querencia. [nomin/jaeno]

Emergency Contact

TW

"They are in today." Renjun spoke to the pink haired boy, biting his lip a bit.

The club was busy today, as if some sort of special performance had been going on, but if Jaemin could recall correctly there hadn't been one; it was just normal schedules today. Sweaty bodies surrounded the boys, Jaemin being on the verge of being used to it, but still finding it quite disgusting. He cringed every time someone snuck past him and managed to drag their arm along his back or bump into his shoulder.

Jaemin bit his lip as well as he heard of the managers being in, more nerves settling into his bones as he took the boys words in. He could barely handle being at the club in general, let alone when the most evil people had been there.

These men liked to pick on them when they were here, or more so go further. They had a thing for Jaemin, had a thing for touching him or throwing him around like he was some sort of rag doll. He was scared of them, and there was not much him or any of them could do, in fear they would be murdered.

Sometimes, Jaemin wondered if death was better than whatever this life was.

The pink haired boy nodded at Renjun's words, his face scrunching a bit in worry. The smaller boy raised a hand to pat Jaemin on the shoulder, muttering something about how it'll be okay, before returning to do whatever he was meant to do.

Everyday was the same, Jaemin danced on the stage and poles, or got paid extra to do private dances; which had honestly happened a lot. He usually had at least two a day, he's pretty sure he even remembers having as much as ten one day. He hated them, he hated when he had to go to a separate room and allow grimy men to touch him. It was sad he had to be grateful they weren't allowed to take his clothes off, or have intercourse with him.

Today, Jaemin walked towards the stage to begin his dancing, nerves settling deep within him. He knew he was a good dancer, and he always had a love for it, but it quickly vanished when he showed up to this place, being forced to dance for perverted eyes every single day.

The lights were blinding, the smoke on the stage filled his lungs as they did everyday, the music hurt his ears and he just wanted to leave and run away. He knew deep down if he ever tried that they would find him, and kill him.

It was attempted years ago, when Jaemin was still a young teen. Ten had tried to run away, he got so far with all of his things, he took routes that he was sure no one would find him. Only a days worth later he was found again, before he was threatened to be killed. He had somehow gotten out of it but was taken away for days to be punished. No one really knows what happened, he won't speak of it, but he had come back with bruises, welts, black eyes, a broken wrist.

Jaemin was terrified, he cried with Ten for months. He was scared for his older brother, but he was also scared for himself and the others. They would never have a chance to leave now, and he grew sick to his stomach with the idea of having to stay here any longer.

"Bend over, pretty boy!" A voice yelled.

The pink haired boy cringed internally, realizing he was spacing out and not exactly dancing. He glanced over at the audience, throwing on a fake smile before grabbing onto the pole and twirling his hips, getting a few whistles and howls.

He danced for what felt like forever, before it was finally time for him to take a short break, get some water or go to the washroom. Their breaks were about five minutes ever couple hours, if they were caught taking too many they would be punished.

Jaemin hopped off stage before walking over to the staff only rooms, taking a deep breath of courage which pretty much faltered, a hand coming up to rub at his chest. He blinked a couple times to try and clear his vision. The door squeaked open as he stepped in, and he quickly attempted to walk over to his bag of stuff.