparently and instead he leans over me, causing me to cower back as much as I can as he grips the iron bar I'm handcuffed to.
The veins in his arms ripple as his fist tightens and he holds his face a few inches from mine. "Oh?"
I force a tentative nod.
"Then tell me," he somehow moves closer, his lips so near mine. "If you're not scared, what are you?"
Maybe it's his question that catches me off guard, or maybe it's our precarious position—regardless, I stutter over my answer.
"I-I-"
"You know..." He dips his head, almost as if unsuccessfully trying to hide a smirk. "You're the first woman I've handcuffed to this bed. You should feel special."
I don't know whether to be terrified, disgusted or offended. So I decide to just try and ignore him altogether.
"Right. Anyway, now that I'm awake and obviously not trying to run away—can I go back to my closet?" I ask boredly, tilting my chin up so he knows I'm not intimidated.
He pauses, reading me. Or at least trying to.
"You don't even remember why you're here, do you? Because fucking Yunho has me treating you like a guest when you're just as guilty as the bastard that killed—"
He abruptly stops, like he can't bring himself to say it and instantly backs off of the bed.
He turns his body away from me so I can't see his face and for a second, I almost wonder if tears had started to brim.
His head visibly hangs down and I swallow hard, unsure why I even feel sorry for this monster.
I know what it's like to lose someone you love though. To lose everyone.
There's a reason there's not a single person who would come looking for me.
"Yeonjun..." my lips begin saying words that I never approved of leaving my mind, but I can't seem to stop. "I am so, so sorry for what happened to Hyunwoo. No one deserves that. I wish I saw who did it, so I could help. But it's all a blur. Maybe if I saw him again I could point him out but I didn't see anything specific, it was dark he was in a hoodie and when I heard the gunshots, it was like I blacked out."
He doesn't budge.
"I want to help. I know how it feels to lose someone."
Yeonjun echoes a dry chuckle as he turns around, no evidence of tears and any trace of emotion on his face, completely gone. "You have no idea how I feel."
I blink, slightly taken aback especially considering how open and honest I was trying to be.
"But you're right about one thing. You are going to help. If seeing a face will jog your memory, then fine. We'll start tomorrow."
"Tomorrow??" My eyebrows shoot up. "What time is it now?"
"Don't worry about it." Yeonjun replies with a casual shrug. "Don't forget, Y/N. You find who did this, I let you go. Until then, I own you. You're on my time."
"Yeah, yeah," I mutter, nearly rolling my eyes.
I swear, I see him nearly smile but he doesn't address my attitude.
"Remember," he steps towards me again, reaching into his jean pocket for something. "You try to run, I'll kill you."
He slips the key to the handcuffs into the lock and clicks them open.
I slowly lower my hand, making sure this isn't a trap first and then gratefully rub my achy wrist, caught off guard by his random niceness.
"I won't run." I say robotically, knowing he doesn't believe me one way or another.
"Mmm..." he hums thoughtfully, looking at me with a little too much interest. "Then you might have to give me a different reason to put those handcuffs back on you."
My eyes widen at his bluntness but it doesn't stop there.
"It's a good look."
His seemingly indifferent comment is laced with innuendo, a teasing tone and just general malicious intent.
He doesn't expect a response though, I guess, because he tosses the handcuffs off to the side on the bed and nods at me. "Get some sleep. Drunk passing out doesn't count."
...give me a different reason to put those handcuffs back on you...it's a good look...
Yeah. I would sleep except the second I close my eyes, all I'm gonna picture is what that would look like.
I pause for a second, swallow hard and then let my eyelids slowly slide shut.
Fuck. It's happening.