Stray Kids Ship Oneshots (BOOK 2 !)

152-Chansung: When The Table Rocks

Title: When The Table Rocks

Ship: Chansung

TW: torture, heavy gore, mentions of stalking

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The surface was metal. His wrists were clipped to the table, metal tightened around his bones down to the surface. His ankles too. It was cold against his skin, a cooling temperature in the dark room. Even when he opened his eyes, everything was dark. It messed with his brain, a panic spreading through his body before he could even comprehend the rest of his situation.

  It was safe to say, Jisung was scared.

  He turned to his head, he tried to get look elsewhere. To look for light. To be able to identify where he was, an answer.

  The panic was spreading. When it came to fight or flight, Jisung was a flight risk. He wanted to get up, he wanted to flee. He wanted to look for other surfaces, walls, maybe even a door. Yeah, a door sounded good. But his limbs only pulled at the metal holding him down.

  They were tight. Even attempting to turn his wrists at different angles caused pain. His bones dug into the metal each time he attempted to squirm free. He could feel the surface moving underneath him, just the smallest movement but it was there. A table, it had to be a table.

  "Wha—?" Jisung squeaked. He glanced down to look for his hands or his feet, but he couldn't see even himself. He was sure he was wearing a t-shirt and some baggy shorts, but it was hard to be sure without his sight.

  Jisung laid his head against the metal surface again and tried to think. What was the last thing he remembered? Where was he?

  A party. A stupid college party with his boyfriend and a few of their friends because why the hell not? Minho hadn't got drunk in awhile because of how focused he was on his classes, and Jisung wanted more than anything to spend more time with him again. It had been awhile.

  But whose house was it? How drunk had he gotten for him to end up like this? What even was this? He still wasn't sure. He didn't have any idea where he was or why he was strapped down to a table of some sort.

  Then a light flickered on. A lamp of some sort, just by the edge of the table by his feet. He bore down on him, the bright lightbulb flickering to the brightest it could be. Jisung had to flinch his eyes shut, squinting them open to let them adjust.

  A figure stood behind it, a hand on the head of the lamp as he looked down on Jisung. The light bounced off the table and illuminated the figure, the man, the familiar—

  Chan. It was Chan's house.

  Even though Jisung wasn't comfortable going to his ex's house, Hyunjin insisted it would be fine as long as they were all there. Chan couldn't do anything crazy if his boyfriend and friends were standing around him.

  But Minho was shit-faced and Hyunjin wondered off to dance with a random guy and he wasn't sure his other friends ended up doing but he was barely conscious when a guy he hardly knew started him dragging upstairs with sexual intent. Chan had stopped him and insisted Jisung sleep in his room—in his bed—until he was sober enough to leave. And Jisung let him drag him to his bedroom and tuck him in and place a goddamn kiss on his forehead before locking the door close. Because he was just as shit-faced as his boyfriend was.

  Chan was crazy. He had been crazy since the moment Jisung met him, because Chan knew everything about him before he even knew his name. He knew Jisung's favorite color, his favorite food, his order at Starbucks, his entire school schedule, his address, and his phone number. He had stalked him and it took Jisung four months to even put the pieces together.