kidnapper's protection | seongjoong

19

Seonghwa sat in the dimly lit living room, the night folding in around him like a heavy blanket. The windows were dark mirrors reflecting only his restless figure. He didn't dare turn on more lights. A strange kind of unease gnawed at him, and it wasn't just the fact that he was trapped here—it was the waiting.

His kidnapper hadn't come back yet.

Seonghwa's heart raced every time he heard the smallest sound—a car passing outside, the creak of the house settling. The quiet was suffocating, filling every crack and crevice in his mind with questions that spiraled out of control. Where is he? What is he doing? Why hasn't he come back yet?

He hugged his knees on the couch, his bare feet cold against the hardwood floor. The minutes dragged into hours, the clock ticking louder with every second, each moment without his kidnapper stretching his nerves thinner.

It felt ridiculous, how quickly he had grown used to the masked man's presence. As terrifying as it was, at least it was something—something familiar amidst all the unknowns. But now, the silence was louder than the man's quiet threats.

Seonghwa rubbed his arms, trying to stave off the chill settling in his bones. He'd already peeked through the windows several times—nothing. The world outside was peaceful, ordinary. It was as if nothing had changed, yet here he was, locked in a house, waiting for a criminal he couldn't understand.

He checked his phone again. No signal. Not surprising.

Seonghwa sighed, letting his head fall back against the couch cushions. Why do I feel like this?

He hated the way his mind kept looping back to his kidnapper. He should've been focused on escape—or at the very least, fear. But instead, a strange knot of emotions churned inside him—something between resentment, confusion, and...curiosity.

Stop thinking about him, he scolded himself. But it didn't help.

The door lock clicked, and Seonghwa sat up straight, his heart leaping into his throat. He's back.

The door opened slowly, and the familiar figure stepped inside, the dim light from the hallway casting him in shadow. His kidnapper moved with the same quiet confidence, closing the door behind him with a soft thud.

Seonghwa stayed frozen, watching as the masked man entered the house. He had taken off his jacket and draped it over a chair, leaving him in a fitted black shirt. For a moment, his kidnapper paused by the door, as if sensing Seonghwa's tension, then slowly turned toward him.

"You waited," his kidnapper said softly, the usual edge in his voice dulled.

Seonghwa nodded stiffly, his throat dry. "I...I didn't know where else to go."

His kidnapper studied him for a moment, his dark eyes unreadable behind the balaclava. Then, without another word, he began moving toward the hallway.

That was when Seonghwa made a decision. He didn't know what came over him—whether it was frustration or the gnawing need for answers—but before he could think twice, he stood up and followed the man down the hall.

His kidnapper stopped abruptly just outside what looked like his bedroom door. He turned slightly, and Seonghwa could feel the weight of those piercing eyes on him.

"Why are you following me?" the man asked, his voice low and calm, but carrying a dangerous undertone.

Seonghwa swallowed hard. "I...I wanna know who you are."

For a moment, the air between them was charged, the tension thick enough to choke on. Then, slowly, the kidnapper reached up and placed a hand on the edge of his balaclava.

Seonghwa's heart pounded in his chest, every nerve in his body screaming that this was a mistake.

The man pulled the fabric back just slightly—just enough for Seonghwa to catch a glimpse of the curve of his jaw, the hint of his lips—before stopping abruptly.

Seonghwa's breath caught. So close.

But then the kidnapper let the mask fall back into place, his hand dropping to his side.

"Not tonight," he said quietly, almost apologetically. "You're not ready yet."

Seonghwa's frustration bubbled to the surface. "Why? Why do you keep hiding?"

The man gave him a look that was almost...amused. "Because you still think you want to see me. You don't know what that means yet."

Seonghwa's hands curled into fists. "I've already lost everything. What more could you take from me?"

His kidnapper tilted his head, as if considering the question. Then he leaned in, close enough that Seonghwa could feel the warmth of his breath through the fabric of the mask.

"I could take away what little hope you have left," he whispered.

Seonghwa's breath hitched, but he didn't back away. Instead, he held the man's gaze, defiance burning in his chest.

"Then do it," Seonghwa whispered back, his voice steady. "Show me who you really are."

For a moment, his kidnapper said nothing, the silence between them stretching unbearably. Then, slowly, the man straightened and stepped back.

"Soon," he promised softly. "But not tonight."

Seonghwa clenched his jaw, watching as the man turned and disappeared into his room, the door clicking shut behind him.

Seonghwa stood there for a long moment, the tension still coiled tight in his chest. Then, slowly, he exhaled, releasing a breath he hadn't realized he was holding.

He returned to the living room, sitting back down on the couch with a heavy sigh. The house felt colder now, more suffocating than before.

The encounter left him with more questions than answers, and the frustration gnawed at him. But deep down, a part of him knew—this was only the beginning of whatever twisted game his kidnapper was playing.

And the worst part? Seonghwa wasn't sure if he wanted to win...or lose.