MIL | YG [✔]

11. Beomgyu

"Stop watching the clock, Gyu." Soobin lay beside me, one eye on me, the other on his phone. "He isn't coming."

Yes. He. Was.

I kept telling myself that, repeating the mantra over and over again. The more I said it, the easier it became to breathe.

Ignoring Soobin, my eyes ticked in time with the analog clock hanging above his dresser. It'd been hours—four of them, and Yeonjun still hadn't come for me. The cuff secured around my ankle tore at my skin each time I moved, and the bones beneath my skin were slowly turning to lead. Soobin had only left my side to retrieve the food I refused to eat. Part of me regretted it, wincing each time my stomach rumbled, but I didn't trust those flat noodles weren't laced with another drug.

"Don't you have a country to serve? Since when does the military allow personal days?"

"Since I told them I got jumped by an anti-military hate group." Soobin wiggled his four fingers. "You get time off for things like that, Gyu. Mandated therapy and shit."

"I'm sure your therapist just loves you."

"My therapist is the man who shoved that needle into your thigh." He slapped me with two fingers. "Close your mouth, baby, and don't look so surprised."

I'd always had respect for the people who served my country, but I couldn't help but wonder how many were like Soobin—deranged and bitter, using the uniform as a way to mask the demented human that lay beneath it.

"It doesn't seem to have clicked for you yet, Gyu, so let me spell it out for you." Soobin rolled toward me, one lone finger trailing down my cheek. "You were in an abusive relationship with a wealthy man. I'm the Korean hero who saved you."

Barf.

"Is that what you told Bomin when you asked him to assist you in my kidnapping?" I swatted at his hand. "Junie has never hit me, Bin. That's just you."

"The sooner you come to terms with this, the sooner I can release you and we can get on with our lives." He captured the hand I used to swat at him, squeezing so hard I screamed.

Fuck.

Fuck.

Fuck.

Pain tore through my wrist as he crushed the small bones in my fingers, not stopping until my voice went hoarse, and I was actively choking on the tears that poured from my eyes.

"This is a military base, Gyu. There isn't a more secure place in the country than here. Even if he does come for you, he won't get inside. There is no car, no helicopter, no motorcycle, and no ID that will get him on this base. Short of digging a fucking tunnel, he's trapped out there and you're trapped in here. Forever."

He inspected my beaten hand, lips quirking as if he was pleased with what he'd done. "Give me a kiss, and I'll get you some ice."

I'd rather have a sore hand.

Through my tears, I studied the bruises as they surfaced, deep and ugly. My fingers moved when my brain willed them to, so I wasn't sure it was broken but it hurt bad enough that I tucked it into my chest protectively. Eyes closed, I counted each throb as my bones attempted to rip through my skin.

One.

Two.

Three.

Fou—

"You're terribly stubborn, Beoms." He fingered a lock of my hair. "What's wrong with your face? It's all red."

"It's a rash, Bin," I answered through my teeth. "A symptom of lupus. It means I'm flaring up. I need medicine."