just pretend.

53.

Jisung's heart pounded in his chest as his eyes frantically scanned the room, searching for any sign of Seungmin. His gaze flitted from corner to corner, his pulse quickening with each second that passed without seeing him. “Where is he?” His voice came out as a low, dangerous growl, dripping with barely contained fury as Wooyoung shoved him toward Minho’s old bed. For a brief moment, memories flashed before Jisung’s eyes, overwhelming him. He remembered lying here with Minho, the warmth of his body pressed against his, the comfort of being wrapped up together, kissing softly, reading books under the soft glow of a bedside lamp. But this room that had once been a sanctuary was now tainted. Seungmin wasn’t here, and a cold dread gripped Jisung as his gaze landed on something dark – a small red stain on the floor. The sight of it sent a jolt of terror through him, freezing his breath in his throat. “Where is he?”, Jisung choked out, all pretense of calm shattered as panic surged through his veins. His voice trembled, eyes wide with fear. Wooyoung only snorted, leaning lazily against the doorframe, eyes fixed on Jisung with a cold detachment that made his skin crawl. “He really is a fierce little guy. I’ll give him that”, Wooyoung mused, his voice icy, like the sharp edge of a blade. “He fought, but not enough.” There was no remorse, no trace of humanity in his words – just the chilling tone of a man who had crossed the bridge to madness. Jisung’s chest tightened as Wooyoung's words settled in. “But don’t worry”, Wooyoung continued, a sickening smile stretching across his face, his eyes gleaming with something unhinged. “He’s alive, for now.” The sudden shift in Wooyoung’s tone sent shivers down Jisung’s spine. It was the brightness in his voice, that eerie, unsettling cheerfulness, that rattled Jisung the most. It was as if he were playing a game only he could understand, and Jisung realized then just how far gone Wooyoung was. He wasn’t just cruel; he was deranged. “Why?” Jisungs voice cracked, a mix of anger and disbelief. “Why are you doing this, Wooyoung? You could’ve just left! My father is in jail now. He gave you enough money to live anywhere you wanted.” Rage bubbled up inside Jisung, his fists clenching at his sides. He had once trusted Wooyoung, seeing him as a protector – someone he thought he understood, someone who kept his loved ones safe. But now, all he felt was fear. Fear of what Wooyoung had become. Wooyoung shrugged, that twisted grin never leaving his face. “Revenge is better than money.” Jisung swallowed, his throat dry, but before he could react, Wooyoung's iron grip clamped around his wrist, dragging him forcefully into another room. The guest room. His heart skipped a beat as he locked eyes with Seungmin. The sight of him made Jisung's stomach turn. Seungmin was slumped against the wall, his face a mess of bruises and dried blood. His lip was split, the skin on his temple swollen and purple, and he looked barely conscious, his breaths shallow. “Minnie”, Jisung gasped, his voice barely more than a whisper, horror and sorrow washing over him. The sight of Seungmin beaten and broken like this nearly tore him apart. This was Wooyoung’s doing. This is what he must have done to Minho before. The thought ignited a white-hot rage inside him, his entire body trembling with it. “You fucking bastard!” Jisung's voice exploded from him, raw and full of fury. Without thinking, he lunged at Wooyoung, driving his knee hard into his stomach. Wooyoung let out a surprised grunt, his grip loosening just enough for the gun to slip slightly in his hand. It was the opening Jisung needed. He reached for the gun, his fingers scrambling to rip it from Wooyoung’s grasp. But Wooyoung was stronger. Far stronger. Before Jisung could gain any real leverage, Wooyoung recovered, his eyes blazing with fury and madness. With a violent shove, Wooyoung slammed Jisung against the wall, knocking the air out of his lungs. Jisung gasped, his head spinning as Wooyoung pressed the cold barrel of the gun hard against his jaw. The metal dug into his skin, unyielding, as Wooyoung’s face hovered inches from his, his breath hot and filled with menace. Jisung’s heart raced wildly in his chest, his breath coming in ragged gasps as the gravity of the situation sank in. One wrong move, and it would all be over. He could feel the gun trembling against his jaw, Wooyoung's finger teasing the trigger. The only thing keeping him from collapsing was the fact that Wooyoung wanted him to watch Seungmin die, and he held onto it.