The Black rose (Minsung ff)

Stage one: denial

present

Jisung's mind felt like a maze with no way out, spiraling deeper into the tangled mess of his memories and emotions. Two weeks chained up in this room with no access to the outside world had left him drowning in his thoughts. His past, the trauma he'd buried, started clawing its way to the surface again.

He didn't want to think about it, but it was relentless.

It felt like he was 17 again. It was a cold, damp night. Jisung had been walking home from his part-time job, earbuds in, oblivious to the danger that lurked in the shadows. It happened fast — a van pulling up, arms grabbing him, a needle stabbing into his neck. He didn't even have time to scream.

The next thing he knew, he was in a dark, filthy warehouse. The smell of sweat and fear was thick in the air. Thousands of others were crammed in cages — children, women, men. All of them scared. All of them waiting for the same horrible fate.

Those words repeating in his mind, 97....98....99...

Jisung had felt hands grab him, rough and unforgiving, dragging him from the mass of terrified souls.

"100."

They were placed in cages, put on display for the highest bidder. Jisung was shaking, heart pounding in his chest, trapped like an animal. And then came the gunshot.

He remembered the smell of burning flesh, the pain that made him cry out.

"L.M.H."

Jisung woke up from the nightmare in a cold sweat, breath hitching in his throat. His head spun with the confusion of it all. He felt fear, gratitude, hatred, and something else—something far more dangerous. He felt affection for the man who once saved him but is now forcefully keeping him.

"Am I going insane?" he whispered, his voice barely audible in the darkness of the room.He touched the scar again, tracing the letters with trembling fingers. That mark was a reminder that he belonged to Minho, that he was nothing more than a possession in his twisted world. He Didn't know what exactly he meant to the older.

But the more he thought about it, the more he realized something horrifying: he didn't hate it. The power Minho had over him, the control, it terrified him, but it also... comforted him.

No. He shook his head violently, trying to snap himself out of it. He couldn't feel that way. He didn't feel that way. It was Stockholm syndrome. It had to be. Right?

But the longer he stayed chained up in this room, the harder it became to convince himself of that. He was losing his mind, and worse—he was starting to think that maybe he was falling in love with the man who had ruined him. That thought alone sent him spiraling.

"I'm not in love with him. I'm not. I'm not," he repeated to himself, the words coming out as frantic whispers, but each one felt like a lie.

---

At the HQ, Minho wasn't faring much better. His usual icy composure was cracking. The moment he'd found out about Jisung's escape attempt, something had snapped inside him. His precious princess had tried to leave him, and the thought of losing him drove Minho into a rage that was unlike anything his men had ever seen.

The day before, a small mafia had tried to trick him during a business meeting. Minho had seen right through their lies, and instead of handling it diplomatically, he snapped.

He went on a killing spree, one by one, taking out every single member of that family in a violent, bloody rage. The HQ was soaked in fear, his employees trembling, terrified of even breathing wrong in his presence.

Felix watched, wide-eyed, as Minho brutally dispatched the last man, blood splattered across his usually immaculate suit. Felix knew Minho had gone off the rails, and it wasn't just about the business. This was about Jisung.

"Hyung, you need to calm down," Felix said carefully, approaching Minho like one would a wild animal. "This isn't helping anything. You're only going to make it worse."

Minho's breathing was heavy, and for a moment, Felix wasn't sure if he would listen or lash out. But then, Minho's shoulders sagged, and he wiped his bloodied hands on his jacket, a hollow look in his eyes.

"He hates me now, doesn't he?" Minho's voice was quiet, but there was a sharp edge of vulnerability underneath. "He's never going to forgive me."

Felix didn't know what to say. The truth was, he didn't know what Jisung felt anymore. None of them did. But he couldn't let Minho continue down this destructive path.

"We don't know that," Felix said softly. "But you need to pull yourself together before you destroy everything."

---

present 

Back at the mansion, Jeongin slipped into Jisung's room, his face filled with regret as he saw the state Jisung was in—chained up, defeated, but still holding on.

"I'm sorry," Jeongin whispered, kneeling beside Jisung. "This wasn't supposed to happen. Minho hyung... he's never been like this. He's never cared about anyone the way he cares about you."

Jisung's head snapped up, eyes wide with disbelief. "Cares about me?" he croaked. "This isn't care. This is a prison."

Jeongin's eyes softened with understanding. "I know it feels that way, but Minho's losing his mind. He's scared, Jisung. He doesn't know how to show it, but he's terrified of losing you. He's never been this vulnerable."

Jisung's heart twisted painfully. He didn't want to care. He shouldn't care. But the truth was, hearing that Minho was suffering because of him... it made him feel something he wasn't ready to admit.

"I don't..." Jisung choked on his words, voice barely a whisper. "I don't know what to feel anymore."

Jeongin sighed, standing up and placing a hand on Jisung's shoulder. "Just rest, Jisung. Let yourself feel whatever you need to. I'll talk to him. We'll figure this out."

As Jeongin left the room, Jisung lay back down, staring up at the ceiling, his mind racing. Minho had saved him, ruined him, and now... now he didn't know if he could live without him.