・❥・ʙᴏᴏᴋ ᴛᴡᴏ ᴏꜰ ʙʟᴜꜱʜ ʙᴏʏ ꜱᴇʀɪᴇꜱ. Jung Wooyoung, known for his hot pink cosplay outfits, has blossomed with confidence thanks to his boyfriend, San. Enduring a time apart due to San's work, Wooyoung has held his own. But upon San's return, the dynami...
Trapped in the chilling darkness of the basement, the air thick with the smell of dampness and decay, every breath I took felt like an effort. Joon's rough hands shoved me into a corner where I stumbled and fell, pain radiating through my bruised body. As I struggled to sit up, a soft gasp escaped me, pain flaring up with every slight movement.
Joon moved around the small, enclosed space, his footsteps echoing ominously off the concrete walls. He watched me intently, a disturbing warmth in his smile that belied the cold cruelty of his actions. His eyes, unnervingly focused, seemed to pierce through the dim light, fixating on me as if I were his prey. I couldn't bear to meet his gaze and turned away, holding my breath, trying to minimize my presence.
The cold seeped through my clothes, damp from the dirty water on the floor, chilling me to the bone. I shivered uncontrollably, my body aching for warmth that the dank basement could not provide. As I lay there, I muttered prayers under my breath, hoping against all odds that San would come and rescue me from this nightmare.
"You don't realize my love for you, do you? You're my light. San doesn't deserve your love," Joon whispered chillingly as he knelt in front of me. His hand reached out, brushing against my cheek in a gesture that was meant to be tender but only invoked terror. I recoiled from his touch, disgust and fear mingling in the pit of my stomach.
"Don't touch me—I hope you rot in hell. I will never love you. San is the love of my life," I spat out, anger flaring within me despite my fear.
Joon's face twisted into a scowl, his grip tightening on my jaw, forcing me to face him. "Look me in the eyes. If he comes here and tries to take you away from me, I'll shoot you and me. He will have the memory of you dead," he growled, his voice filled with a menacing promise.
Using what little strength I had left, I pushed against him, managing to break free from his grasp. I scrambled back, putting as much distance as I could between us in the cramped space. My heart pounded in my chest, terror and desperation fueling my movements.
"Joon, this isn't love. You're obsessed and sick. You need help," I said, trying to reason with him despite knowing how futile it was. My back hit the cold, damp wall as I tried to edge away further.
Joon stood, his expression one of twisted pain and anger. "No one can love you like I do. You'll see, they won't understand us," he said, more to himself than to me, lost in his delusion.
I watched him warily, every muscle tensed for the next move. The sound of footsteps suddenly echoed from above, and Joon's head snapped up, a look of panic crossing his face. My heart leapt—could it be San?
