Ataraxia (SaeranxReader)

Wires

-Chapter 3: Wires-

"There are some souls that exist in the dark, forget the light, embrace the pain, and get rid of the desire to be saved."

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When I woke up with a terrible headache and opened my eyes, I realized that I was in a car. The sound of rain filled my ears. The car wasn't moving, so I blinked and looked sideways. With a cigarette in his hand, he was frowning as he watched the wipers cleaning the windshield of the car. I sighed heavily. Whatever medicine he gave me, my head was still throbbing. He hadn't tied my hands and legs, but my seat belt was on.

Seat belt!

One of the things you should pay attention to when kidnapping someone definitely should be their safety, right?

Is this guy stupid?

As my eyes adjusted to the surroundings, I turned my gaze back to my kidnapper. He had taken off his mask. And my breath caught in my throat at that moment. His mint green eyes, watching the rain with boredom, made me forget for a moment the danger I was in when I first saw him, and it already took my breath away. However, his whole face was even more beautiful than angels. Sacred, but also forbidden.

I watched how his lips gripped the cigarette as he brought his cigarette to his lips and took a long drag, and how the corners of his lips curved as he blew the smoke. At that moment, I realized that this man would be both my death and my resurrection.

"What do you want from me?" A broken, weak sound came from my lips. I don't know if he was more surprised that I had woken up or that I had chosen to speak instead of attacking him and trying to running away; but I could see his eyebrows raise in curiosity.

He turned his head to the side and stared at me with those mint green eyes while blowing off the smoke into the car.

"I don't know. What can you give me?"

If it weren't for the serious expression on his face, I might think he was just kidding, but he wasn't.

Mint green eyes were blank with the dark circles under them, not as dark as they had just before he injected me with the drug. But there was still some darkness in it.

I chose not to answer his question. Not because I didn't want to answer, but because I couldn't find a suitable answer. He didn't seem to care anyway, obviously he was bored because I ruined his plan, and we couldn't move because of the pouring rain, which probably doubled his boredom. Mint green eyes went back to watching the wipers. It turns out that the wipers cleaning the raindrops was more interesting than me. I agreed with him inside my head.

His long fingers, short nails are painted in black, moved rhythmically on the steering wheel, like drums. It wasn't like rhythm to music or for fun. It was like shaking our legs in times of stress. He was stressed, annoyed, because this little troublesome girl sitting next to him had probably ruined his plan that he had worked on for days. Those hands had caught me a few hours ago, stopped me from screaming, had the syringe plunged into my neck.

Why wasn't I trying to escape?

He asked me the same question as if he had read my mind. "Why don't you try to escape?"

The corners of his lips curled into a mocking grin. "I'm not saying you can run, of course, because you can't. Because I'll have injected the second syringe into your neck before you even act."

His eyes were looking at me as if they were supporting his words. He would do it without hesitation and I don't think he would even mind if the needle got stuck and broken under the skin of my neck.

"But I'd still like to see you try." ' he muttered, turning his gaze back to the window in front of us.

"I'm tired of trying to interfere with my fate and failing every time."

This time it was me who turned my gaze towards him. When he heard my voice again, he turned his head back to me. As our eyes locked, I noticed the pupils flickering for a moment, or was I just delusional?

"Trying to interfere with fate is for fools." he muttered, squinting at me defiantly. "This fucking world isn't fair to everyone."

Then he paused, took a last drag from his cigarette and throwed it out of the window. Rolling his eyes, he started the car again. The rain had stopped, and he muttered as he focused his eyes on the road.

"It was obvious how stupid you were before you were fooled by messages from an unknown app or an unknown person. Maybe you wouldn't be in this crappy situation right now if you hadn't used your tiny stupid brain of yours to try and trick me at the last momen-"

"Why didn't you kill me right there?" My sudden outburst had silenced him instantly.

It was his turn to be silent, as if it was my turn to speak. This time he didn't answer my question and I chose not to insist. It's like we changed roles. After a long silence, he muttered without taking his eyes off the road.

"I couldn't quickly dispose of your dead body."

I don't know if it was his tone or his quickness of speech, but I felt he wasn't telling the truth. It was a pass-through answer, as if to close the topic and get rid of the question.

I stopped asking questions when I saw that he didn't say anything else. I didn't even know where he was taking me, but eventually this car would stop somewhere. The moment I reached for the radio, his fingers quickly gripped my wrist in a harsh way, making me whimper with pain. He did it without taking his eyes off the road. As his fingers gripped my wrist, I felt like an electric current ran through my entire body.

"We're not on a fucking road trip, princess." he hissed. "Sit down like a good girl. We're almost there, you're annoying me."

I mumbled in a weak voice.

"Just one song. Please."

The fingers gripping my wrist trembled for a moment. I couldn't analyze him. He looks at me with hatred as if he wants to kill me for a moment, then acts as if he will cry behind my back for hours after he killed me.

When we stop at a red light, he stared into my eyes for a long time, trying to understand my intentions. Outsiders would think of it as a normal interrogation, but it was as if he was piercing my soul with his gaze. He was digging, looking for things that might be of use to him. After what seemed like an eternity, he let out a sigh of boredom and swung my wrist away.

"Just one song." he repeated with a harsh tone, like a warning.

Like a child who has finally found her favorite toy, I eagerly pressed the radio button. I felt him roll his eyes at my enthusiasm, but I didn't even care. The music slowly filled the car as I pressed the volume button.

"If he said help me kill the president,
I'd say he needs medicine.
Sick of screaming let us in,
The wires got the best of him.
All that he invested in goes,

Straight to hell
Straight to hell
Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa"