Hostage {ℍ𝕐𝕌ℕ𝕊𝕌ℕ𝔾} -- DISCONTINUED

Chapter Eleven

It was 6:07 AM.

Jisung stared at the empty grounds from where he stood at his bedroom window, the nearest city lights still far off in the distance. The Hwang family manor was completely isolated, perched atop a high-rising plateau; it was a beautiful sight, even he had to admit it.

He'd had another nightmare – he wasn't one to fool himself into believing he'd ever be rid of this torture – and, now, more so than ever, his mind roiled and spun, thoughts weaving in and out too fast for him to keep up. There was too much going on, too much he had to think through for him to even attempt to go back to bed, not that his nightmares would let him get much more rest anyway.

His shoulder still ached with even the smallest of movements – he was getting really sick and tired of it, but at least it was healing, no matter how slowly – and there was no way in hell he'd walk around in the enemy's manor when he was still unable to defend himself fully.

It did get boring, though, staying in this room all of the time. It got lonely, too, but he refused to acknowledge that small whisper in his heart; he missed Jeongin and his pure, bright smiles and his eagerness to learn more and more every day.

It had been nearly three weeks since the shoot-out, and things had returned to normal. Or, well, as normal as it could possibly get when he was essentially a political hostage between two of the biggest gangs in Seoul.

He wondered what Jeongin was doing right then, the sadness weighing down on his chest dampening the happy thoughts he most likely would have had otherwise.

"He doesn't want to see you."

Although Jeongin's safety was his priority, it still stabbed a fresh wound in his already bleeding heart every time the words echoed inside his mind. Closing his eyes, he turned away from the window and the starry night sky, the sky that, to most, meant a universe of unending possibilities.

To him, they felt more like a mockery – proof of the shackles bound to him purely for who his parents were, ones that would never let him go.

Escaping this life wasn't possible; not for someone like him, anyway. His hands were already stained with the blood of people he'd killed, injured, robbed – he wasn't a good person by any stretch of the word, no matter how much his baby brother tried to convince him otherwise.

Jisung cared only for his little brother, and himself. Everyone else was irrelevant – he felt no remorse, no compassion for those who came across him, whether or not they got injured. He stared at the plain walls of his room, huffing.

He needed a distraction, and he needed one now.

It was light enough outside that the risk of getting attacked was low, and it was also likely that Hyunjin was awake by now, if his movements of the last few days – which Jisung had studied carefully – were any indication.

Walking across the room, he grabbed his jacket with his good arm, slipping into it as quickly as he could without hurting his shoulder more than necessary. He grumbled complaints under his breath; if he ever got his hands on who had shot him...

He frowned, suddenly remembering that Hyunjin must have been looking for their assailants – of course, he hadn't been included in the progress of the investigation, but that didn't mean he couldn't bother him about the details. His lips slowly spread into a mischievous grin.

He supposed he'd found his distraction.

~#~#~#~#~#~

Hyunjin had a study – he should've expected as much, really, but somehow it came as a bit of a shock to realize that he was the type of guy to have a neat, organized desk full of work things. He was beginning to wonder if it was just something gang leaders did. Once he became the head of the Han family, he wouldn't have a desk like that.

Break a few stereotypes on his way to beating people up in back alleys. What fun.

He stared at the mahogany door, so similar to his father's, ignoring the dread that swelled in his stomach at the mere sight of it, a trained response from the many times he'd been screwed over in a study just like this one.

He swung the door open without knocking, Hyunjin's head snapping up, eyebrows furrowed, from where he'd been bent over a stack of paperwork. Seriously, why did they always seem to be doing paperwork? What did they even have to do?

"What are you doing here?" Hyunjin snapped, frown marring his lips as he reluctantly set down his pen.

Jisung pouted – almost exaggeratedly so – as he swaggered into the room, plopping down on the end of Hyunjin's large desk, ignoring the way the said man's eye twitched. "What, is it that weird that I want to know how your little investigation is going?"

Hyunjin blinked at him before scoffing, shaking his head as he picked up his pen again. "None of your damn business."

Quirking a brow at him Jisung leaned even further against the desk, obscuring the meager light emanating from his lamp, the room still cloaked mostly in early-morning dimness. Hyunjin shot him a pointed glare, which Jisung paid no mind too, observing the dirt stuck beneath his nails. "Well, I think it is my business, considering I'm the one who got shot."

He looked up with a cocky smirk. "So, tell me what you got, Mr. Hwang." Hyunjin met his gaze for a few moments, eyes sliding away as he resumed whatever it was he'd been doing. So he was ignoring him, was he?

"Aw, you're ignoring me? That hurts my feelings, you know." Nothing. He peered over at the paper he was working on, a jumble of numbers he couldn't be bothered to even try deciphering. "Come on, I'm curious." Still nothing. "Pretty pleeeeeease?" His pen twitched as he gripped it harder, sprawling a jagged line across the neat paper.

His smirk widened. "Oi, Hyunjinnieeee, stop ignoring me." Finally, his eyes snapped up, narrowed in a deadly glare.

"If I tell you, will you shut the hell up?" He scowled, his pretty face contorted in irritation.

Jisung pursed his lips in contemplation, the edges still peeking up provocatively. "Maybe."

"I can always duct tape your mouth shut," the gang leader mumbled, words barely discernable, but Jisung still caught on, eyebrows raising.

"Ooo, kinky." The look Hyunjin shot his way would've been enough to make even the steeliest of men burst out laughing, and Jisung had to grip harder onto the desk to prevent himself from toppling over. His eyes were blown wide, mouth agape, stupefied at the words that had just escaped from his mouth, but most surprising of all was the flush that had spread across his neck and face.

He recovered moments later, face still flushed, but his eye was twitching now as he reached forward and chucked a thin folder at him, some of the papers spilling out over the desk. "That's all we've managed to find," he hissed, shoulders taut with tension. So there really wasn't all that much to know, was there?

Jisung picked up the folder and breezed across it distractedly before snapping it shut and slipping it under his arm. He hopped off the desk, winking at the still blushing gang leader, whose glare – as well as his cheeks – darkened significantly.

He sashayed out of the room, grinning mischievously to himself.

How cute.

A/N: And so starts my week of hell. At least I managed to write a chapter over the weekend for y'all, no promises for the rest of the week though I will certainly try. It'll probably take a little while longer for that Minsung fic I'm planning to get posted, but eventually, it'll be here. 

Tell me how your week is going!!

Lots of love,

~Emilie