Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

￩￮￫◉￩￮￫

“I’m going to kill Keeho.”

Slowly, Jiung looks up from his laptop through mussed orange hair. “Elaborate?”

Sitting down heavily on Jiung’s ancient, sagging couch, Jongseob takes a second to pull off his heavy winter coat before continuing. “It wouldn’t be very hard. He’s not fucking careful.” Snorting derisively, Jongseob’s nose wrinkles. “He thinks people worship the ground he walks on. Heaven forbid someone dislike him, much less actually want to kill him.”

Quirking an eyebrow, lips pulling up slowly into one of his wide, slightly lopsided smiles, Jiung gamely says, “I know he’s a bit egotistical, but don’t you think you’re exaggerating?” When Jongseob scowls in his direction, the man lifts a hand. “Besides, ‘occasionally annoying’ doesn’t equal stupid.”

“Alright, but he wouldn’t see it coming.” Settling on the couch, Jongseob folds his hands between his knees. “Because I’m a friend, right? Or at least I’m adjacent to a friend. He knows me, you don’t ever expect it from someone you know.”

“Right, of course,” Jiung gives a little nod before glancing back down at his screen. “So what, are you going to show up at his house and stab him?”

“No, I wouldn’t do it at his house.” Jongseob’s mouth twitches. “He knows the layout of that place way better than I ever will, and besides, he’s got a dog. Even if it doesn’t attack me, I don’t want to risk hurting it. The dog never did anything wrong.”

“True,” Jiung concedes, surreptitiously grabbing the remote so he can turn down the music he’s had blaring. “Mandu is a sweetheart, she doesn’t deserve that.”

“So I’d have to do it somewhere else. Preferably somewhere private, so no one tries to stop me.” Pausing, Jongseob allows, “Keeho might try to stop me, if he realizes what’s happening in time, but let’s be serious here, I could physically overpower him.”

“Not difficult.” With a small little laugh that’s pushed out through his teeth, Jiung says, “I could probably overpower him, and I’m built like a twig.”

“I figure I’d do it outside,” Jongseob continues, ignoring Jiung’s commentary. “Preferably somewhere that’s exposed to the elements. Gives me the best chance of the blood washing away, even though I know it’s not that easy.”

Curiously, Jiung leans forward, all interest in what’s happening on his laptop forgotten. “Do you have a place in mind?”

“Considering how often he goes out at night, pick a fucking club.” Lifting a hand, Jongseob starts listing off places, the disgusted pinch of his face worsening as he goes. “La Boom, Vanity, The Library, Axis-”  

“He only goes to Vanity if he’s with a group of friends,” Jiung notes, with a knowing little wiggle of his fingers. “So probably not that one.”

“Fine, not there.” Jongseob puts down a finger. “But he goes to La Boom on Saturdays and he reliably goes to Axis every Wednesday. Both of those are downtown and both of those places have the worst parking lots imaginable. Literally once I’ve got him out there, no one is going to see or hear shit. And even if they do, he’s leaving those places at like two in the morning. Anyone still awake is going to be too drunk or too tired to help.”

“Would you use a gun?” Like he finds this whole thing hilarious, Jiung’s eyes gleam in the glare of his computer screen. “Your family’s got a few of those, yeah?”

“Two, I think, but I’m going to be honest, that sounds like a nightmare and I’d rather not implicate either of them.”

“Fair enough.”

“No, I’d probably use a hunting knife,” Jongseob muses. “Big enough to do damage, small enough to hide it. I’m not going to pretend like I’m an expert so it’d probably take a couple stabs, but that’s fine. It’d get the job done. He’d die quick enough he wouldn’t be able to scream.”

Pursing his lips together, like that’ll hide his amusement, Jiung asks, “Not going to drag it out?”

“It’d take more planning than it’s worth.” Jongseob shakes his head. “Satisfying? Maybe! But then I’m looking at seven or eight more steps. Getting him somewhere secluded, either gagging him so he can’t yell or doing it where no one will hear him, keeping him from fighting back, dealing with the extra clean up… It’s easier to just kill him and be done with it.”

“Remarkably restrained,” Jiung says, as he pops out his single earbud. He doesn’t even bother putting it back in its case, he just sets it on the side table and instantly turns his attention back to Jongseob.

Blinking, taken out of his own thoughts for a moment, Jongseob squints first at the TV that still has music playing from it and then at Jiung. “Wait, aren’t you already listening to something?” 

“Yes, but not the issue here.” Leaning forward pointedly, Jiung makes an expansive gesture for Jongseob to continue. “Are you going to leave his body there?”

“It’d be less of a hassle,” Jongseob admits, focusing on the conversation once more. “But if I want to be smart about it, and I’m trying to be, I’d probably have to hide the body, or at least dump it somewhere. I could pick up a tarp at the hardware store; some rope while I’m at it. They’ve probably also got gloves. I’ll need those too.”

“You could bury him in the woods,” Jiung suggests. “It’d be a bit of a drive, but it wouldn’t be impossible to find some trees.”

“No.” Furrowing his brows, Jongseob chews on the question for a bit. “We’ve got plenty of rivers, and driving all the way into the middle of bumfuck nowhere for this feels stupid if it’s going to give me about the same results.”

“Where would you dump it?”

“Probably off that bridge on Scioto road.” Looking off to the side, where the windows display the dreary, January weather, Jongseob says, “It’s been too cold for anyone to go out boating, so I doubt anyone would see me do it. Plus it’s the middle of winter. If I tie a brick to him, the chances of the body surfacing before summer are next to none.”

Tipping his head back and forth, Jiung extrapolates, “So you’d do it soon.”

“Relatively soon.” Carefully, Jongseob mulls over his options. “It’d depend on a few variables, but like I said, he’d never expect me of all people to kill him. And he posts religiously on his socials, I don’t even have to follow him to know exactly where he is. All I’d have to do is find out which club he’s going to what day and wait. So… The tenth at the earliest, with the option of putting it off until the thirteenth.”

“Simple, but effective.”

“That’s the idea,” Jongseob mutters. “It’s Keeho, he doesn’t deserve something flashy. Or graceful. Getting stabbed in the back of an alley and dumped in the river is so much more fitting.”

“Alright alright, I gotta ask,” Jiung says, sitting up properly and turning his music the rest of the way down. “What’s he done this time to get you all wound around the axle.”

Briefly, a flash of white hot anger threatens to thaw Jongseob’s cold, focused rage. Almost instantly, he brings himself back to heel. “Want to guess?”

Sucking on the inside of his cheek, Jiung ventures, “Shota?”

Jongseob’s smile is thin and ugly. “How did you know.”

Whistling through his teeth, Jiung admits, “I thought he and Keeho weren’t talking. Or… whatever we were calling it.”

“Oh they weren’t!” Jongseob assures Jiung. “It was great! Or fucking terrible. I don’t know.” Making a disgusted sound under his breath, he runs a hand through his hair. “A month, Jiung. A month. Longer! I think we were at like six weeks! Not a fucking word out of him. You know, I’d almost managed to convince Shota he really wasn’t going to text again. I was this close.”

Glancing at Jongseob’s pinched fingers, Jiung’s mouth pulls sympathetically. “If it helps, I wasn’t the person to talk Keeho into messaging him, man. You know I wouldn’t get involved like that.”

“No, I know you didn’t,” Jongseob grumbles, dropping his head. “Probably no one did, Keeho probably just decided that shit on his own!” Making a pained sound, he rubs at his scalp. “Six weeks, and now Keeho’s hitting him up like ‘heyyyyy’ as if he didn’t fucking ghost him without warning. Again.”

“Tell Shota to tell him no,” Jiung says, with a little shrug. “Can’t be that hard. All he’s gotta do is say ‘actually Keeho, I’m not interested’ and Keeho will leave him alone. He’s a bit of a bitch sometimes, but he knows what boundaries are.”

“There’s the problem!” Jongseob announces, sitting bolt upright. “Shota doesn’t! He has no fucking concept of how unfair this situation is or how pathetic he’s been acting. He just knows that he likes Keeho and any attention from him is better than nothing.”

Grimacing, Jiung looks away. “I mean when you put it like that-”

“It fucking sucks.” Staring at Jiung, like he’ll be able to beam the bad thoughts directly into the man’s mind if he tries hard enough, Jongseob stresses, “It’s been three years, Jiung. I’ve been dealing with this shit for three years. I don’t think Shota knows what giving up is, let alone how to do it. And the result is I have to clean up the mess after Keeho gets cold feet and fucks off again.”

Waving a hand, Jiung carefully asks, “Have you tried… explaining that to Shota?”

“Yes.” Drooping, Jongseob heaves a sigh. “Basically every time this happens. And it doesn’t change a damn thing. He still- still cancels plans we’ve had for two months just because Keeho said he was free tonight and wanted to do dinner. How the fuck am I supposed to fix that? What magic word am I missing that’s going make Shota let it go.”

“There’s only so much you can do man.” Jiung sounds genuinely apologetic. “Some people get fixated and don’t know how to un-fixate.”

“Which is why I’m going to have to kill Keeho.” Eyes drifting unseeing over Jiung’s living-room, Jongseob flatly says, “I’ll stab him, dump him in the river, and then Shota will be able to get over him, because he literally won’t be a problem anymore.”

Pausing for a moment, Jongseob admits, “I probably won’t get away with it. I’m good, but I don’t know if I’m ‘getting away with murder’ good. But… I think it’s a fair trade. At least Shota will be able to move on with his life if Keeho is dead.”

Pursing his lips, Jiung closes his laptop with a snap before saying, “Okay, hear me out,”

Jongseob’s left eyebrow twitches up.

“We kidnap Keeho instead.”

It’s a bizarre way of making Jongseob feel better, but he has to admit, Jiung’s absolute non-sequitur does distract him somewhat from the all-consuming anger. Leaning back, settling somewhat on the couch, he gamely asks, “And?”

“You’ve got a pretty good start for how to do it,” Jiung insists, pushing his computer off his lap and onto the coffee table. “Like you’re right, if it were you and I, Keeho would never see it coming. He’s not dumb but he’s trusting. And I’ve known him for years now. If I pop up in a parking lot in the middle of the night, he’s going to be happy to see me, not scared.”

“Which makes it easy to stab him,” Jongseob concludes, with a pointed tilt of his head.

“Yes, but no.” Jiung holds up a finger. “I’d need to get my hands on some sedatives, but that’s not actually as hard as it sounds. Then all we need is a syringe and a little bit of finesse. Hell, we could even leave out the sedatives! I bet you could hit him hard enough to knock him out.”

“Probably,” Jongseob agrees. “Like I said, he’s not weak but in a fight I’m still winning.”

“So we knock him out,” Jiung says conversationally, a grin starting to overtake his face once more. Without the light of his laptop, the gleam in his eyes is subdued, but that somehow makes what remains that much more unsettling. “Zip tie him, stuff a rag in his mouth, load him into the backseat. Because no one is going to question finding Keeho’s hair in my backseat, he rides there all the time.”

“Where would we take him?” Jongseob wonders, not entirely following but still feeling better than he did when he first sat down. “There aren’t many places you can just keep a whole human being.”

“My basement, obviously.” Dismissing the question like it was a stupid one, Jiung starts struggling to free himself from his mound of blankets, all in various garish patterns of indoor mini-golf carpeting. “It’s out of the way, it’s big, there’s like maybe one window maximum, and it’s basically soundproof. Plus, I’m not using it for anything. Like who is going to go down there.”

Realizing that he hasn’t been down to Jiung’s basement in the three years since he got to college, Jongseob gives him a grudging nod. “Alright, but what are we going to do with him. Why are we kidnapping him in the first place.”

Making a face like the answer should be obvious, Jiung says, “To get Shota a boyfriend, why else?”

Opening his mouth, Jongseob stares at the man for a moment before muttering, “I think you’re going to need to elaborate.”

“Gladly.” Popping up from his seat, Jiung half dances to the other side of his living room and throws on the overhead light. A couple hops later, he’s behind Jongseob and rolling a white board out from around the bookshelf. Blinking, Jongseob spends a second wondering how and why and I’ve never seen that thing before? before the man starts talking again, effectively distracting him.

“You want to kill Keeho, and I get it, I really do.” Fumbling with a dry-erase marker, Jiung waves in Jongseob’s general direction before starting to frantically scribble on his white board. “Usually I’d be all for the murdering thing, but let’s be brutally honest with ourselves; you aren’t getting away with that shit.”

“I’ll do the time in prison,” Jongseob says at once. “It’s fine, I’ve made peace with myself already.”

“Yeah, but if you go to prison for killing Keeho, Shota will lose his best friend and the guy he’s into. Which is just a bad time for him across the board.” Shaking his head emphatically as his marker squeaks and squeals, Jiung continues, “However, if we kidnap Keeho instead, we can use some good old-fashioned Stockholm syndrome to convince him that actually, dating Shota is the bestest possible thing ever, and then everyone can be happy.”

“Right, and that’s totally going to work,” Jongseob says doubtfully.

“Oh it might not.” Stepping back from whatever he’s been writing, Jiung taps the surface with the plastic part of his pen. “I’m not saying we need to take killing him off the table, I’m just saying we aren’t quite there yet. We’re at plan C. Captivity. If that doesn’t work, then we can move to plan D. Dismemberment.”

Noticing that indeed the man has written this down, Jongseob gives a slow, somewhat hesitant nod. “I see. Did I… miss the other plans?”

“Well plan B was backup,” Jiung says, leaning back in and scribbling said plan in above his heavily underlined ‘plan C’. “Which has what we’ve been doing. Your idea of playing wingman is a little unorthodox, I’ll give you that. Constantly telling someone they can do better and that they should ditch their crush isn’t how most people go about it, but it was back up of a kind.”

“And the rest of you have been helping how?” Jongseob wonders, eyebrows pinching.

“Oh come on, you haven’t noticed?” Shaking his head, Jiung says, “Remember Intak getting them those tickets to the zoo last summer? And what about all the dates Taeyang has tried to set them up on. And I for sure locked them in a room together at least once.”

“That was you?” Jongseob demands, sitting bolt upright.

“Duh.” Jiung rolls his eyes. “Now I’ll admit, I didn’t think Shota was going to be that good at picking locks, but that’s our little guy for you, he’s just a wealth of surprises.”

Pulling a face, Jongseob attempts to redirect the conversation. “Fine fine, so you guys have been trying to set them up. What was plan A?”

Leaning back in, Jiung writes as he talks. “Plan A was observe.”

Doing the math in his head, Jongseob frowns. “Observe doesn’t start with an A.”

“Focus!” Jiung jabs at him with his pen. “The point is, letting them naturally get together didn’t work, and trying to tip the scales didn’t work either. Which means we’re going to have to take some necessary measures if we want Shota to finally get the boyfriend of his dreams.”

Necessary measures is certainly a way to talk about kidnapping someone, but considering the fact that Jongseob was talking about when and where and how to murder Keeho a moment ago, he decides not to complain. “I’m still a little unclear on how we can ‘stockholm syndrome’ him into wanting to date Shota. Wouldn’t holding him against his will make Keeho less cooperative instead of more?”

“See, you’re not thinking outside the box on this one.” Erasing the white board with a sleeve, Jiung writes Keeho in the center of the blank space before circling it a couple times. “We put him in the basement, right? And then we take away everything from him. I’m not just talking about his phone and hair gel, I’m talking bed, chairs, tables, access to running water, access to regular meals, light.”

As Jiung scribbles, Jongseob imagines it. Admittedly, it gives him more than a little satisfaction to imagine Keeho, sunken eyed and miserable, huddled up on a concrete floor. That being said- “Still not seeing how Shota factors into this.”

“Let me finish.” Circling the little list he just made, Jiung writes his own name as well as Jongseob’s, then draws an arrow from the circle to them. “Obviously, in these circumstances, everything bad that’ll be happening to Keeho will be coming from us, yeah? So we’ll be playing the villains.” He writes the word ‘villain’ in bold, janky letters. “The bad cops, if you will. The ones who make his life miserable. Meanwhile Shota-” He quickly writes the man’s name down on the other side of the board. “Will be directly tied to any good thing Keeho gets back.”

“Right…” Sucking in a breath through his teeth, Jongseob says, “I’m still lost.”

“It’s basic psychology. We’re pavloving him, but like, worse.” Circling Keeho’s name several more times, Jiung explains, “The trick will be to get him to associate bad behaviors with physical and mental discomfort. And then in the same way, we’ll get him to associate Shota with that discomfort lessening. Kind of like training a dog, only a human.”

It… doesn’t not make sense. There’s no way in hell it’d work, but Jongseob supposes if he suspends his disbelief a little, the logic starts to become apparent. “And we just keep doing this until… what, until he’s in love with Shota?”

“I mean, that’d be the goal, right?” Scribbling the word freedom at the top of his white board, Jiung makes a little sparkle effect around it. “I’m not going to keep Keeho forever, that’s just unreasonable. I need my basement back eventually. But for six months, maybe a year? Less unreasonable. And once he’s happily dating Shota?” The man shrugs. “Then we can let him out.”

Dubious, Jongseob tips his head to the side. “I feel like telling Keeho ‘date Shota or you’re never getting out of here’ would be a little counter-productive. He’s just going to fake it.”

“Come on, we wouldn’t tell Keeho that’s what we’re doing, that’d be just stupid. He’s got to figure it out on his own! Again, carrot and stick. Eventually, he’s going to start making decisions that bring him closer to Shota if only because everything else he does makes his life worse.”

“You do realize Shota’s in love with Keeho, right?” Jongseob clarifies. “This doesn’t sound like it’ll make Keeho fall in love.”

“No,” Jiung allows. “But if we play our cards right, whether Keeho’s in love or not won’t matter because he’ll become so psychologically dependent on Shota that he won’t be capable of functioning without him. And once that happens, he wouldn’t dare say or do anything that risks sending his precious boyfriend to jail. Which means we can let him go.”

Well, he’s got a point there. A batshit insane point, sure, but that doesn’t make it any less valid. Scrunching his nose, Jongseob asks, “And if it doesn’t work and he still won’t date Shota?”

Scribbling a big X through Keeho’s name, Jiung announces, “Then we kill him. Don’t worry, I know a guy.”

“You do.”

“Okay, I know a guy who knows a guy. Last I heard he specialized in body removal services. And the family owes me a favor so we won’t even have to pay for it.” Smiling freezing, Jiung suddenly starts patting around his pockets. “Speaking of which, I bet they’d help with the kidnapping too, if we asked. They’ve been known to kidnap people on occasion.”

Jongseob stares hard at Jiung. “On occasion?”

“Frequent occasion. A few times here and there when it’s needed.” Jiung yanks his phone out of his pocket. “Fine, like once every couple weeks. But it’s fine, don’t worry about it. That just means they’re professionals.”

Jiung’s holding his phone like he’s intending to call someone. Jongseob has to admit, as a bit, it’s pretty good. He’s definitely not thinking about killing Keeho anymore, at least, not as seriously as he was before. Which is precisely why he went to Jiung in the first place. He needed someone to talk him down and not throw his life away over a man. Especially not a man like Yoon Keeho. 

The phone starts ringing.

Bringing himself back to the present, Jongseob pushes out a laugh. “Y’know, I gotta hand it to you, you make it sound like you had this planned out a while ago.”

“Who doesn’t have a plan to kidnap someone in their back pocket,” Jiung dismisses. “But thank you, I made it myself. Obviously it’ll need some fine-tuning but- oh hi Sijun!”

It takes Jongseob a moment to realize Jiung’s call just connected.

“How are things? How’s the boyfriend, how’s your brother?” Nodding along to whatever the person on the other side of the line- presumably Sijun- is saying, Jiung starts pacing in neat little lines in front of his white board. “Great, glad to hear that. Oh, I’m doing finnneeeee.”

Slowly going still on the sofa, Jongseob stares at Jiung. He… He was kidding, right? Like I know I was a little bit serious, but that was all a joke.

Right?

“Oh, I graduated a few years ago buddy, you’re out of the loop.” Pausing, Jiung hums under his breath and says, “Listen, loving the small talk, but I’m actually calling to cash in a favor.” Another pause. “Yes I know you don’t owe me a favor, but your family owes me a favor. That’s basically like you owing me a favor.”

Suddenly a little nervous, Jongseob tries to get Jiung’s attention with a little wave. If the man sees it, he ignores it.

“Look, your mom said if I needed something, I should just get in touch… No I’m not going to talk to your mom. Frankly, Hocheol scares the shit out of me.” As he reaches one end of the little loop he keeps making, Jiung stops before wilting dramatically. “Man, I didn’t call you to argue about your mom, okay? I called you to cash in the favor.”

“Jiung,” Jongseob says quietly, as he realizes how quickly this is about to spiral out of his control. “Hey, I think we should-”

Gesturing for Jongseob to shut up, Jiung starts pacing again. “Luckily for you, I actually need you to put me through to Sukyoung!” A sudden, dramatic wail leaves the man’s mouth. “What do you mean he’s on vacation, he doesn’t take vacations.”

Oh my god he’s serious. He’s actually serious. “Jiung,” Jongseob tries again, a little louder this time. “Dude-”

“Shhh,” Jiung hisses, pulling the phone away from his mouth, before quickly going back to speaking to Sijun. “Fine okay, he’s on vacation. When is he getting back?” Another interesting face. “The thirteenth? Fuck, well I guess that’ll work, it’s not exactly time sensitive.”

“Jiung can we hold on a minute!” Jongseob all but barks.

Inevitably, Jiung’s reaction is a swift, intense stare, before he’s smiling at his phone once more. “Oh, it’s not that crazy, we just need him to kidnap someone. Or even just to help us kidnap someone… No no, we’ve got somewhere to keep him, we just need help with carrying him, possibly some sedatives. Maybe if we could put in for some evidence removal, that’d be swell.”

Stunned at the words leaving Jiung’s mouth, Jongseob briefly considers tackling the man and taking his phone, before just as quickly deciding against it. This has to be a prank. He’s playing with me. There’s no way he has someone he can just call to help him plan out a kidnapping. Jiung’s just fucking with me.

“Well look, just give him a call when he gets back. Or text me his phone number and I’ll call him myself. I promise not to make a nuisance of myself.” Pausing, Jiung’s face splits into a grin as he laughs. “I can’t help it! It’s in my nature- yeah, it’s good to hear you too. We’ll have to talk another time. Catch up and shit, you know.”

Eyes slowly traveling to the white board, now covered with Jiung’s nigh illegible chicken scratch, Jongseob slowly plays back the last half-hour since he first walked through the front door. He’d really really like to believe that all of this is fake. That Jiung isn’t on the phone with- fuck- the mob maybe, but he doesn’t think that’s the case. Because when he runs through their ‘plan’, he realizes that at no point did Jiung give any indication he was joking.

More importantly, he doesn’t seem to be joking now.

“Right, well I’ll let you go then. Thanks for picking up.” Jiung’s eyes crease up into crescent moons. “Byeee.” The moment he’s pulled the phone away from his face, he’s turning on Jongseob. “Could you not see that I was on the phone?”

“You’re serious,” Jongseob says weakly.

Jiung freezes. “Weren’t you?”

“I-” Shutting his mouth for a second, Jongseob just stares at Jiung. When he gets an impatient gesture to continue accompanied by a mildly unsettling smile, he forces himself to start talking again. “I mean yeah, I kind of do want to kill Keeho for real, but like… You were supposed to talk me out of it or- or something.”

“I did talk you out of it,” Jiung says; slowly, like he’s trying to be sure Jongseob understands him. “We aren’t going to kill Keeho, we’re going to kidnap him. There’s a difference.”

“Kidnapping is illegal,” Jongseob stresses.

“Okay, well; first degree murder, kidnapping, either way we’re dying in prison.” Jiung shrugs. “If we’re going to bother doing this, we might as well attempt to go about it in a way that gets Shota a boyfriend.”

Pursing his lips, Jongseob looks down at the coffee table, where Jiung’s closed laptop still sits. The man is right, that was what they were talking about, but it’s one thing to say it and another thing to face the fact that it’s a possibility. Would it even work? Then again, killing Keeho definitely won’t get them anywhere other than a court room. So maybe a chance of something else is better than nothing.

 Seeming to take some measure of pity on Jongseob, Jiung reaches a conciliatory hand into his line of sight. “Hey, if you don’t want to do this, we can still back out. Sijun probably won’t call Sukyoung for another few days, and it’ll take until at least after the thirteenth before we can act on anything. I’m not going to force you to kidnap someone with me, man.”

It shouldn’t be a difficult question.

As he sits there, Jongseob finds himself remembering the first time Shota met Keeho. Three years ago now, though he thinks it’s been even longer. It’d happened in this very living room, actually. At the welcome-to-college party Jiung had insisted on throwing Jongseob and Shota the moment they’d shown up. 

They’d all been friends, back in their hometown. Jiung was the cool older kid who tolerated their presence because Shota liked anime too and Jongseob had been going through the exact same emo phase he was. Meeting back up in college had been equal parts intentional and a happy accident, but none of them were complaining, especially since they all still kept in touch, and Jiung’s parents had bought him a no kidding house down near campus. 

Sure, Jongseob hadn’t known the rest of the people Jiung invited to the welcome party, but he’d been having a good time. There’d been food, there’d been alcohol he definitely wasn’t old enough to drink, and there’d been Shota, glued to his side as always. You really couldn’t ask for anything more than that.

And that’s when they’d run into Keeho.

He’d been a friend of a friend of a friend. At the time, Jiung had still been rooming with Taeyang and Intak. Keeho had been friends with Taeyang, and therefore had been grandfathered into the guest list. And god had he been annoying.

Vaguely, Jongseob remembers spending a non-zero amount of time at the party hoping he never had the displeasure of running into the man again. He was loud, he was full of himself, he was kind of a bitch, and his first words to Jongseob had been a thinly veiled critique of his choice in shoes. Exactly the kind of person Jongseob couldn’t stand.

Unfortunately, when he and Shota had left to walk back to their dorm, Jongseob had said, so what do you think about Keeho, and the first words out of Shota’s mouth were, I think I’m in love with him.

The rest is just three years of infuriating history. Three years of Keeho stringing Shota along, giving him just enough to stay absolutely infatuated, but always backing down the moment it went anywhere serious. And sure, that kind of made sense when they were freshmen. Shota had still been seventeen. Keeho was already in grad school. That was just him avoiding jail bait. Jongseob could almost excuse that.

But he’d never given Shota an outright no. And even after the man had officially become legal, Keeho hadn’t made a definitive move either way. One moment he’d shower Shota with attention and affection, dragging him on dates and snuggling with him on the couch until all hours of the night, the next, Keeho would leave Shota on read for days- sometimes weeks- at a time. It’s infuriating.

More than that though, it’s sad to watch. Jongseob adores Shota, would do anything for his best friend. But here, where the man arguably needs him most, he’s powerless to do anything but watch from the sidelines and pray to god Shota just gives up.

He hasn’t. Despite everything, he hasn’t.

This most recent example of Keeho ghosting Shota only to hit him up again when the mood finally strikes isn’t the first time he’s done it, but it is the most extreme. It was a full no contact, no excuses, ignoring DMs and not reading text messages nearly month and a half long stretch of silence. And as terrible a friend as it might make him, Jongseob had been hoping it would last.

And yet here they are, yet again. With Shota skipping out on the movie premier Jongseob and him had been planning for ages to see, all so he could arrange a cute dinner date and visit to the arcade after with Keeho, just because the man had texted him out of the blue yesterday. Call Jongseob jealous all you want, but he’s tired of this. He’s tired of seeing his friend get yanked around for nothing.

Hence the murder plot. If he kills Keeho, Shota can mourn the relationship he never had, and then move on. Something that’ll be leagues better for him than pining uselessly for another indeterminate number of years.

“Jongseob-” Jiung sing-songs, bringing him back to the present. “I kind of need to know this now, not later. Are you in, or are we out? I’m not going to judge you either way, but you can’t be waffling.”

Inhaling, Jongseob’s eyes wander once again to the white board. The plan is insane, the goal is insane, the amount of work it’s going to take is insane. And to top it all off, he doesn’t even know if he wants Keeho to date Shota. There are better guys out there, he thinks, as he stares at the X through Keeho’s name.   Shota can do better. He deserves to do better.

Besides, his own thoughts of murdering Keeho aside, is being a bit of a douchebag really a heinous enough sin to justify this?

Opening his mouth, intending on putting those thoughts to words in some way or another, Jongseob's phone buzzes twice, distracting him. Quickly stuffing his hand into his pocket, he yanks out the device and stares at it, ignoring the way Jiung attempts to do the same from upside-down.

From: ☆ Soul ★ [6:48 PM, Friday]

To: Jongseob

Keeho left early :;(∩´﹏`∩);:

From: ☆ Soul ★ [6:48 PM, Friday]

To: Jongseob

(-̩̩̩-̩̩̩-̩̩-̩̩̩_-̩̩̩-̩-̩̩̩-̩̩)

Jongseob’s hand tightens around his phone.

“Right,” he mutters. “Kidnapping it is.”

“Good man.” Jiung claps his hands together. “I’ll start clearing out that back room in the basement.”

￩￮￫◉￩￮￫

Chapter Text

￩￮￫◉￩￮￫

“So here’s how this is going to go.”

Jongseob stares unseeing at the unknown phone number displayed on Jiung’s dash. Currently, the two of them are making their way through downtown, courting what little traffic is out at one in the morning on a chilly Wednesday in January. Jiung’s in the driver’s seat, sugary drink in one hand while his fingers beat out a staccato rhythm on the wheel. The windows keep fogging up every time they so much as breathe. And from the car’s bluetooth, a voice Jongseob has become remarkably familiar with in the past two days blares out at them.

“You’re going to park as close to the alley behind North Wall Street as you can. Avoid the parking lot. There should be a bad bulb on one of the street lamps, you want to be under that.”

Sukyoung, despite his jovial tone and theatrical way of presenting information, seems to be the kind of guy who knows what he’s talking about. Admittedly, Jongseob doesn’t know him. He only spoke to the man for the first time two days ago, and they haven’t really bothered to chat. But at least when it comes to federal crimes, apparently, the man is reliable.

“Obviously if someone’s stolen that spot in the next… seven minutes, then you’ll need to park elsewhere, but there should be room if you kinda squeeze up near the cold pressed juice place.”

It’s a plan Jongseob has heard several times over in the past couple days. The details feel so familiar, he could recite them in his sleep. Not that he’s going to be getting any sleep tonight. Or… the night after that, probably.

“There’s going to be a guy waiting for you. Be friendly, remember to smile. Just avoid sudden movements!”

Tuning back in somewhat at that, Jongseob squints at the dash. “What happens if we do make sudden movements.”

“I just told you not to,” Sukyoung says, like he thinks Jongseob is a little stupid.

Jongseob frowns. “Humor me.”

“I wouldn’t worry about it,” Sukyoung dismisses breezily. “We’ve had very few unintentional fatalities.”

“See, it’ll be fine.” Glancing away from the road, Jiung spends several seconds looking in the rear-view mirror before shifting his attention to Jongseob. “Focus on what we’re doing. We have to make this smooth.”

“You will,” Sukyoung assures them, like he’s sitting in the back seat patting their shoulders instead of miles away on the other end of the phone. “And if you mess something up, well, that’s why you’ll have someone with you. To help clean up the oopsies.”

Huffing, Jongseob looks back out the window at the glittering, rain soaked nightlife around them. “Just get back to the damn plan.”

“My guy, Juchan, he’ll have the sedatives. No one else touch the syringe unless absolutely necessary. Let him handle that part. Mind you, he could take the target down without them, but he gets bitey. And we want everyone to make it out in one piece.”

Each building that passes has Jongseob seeing downtown through new eyes. Despite the rain, everything feels like it’s in uncanny focus. He’s absorbing too much information. He’s grabbing details he doesn’t need and doesn’t want.

“Jiung, what are you going to be doing?”

“Getting Keeho’s attention,” Jiung answers promptly, his gaze locked on the car in front of them. “We wait for Juchan’s cue, I step out and call him over. Try to get him as close to the car as possible.”

“And away from any vigilant drunkies hanging around.” Jongseob’s never seen even a photo of Sukyoung, but he swears in his mind’s eye he can see the man nodding. “Jongseob, your part?”

“Once Keeho’s in range and sufficiently distracted, I grab him,” Jongseob intones, eyes sliding back over to the dash. “With a hand over his mouth to keep him from screaming, while pinning his arms down-”

“To keep him from squirming and to give Juchan as much room to administer the dose of knockout juice as possible.”

“Right, that.”

He makes it sound so simple. Call it a hunch, but Jongseob imagines this is going to be a little harder than it sounds. Inevitably, something is going to go wrong. Keeho is going to fight back, or he’s going to have a friend with him, or he’s going to be on the phone when he walks out of the club. He’s going to see Juchan hiding in the shadows and know something is wrong. He’s going to see Jongseob, and clue into the fact they’re here with ill intent.

Or… It’s going to go just fine. 

The rhythm Jiung is tapping out changes tempo. Discomforted, Jongseob shifts in his seat before squeaking his sleeve through the fog on his window.

“Once he’s out cold, you’re going to let Juchan handle the tying and loading him up. I know he’s small, but don’t let that fool you. He’ll be able to take care of the heavy lifting.”

There’s the sound of a mechanical keyboard clacking from Sukyoung’s side of the phone. Several mouse clicks later, he hums under his breath.

“I’ve got most of your behind the scenes details worked out. You don’t have to worry about the target’s car, phone, keys- nothing. We’ll also be taking care of any evidence disposal as per the agreement.”

Though Sukyoung is currently being vague, Jongseob has the specific details playing in his head. The moment they have Keeho unconscious, they’re supposed to leave his phone and car keys in his car. Someone will be through the parking lot in a couple hours to make sure everything went smoothly. Jongseob has been informed there will be a modest amount of Keeho’s clothing waiting for them in Jiung’s basement, something that’s apparently being handled as they speak.

“Hopefully we won’t be leaving behind much evidence in the first place,” Jiung says, fingers stilling so he can tap the steering wheel decisively. “Thank you for going out of your way for us.”

“No point in half-measures,” Sukyoung responds, in a similarly cheery tone. “Are you sure you don’t need anything else…? If you need us to arrange a body pickup in the next week or two, it’d be an extra phone call and two minutes.”

Catching Jiung’s eyes, Jongseob catches the thin smile the man sends him. The one that says trust the process without giving him any reason to be less stressed about it.

“No no, what we’ve got here will be fine,” Jiung assures Sukyoung. Sipping from his soda can like it’s a fine wine, he hums, “Just let me know if my favor starts to run out, yeah?”

“Keep it limited to this target and we’ll call it even.”

Staring at Jiung’s drink, Jongseob distantly mourns his own poor planning in not grabbing something similar. Maybe one of the Monsters sitting in his dorm room. The adrenaline has been keeping him wired, but he could still use a little boost. Once they’ve got Keeho, there won’t be time or space for any little detours.

He thinks he can feel his nail beds. His hair follicles. His teeth.

“Can’t say I have any similar kidnapping plans any time soon,” Jiung tells Sukyoung, with a small laugh. “Will Juchan be coming home with us?”

“Just to make sure things run smoothly.” Sukyoung’s answering smile is evident, even through the phone. “Don’t worry, he’s car safe. Now. He’ll just be there in case the target wakes up in transit and needs a second dose. Wouldn’t want you two to have to juggle something like that while driving.”

“No, preferably not.” One of Jiung’s eyebrows twitch, and he casts a leading smile at Jongseob. “Y’know I’m pretty sure if he did wake up in the back of my car, he’d just assume he’d had a more exciting night than usual.”

Grunting, Jongseob mutters, “If he wakes up on the way home, forget the sedatives, I’ll just hit him.”

“I admire your spirit, but we’ve been over this. He’s much more likely to wake up quickly if all you do is smack him around.” Humming low in his throat, Sukyoung says, “Obviously, this would be easier if I knew his tolerance for these particular drugs, but as I wasn’t able to pull any cohesive medical records on such short notice, we’re going off average percentile here.”

“It’ll be fine.” Jiung’s still grinning, though his eyes have shifted back to the road. “If I were a little more inclined, I probably could have talked him into walking into the basement of his own volition. But you know, evidence and all that.”

“The goal is to leave as little traceable material behind as possible.” More typing from Sukyoung, fast enough that Jongseob struggles to parse the breaks between keystrokes. “I’ll be keeping an eye on things for the next few weeks, but nine times out of ten, the police drop cases like this after the first week, especially if they don’t have any leads. Just remember, if they call-”

“Lie!”

“Exactly.”

Delighted, Jiung crushes his empty drink can. “Luckily for all of us, I’m shockingly good at that sort of thing. And besides, I’m not family or a close friend. The chances of them even getting to me are next to none.”

“As long as you stick to the plan, the police won’t be an issue.”

The plan.

Flexing his fingers, Jongseob turns his attention to the rain collecting at the corners of the windshield. Honestly, while he’s aware of the dangers of what they’re about to do, he’s not worried about his piece of it. All he has to do is grab Keeho. Jongseob has successfully tackled Shota before, this will be light work by comparison.

The rest of it however- the next six to eight months of his life? Jongseob is less certain about that part.

Lips pursing as Jiung and Sukyoung’s conversation passes over his head, Jongseob thinks back a couple weeks, to Shota spacing out in bed and mumbling that he didn’t think Keeho had fun on their date. It should be such a shallow reason to go through with all of this, but to him, it’s not. No one has the right to upset Shota like that. Especially not if they’re going to text back two days later like nothing fucking happened.

Bastard. Fingers tightening into a fist for a split second, Jongseob forces the last minute jitters out of his body. Right now, he needs to focus.

“Two minute warning,” Sukyoung chirps from the speakers. “Ideally, I’d be in your heads the whole time. Unfortunately, Juchan’s the only one I’ve got hooked up right now, and he usually doesn’t bother with his ear piece. If things start to go sideways, follow his directions. He’s committed to self preservation, and for tonight, that includes you.”

“Good to know.” Turning onto the appointed street, Jiung tosses Jongseob a look. “Ready?”

‘As I’ll ever be’ probably isn’t the right response, given the severity of what they’re about to do. He should probably sound more confident, more on top of this. Like he’s actually ready to jump out of this car and commit a federal crime.

“Fuck it, we ball,” Jongseob mutters. 

Judging by Jiung’s manic grin, that’s enough for him.

The lot they pull into is run down, sunken in the middle to allow for rainwater to drain, even if it’s still gathering in pot holes regardless. Just as Sukyoung promised, there’s an empty parking spot in the corner of the lot, right by a narrow alley that likely only serves as a place to put trash and a couple legally required fire exits. Offering a perfunctory ‘see you’ to Sukyoung, Jiung tosses the car into park before killing the engine and taking a moment to simply sit.

After half a minute, their headlights click off. Above them, the street lamp flickers, casting them both into stark shadow. Giving the lot behind them a once-over, like they didn’t scope this place out ahead of time, Jongseob puffs out a breath.

“The bar’s still busy.”

“They’re having a good time,” Jiung reasons easily, unbuckling his seat belt and tossing his empty drink can at Jongseob’s footwell. “It’s Wednesday, the perfect time to party.” 

Technically, it’s Thursday now. Looking up at the still-lit dash display, Jongseob notes the date. The eighteenth. But he’s been marking this event on his mental calender as landing on the seventeenth, so thinking otherwise feels wrong. A perfect day to kidnap someone, if such a thing exists.

Giving the parking lot another careful examination, he notes how empty of people it is with relief. A moment later, he’s able to spot Keeho’s red car several spots over. They knew he was here, the man’s Instagram story told them that much, but it’s one thing to know and another thing to see.  

Now all we need is the guy himself.

“How long do you think it’ll take Keeho to show up,” Jongseob wonders, unbuckling so he can more easily crane his neck and clock the back door. In the interests of not getting caught, sending someone into the bar to chase Keeho out isn’t part of the plan, but he’s already kind of wishing it had been. If only because the weather is shit and he doesn’t want to stand out in it any longer than he needs to.

“Forget Keeho,” Jiung mutters. “Where’s Juchan?”

Oh, right.

Snapping his head around to the nearby alleyway, Jongseob tries and fails to squint through the water and the shadows. This close, he feels like it should be easy to spot someone, but maybe that’s half the reason they picked this corner of the parking lot. Because the longer he stares, the more convinced he is that any movement is just his eyes playing tricks on him.

Is he somewhere else?

“He’s supposed to be here.” Reaching for the car door, Jongseob cracks it open and wrinkles his nose at the answering gust of raindrops. When Jiung doesn’t follow suit, he jerks his head towards the alley. “C’mon, he’s probably waiting until he can see us to pop out.”

With a long suffering sigh, Jiung opens his car door as well, and together they splash out onto the pavement.

God the rain is cold. Even layered in jackets like he is, Jongseob finds an involuntary shiver crawling up his spine. It’s not as bad as it could be, there’s sleet in the forecast next week, but this is plenty awful. Especially when he doesn’t know how long he’s going to have to stand out in it.

Toddling around to the other side of the car, Jiung does a little circle before making a disgruntled sound under his breath. “I think we could have at least sat in the heat for a little longer.”

“You’ll be fine,” Jongseob tells Jiung, too keyed up to be sympathetic.

“I know why we’re doing it now, but why are we doing it now.” Kicking a puddle, Jiung complains, “I’m going to be wet and cold. All night, probably!”

When Jongseob just gives the man a flat sideways look, Jiung rolls his eyes. “At least pretend to stand somewhere dryer.” Splashing forward, into the gloom of the alleyway, the man pointedly says, “If Keeho shows up and I’m soaking wet, he’s going to ask questions.”

Shoving his hands into his pockets, Jongseob gives the bar one last look before trudging after Jiung.

Here, at least, it’s a little less rainy. The various overhangs plus the tall buildings to either side of them block the worst of the water. Not everything, Jongseob still feels a stray drop every now and then, but at least Jiung seems to settle. Plus, they have a good view of the bar from here, which means it’s a perfect place to hunker down and wait.

“Really thought Juchan would be waiting for us,” Jiung admits, fiddling with the draw strings of his rain coat sleeves. There’s excess energy in every line of his body, and knowing him, it probably has nothing to do with the caffeine in the soda he just downed. “I mean, I’m sure he knows better than we do where he should be, but still-”

“I’m here, don’t worry.”

Jerking his head to the side, Jongseob narrowly avoids swearing as reflective eyes gleam by his elbow. Jiung, however, just pushes past Jongseob so he can reach into the shadows with a hearty, “Oh thank god, I didn’t want to have to call Sukyoung back.”

Juchan, from what Jongseob can make out from the flickering light of the faulty streetlamp, is nothing like he imagined. For one, the guy is practically all bones and sharp angles, almost drowning in the jacket he’s wearing. For another, he’s distinctly shorter than both Jongseob and Jiung, and doesn’t seem to have nearly enough muscle mass on him to be a threat. Jongseob imagines a good wind could knock him over, much less another fully grown man.

But then Jongseob locks eyes with Juchan, and a very particular chill sets into the marrow of his bones. There’s something off about those eyes. When the man smiles, the expression stretches a little too far, and shows off a few too many teeth. His movements fall into the uncanny valley of being too precise, too weightless for him to be real.

Considering how long Jongseob has spent around Shota, he can instantly identify when someone is capable of being a threat, if they want to be.

“You’re Jongseob,” Juchan correctly identifies, catching his eyes for a heartbeat and a half. “And you’re Jiung.”

“Yep yep.” Hopping from foot to foot, Jiung puffs warm air onto his hands. “The box is already in the trunk of the car. Keeho’s car is-”

“The red one.” For better or worse, Juchan doesn’t make a sound when he moves, despite the puddles and trash underfoot. “Sukyoung says someone is coming for it.”

“Yeah, that’s what he told us.” Sidling up closer to Juchan, Jiung offers the man a winning, if wild-eyed smile. “So, while we’re waiting for our friend to show up, do I get to see the sedatives? Please?”

Furrowing his brows, Juchan confusedly says, “It’s clear liquid.”

“Yeah, but it’s a special kind of clear liquid.” Attempting to look convincing, Jiung presses his hands together. “At least tell me where you got it.”

“From Sukyoung,” Juchan says, non-plussed.

“If you keep chatting, we’re going to completely miss Keeho,” Jongseob mutters, jostling Jiung away from Juchan.

“Okay, sorry I’m not a total buzz kill.” Rolling his eyes, Jiung thankfully stops bothering Juchan and instead creeps back to the mouth of the alley. “I’ll be honest, I don’t know when he’s going to leave, but it’s gotta be soon. He usually bails around two, and his car’s still here, so…”

“He’ll show up.” Though Jongseob has his own series of doubts running through his head, of this much he’s certain. “Eventually.”

Falling silent, deflating slightly, Jiung gives Jongseob a piercing stare before jerking his head back around to face the club.

Unfortunately, Jongseob thinks he gets it. As much planning as they’ve done for this, the two of them haven’t had- or taken- the chance to sit down and talk about what they’re doing. The closest they’ve come to admitting this might be a horrible idea was right after Jiung called in his favor. Ever since then, it’s been a matter of how, and maybe sometimes why. Never what if we shouldn’t.

That ‘what if’ feels a lot more pressing when they’re standing in the freezing rain, with a dangerous man they’ve never met before hovering at their elbows. Or at least, it does for Jongseob.

You’re doing this for Shota. Focus.

It’s either this or murder. When Jongseob puts it into those terms, it’s a lot easier to see how kidnapping is the more humane option.

Visibly perking up as a thought occurs to him, Jiung turns to Juchan. “So, do you kidnap people often or is that more your organization?”

Face scrunching, Juchan decides, “Me? Not often.”

“But you’ve done it before,” Jiung presses, with a curious gleam in his eyes. “Sijun mentioned you were a pro at this.”

“Of course I’ve done it before.” When Juchan doesn’t move, he blends into the background with remarkable ease. Even though Jongseob knows the man is there, he finds himself losing sight of him. “Whenever Sukyoung asks.”

“But not often,” Jiung finishes. “Right. So how much is ‘not often’.”

Juchan runs the numbers in his head. “Four or five times a year.”

“Jesus Christ, and that’s not often?” Shaking his head, Jiung bounces on the balls of his feet. “For the record, I think you’re downplaying your abilities. If you do this every couple months, most people would say that’s often. If we’re going off the average of how many people per year your everyday citizen kidnaps. Which is zero.”

Blinking at Jiung, Juchan considers this before saying, “I don’t think that’s what ‘often’ means.”

Tuning out the conversation, Jongseob keeps his eyes fixed on the club. Every now and then, sounds will spill out of the building as the door opens and closes. Once, a couple people stumble around the back to their car, but neither of them pay any attention to the figures standing in the alley. Though he’s trying not to, the longer time stretches, the more antsy he gets, the more impatient.

How long are they going to have to wait? What if Keeho goes home with someone else? Jongseob is wet and cold and he only gets to fix those things once they’ve got Keeho bound and gagged in the trunk of Jiung’s car.

Fuck I never ate dinner.

As the time creeps past two and towards two-fifteen, and Jongseob starts considering pulling out his phone to pass the time, Juchan’s head shoots straight up, startling Jiung out of whatever he’d been saying.

“I heard him.”

Jiung’s eyes widen. “Keeho.”

“Get in position.” Retreating further into the alley, one of Juchan’s hands goes for his jacket pocket. “He’s coming.”

If it had been anyone else, Jongseob probably would have questioned the order. After all, he can’t hear shit over this rain. Even if he could, how does Juchan know it’s Keeho? But he’s the professional among them, and Jiung is already skipping back out into the parking lot, without a second thought.

Before Jongseob has a chance to ask Juchan how long they have, he hears Jiung’s loud call of “Oh hey Keeho!” and chooses to slink carefully deeper into the shadows instead.

Unlike the three of them, Keeho doesn’t look in the least bit dressed for the weather. In theory, he’s wearing a sweater, but said sweater is fuzzy and pink and doesn’t cover his stomach. His jeans are artfully ripped, but ripped nonetheless. He hasn’t even bothered with an umbrella, instead choosing to hold an arm over his head, as though that’s going to do much good. 

Jongseob also thinks there’s a point to be made here about how Keeho is willing to stay out until two in the morning at the club, but can’t manage more than an hour and a half with Shota before bailing, but he doesn’t make it. He’s a little too keyed into what’s going on.

“Jiung?” Keeho sounds baffled to see the man, but he doesn’t sound upset. Instead, he picks up his pace somewhat, redirecting his steps in Jiung’s direction. “What are you doing out here.”

“Oh you know, I was out,” Jiung calls back, with a uninformative wave of his hand. “What are you doing?”

“I was out at the- hold on, just out? What is that supposed to mean?” Picking his way around a puddle, Keeho looks up at the flickering streetlight before refocusing on Jiung. “Were you at Axis and I just didn’t notice you?”

“Nah.” Smile never faltering, Jiung jerks his thumb over his shoulder. “I was over there.”

“At Cold Pressed Juice?” Voice pitching up in doubt, Keeho stops dead in his tracks. 

“Yep.”

“But it’s closed,” the man points out, narrowing his eyes.

“Yeah, duh.” Jiung snorts. “I work there.”

If anything, that just seems to make Keeho more confused. “But it’s two in the morning.”

Giving the man a mildly disparaging look, Jiung pointedly says, “Well clearly someone’s never worked a closing shift at a restaurant.”

Narrowly, Jongseob resists the urge to rub his face. You’re supposed to be luring him towards the car, not fucking arguing with him, Jiung. Regrettably, yelling that would sort of defeat the purpose of hiding, but he still considers it, however briefly.

“Of course I haven’t worked a closing shift at a restaurant.” Squinting at Jiung, Keeho’s voice pitches up as he demands, “Why are you working at a restaurant. Aren’t your parents sending you an allowance? Was it not good enough or something.”

“I’m not doing it for the pay,” Jiung says, crossing his arms. “I’m doing it for the culture.”

“What fucking culture.”

“Restaurant culture!”

That, out of everything, manages to unstick Keeho from where he’s standing in the middle of the parking lot- much to Jongseob’s relief. “Wait a moment, are you dealing drugs.”

“Now why would you think I was doing something like that,” Jiung complains, subtly taking a step backwards towards his truck. “Why are drugs the first thing everyone jumps to.”

“I don’t know, because you seem like the kind of guy to deal molly to a bunch of wait-staff,” Keeho fires back, with a little wrinkle of his nose. 

“Keeho, if I were going to be dealing molly, I’d be doing it at the gay nightclub like fifty feet away,” Jiung says, like the man is a dumbass for thinking otherwise. “I’d make way more bank that way. And like I said, I’m not dealing drugs.”

“Right, of course, like I’m going to believe that.” Throwing an irritable look over his head, like he’ll be able to glare the rain into submission, Keeho mutters, “Still don’t know why you were just standing out here in the rain. I’d be trying to stay dry.”

“Oh, you know.” Which is a terrible excuse, but Jiung almost makes it sound like a logically sound reason. 

From somewhere behind Jongseob, he thinks he hears the faint scratch of water resistant material rubbing against itself. Impatience gnaws at the roots of his teeth. This doesn’t have to be that complicated. All Jiung has to say is ‘come over here to talk’ and they’ll be good, but he tries to trust the process. He’s almost close enough, just a little bit more.

He’s going to kidnap someone. He’s actually about to kidnap someone.

An idea visibly occurring to him, Keeho’s perfectly done eyebrows arch. “Oh my god, were you out here waiting for me?”

“A bit egotistical, don’t you think?” Jiung mutters, with a roll of his eyes. “Maybe I was waiting for someone else.”

“Sure, like you have anyone to wait for,” Keeho says, clicking his tongue. “Is there something going on that I missed? You can just text me if you want to talk. Hell, you could have come into the club. You’re legal, they’ll let you in. The entrance fee isn’t insane.”

“You haven’t missed anything yet,” Jiung promises, ignoring Keeho’s other remarks in a shocking show of self control. 

“So there is something I’m missing.” Stepping over to Jiung’s car finally- finally, Jongseob was starting to worry it’d never happen- Keeho puts a hand on his hip. “Hold on, don’t tell me, I’ll remember.”

“I’d never dream of spoiling anything,” Jiung promises, his eyes never once flicking towards the alley where Jongseob and Juchan stand. Jongseob, on the other hand, can’t help but shoot a quick glance towards the last place he saw Juchan.

Now? He wants to ask. How much longer do I wait.

“Spoiling…” Keeho snaps his fingers. “Oh my god, it’s almost Shota’s birthday.” Before Jiung can say anything, the man is already babbling, bouncing on his heels as he does so. “Are we planning a surprise party? That’s why you met me all the way out here, you didn’t want Shota or Jongseob to find out. What are we doing? What day are we holding it? Do you need a place to host, we can do it at my house.”

Though he probably shouldn’t, Jongseob finds himself momentarily faltering. Honestly, with this whole scheme taking up his thoughts, he completely forgot about Shota’s upcoming birthday. He hasn’t even bought a gift yet. And yet Keeho’s managed to pull the upcoming date out of thin air and is now chattering about it excitedly, half planning out a party even as they stand there.

If you like him this much, why the hell are we having to kidnap you in the first place?

“No wait, but if it’s his twenty-first, we should take him out drinking.” Despite Jiung’s lack of commentary, Keeho’s having no trouble filling the silence on his own. “We could take him here! Or… hmm, maybe somewhere a little quieter? I’m pretty sure there are some arcades around here that are bars as well. He’d probably like something like that better. Unless he wants to dance. Though most arcades have DDR and I bet he’d absolutely kill it at that.”

“Right right,” Jiung agrees, taking one last step back. “We can totally brainstorm something. But maybe we should get out of this weather. Before you ruin your clothes.”

They never entirely agreed on a signal, but Jiung’s quick glance in Jongseob’s direction is all he needs. A silent but very clear message of get your ass over here and grab him because otherwise I’m going to be trapped in the car with him for the next hour and you’re going to have to find your own ride home. And you know I don’t want to do that because then I’ll have to explain why I have the empty sound system carrying case in the back seat.

In short, it’s Jiung’s way of saying I’m prepared to go to jail over this if you are.

If Jongseob’s going to do this, it’s now or never.

Before he can bitch out, Jongseob darts out of the cover of the alley and grabs Keeho from behind.

The next five seconds go, at once, very slow and very fast. Keeho almost manages to get out a yell before Jongseob’s wrapping his arm around the man’s face. He’s pretty sure the man’s flailing manages to catch him in the ribs at least once, but the blow isn’t enough to knock him off. Instead of getting out of the way, Jiung just stands there like a dumbass, almost like it’s just now hitting him what they’re doing. Pinning Keeho’s arms down is far from the easiest thing he’s ever done, but Jongseob’s determined and doesn’t have another option.

Before Keeho can wriggle free or throw them both to the soggy pavement below, Juchan appears to Jongseob’s right. The syringe catches the light for a mere millisecond before the needle is neatly puncturing the skin of Keeho’s unguarded neck. A heart-stopping second passes, then another. Then, little by little, Jongseob feels Keeho’s struggles begin to weaken, before vanishing entirely.

As the man becomes dead weight in his arms, it’s all he can do to not immediately dump him to the ground in a heap. But no, they don’t want to break anything, so instead Jongseob lowers Keeho to the asphalt before standing up and wiping off the spit on his jacket, like it hasn’t already been washed off by the rain.

“There,” he mutters. “He’s out.”

“Yeah,” Jiung agrees, somewhat winded. “He’s out.”

Slowly, Jongseob lifts his head to Jiung. Meeting the man’s eyes, they stare silently at each other. It’s not communication, not in any way he could describe. Instead, it’s a horrible kind of understanding. An unspeakable, unbreakable bond has just been formed, under this flickering street lamp. If Jongseob were a different person, he might have given it a name.

Instead, he remains silent, and looks away when Juchan speaks up.

“Open the trunk, we should put him away.”

Lurching back into movement, Jiung fishes around in his jacket pocket for the keys. A second later, the truck opens, revealing the folded up back seat and the large case that’s sitting back there. It’s a simple matter for Jongseob to unlatch the thing and prop it open. Somehow, Juchan makes the act of picking Keeho up and tossing him into the box appear just as effortless.

“I’ll take his things to his car,” Juchan assures Jongseob and Jiung. “Sukyoung says not to get fingerprints where they don’t belong.”

“I mean, I’m Keeho’s friend, it wouldn’t be weird for my fingerprints to be places,” Jiung says, but he stands back and lets Juchan work unhindered. 

Watching Juchan rifle around in Keeho’s pockets barehanded for several seconds, the gears shift in Jongseob’s brain and he frowns. “Hang on, if we’re trying not to leave fingerprints, shouldn’t you be wearing gloves?”

Juchan’s head snaps around. “I don’t have fingerprints.”

Staring at the man’s wiggling fingers, Jongseob opens his mouth to comment before swiftly realizing he really doesn’t want to. Either the man is lying, and that’s someone who isn’t him or Jiung leaving evidence, which can’t hurt their chances of getting away with this if the cops come looking. Or, alternatively, Juchan actually doesn’t have fingerprints.

Somehow the second option seems worse.

“You sure he’ll stay out for a while?” Jiung wonders, edging his way in beside Juchan so he can peer into the case at the slumped and folded form of Keeho.

“Yes.” Producing Keeho’s phone and keys, Juchan smiles widely. No doubt it’s supposed to be settling, even if it has the exact opposite effect. “And don’t worry about any of the cameras, they’re already taken care of.”

“Oh fuck, cameras,” Jongseob mutters, instantly looking around them for a sign of any CCTV cameras, well hidden or otherwise. “I never even thought-”

“Those sorts of things don’t work when I’m around,” Juchan promises, already halfway towards Keeho’s car.

Exchanging another glance with Jiung, Jongseob takes one last look at Keeho’s unconscious form before shoving the case a little further into the car and yanking the trunk door down over him. He’ll let Juchan handle the gag. He just wants in out of the rain. 

“That was easy,” Jiung comments lightly, as the two of them slide into the front seats.

“I guess.” Shifting, frowning at the way the damp fabric of his pants is sticking to his legs, Jongseob quickly turns the heat to max. “Glad we had help.”

“I wasn’t going to go into this alone, now was I,” Jiung says, running a hand absently over the steering wheel. “But now that we’re talking about Juchan, I think he’s fun. We should-”

“We aren’t keeping him.”

“Man, tonight is just the night for everyone to make baseless assumptions about me, isn’t it?”

The car’s back door opens and Juchan appears in the rear view window. “We should leave,” he says softly, already reaching into Keeho’s box, rag in one hand and a roll of tape in another. “It’ll make things easier.”

“Right, right.” Snapping back to attention, Jiung flips the car into reverse. “Just try not to let any cops see that you aren’t buckled in back there. I’m not trying to catch a ticket.”

The ride back to Jiung’s house is shockingly uneventful. After getting Keeho properly bound and gagged, Juchan closes up the case and settles down for the ride. Jongseob mostly dries off before they’ve even made it out of downtown. Even Jiung scrounges up a pack of gum from the center console before long. Sure, it’s quiet, but that’s to be expected. What do you really talk about after something like this?

“You’ve got a ride out of here once we’re done, right?” Jiung clarifies, as they pull into his little neighborhood of one way streets and cars parked bumper to bumper on both sides of the road. “I mean, I figure Sukyoung wouldn’t leave you stranded, but you never know.”

“I’ll be okay,” is all Juchan offers in response. He keeps his eyes resolutely fixed on the box, despite Keeho not making so much as a sound since they sedated him.

“Just making sure.” Jiung’s smile is a winning one, but Jongseob can see the manic energy lingering just beyond it. “Mind you, I’m not complaining, we’re about to have our hands very full.”

“If you need us to kill him, Sukyoung says to call,” Juchan chirps, like that’s a completely normal thing to offer. “He’d rather a little extra work than a lot of extra work.”

“Makes sense,” Jiung admits. “But we should be fine. Like I’m sure you’ve been told, we want to keep this one in one piece, forever if possible. Killing him would completely defeat the purpose.”

“I mean, it wouldn’t be so bad,” Jongseob mumbles under his breath, only for Jiung to shoot him a wide, uninhibited grin.

“Plan C, Jongseob,” Jiung reminds him, eyes practically twinkling in the glare of the streetlamps off the rain-soaked road. “Plan D is only if this doesn’t work.”

Jiung’s street is empty of people when they pull into the driveway. Though Jongseob isn’t eager to get wet again, he still hauls himself out of the car and helps Juchan in unloading Keeho out of the trunk. If he were doing this on his own, he probably would have let the box get knocked around a bit, for fun, but Juchan’s too good at this for careless damage, so Jongseob follows suit. 

Out of the car, up the driveway, right to the front door.

“Basement is second door on the left,” Jiung calls, as he steps into the house ahead of them.

“I know,” Juchan assures him, leading the way as he and Jongseob waddle in with the case held between them.

“Don’t slip and fall down the stairs. Unlike you two I am not cut out to drag someone around.” Shrugging out of his coat, Jiung pads after them, palming his phone as he walks. “I’m calling Sukyoung to let him know it went well.”

“He already knows.” Juchan sounds certain. “He keeps an eye on me.”

Pulling a face at that, Jiung finally shrugs. “Whatever, as long as we’ve got all our bases covered.”

The basement gets colder, the further into it Jongseob goes. He’s spent more time down here in the past two weeks than he has in probably the past three years, but he’s still not used to it. Half of the place is finished, and in theory pretty nice, but the rest of it is mostly storage, an extra bedroom, and of course, Keeho’s brand new home.

It takes wandering past the boiler, the furnace, and several towering stacks of empty boxes before they find the heavy wooden door at the back of the basement. When Jiung shoves it open, it creaks loudly, catching on the door frame before banging into the wall beyond. Edging his way in after Juchan, Jongseob lets out a breath as at last, they’re able to deposit Keeho onto the floor once more.

“Wow, you guys did a number on this place,” Jiung says, with evident appreciation. “That is a set of manacles if I’ve ever seen one.” 

Eying the many padlocks and chains, Jongseob’s mouth pulls at the corners. “Will it hold him.”

“Yes,” Juchan says confidently, already unlatching the carrying case and dumping Keeho’s unconscious body on the concrete floor. “If you have any trouble with it, we can help fix things.”

“We’ll keep that in mind,” Jongseob mutters, as Keeho is rolled over to the far wall and the cuff is fit around his right ankle. “But I think we’ll be fine.”

Picking up the keys from the small table wedged into the corner of the room, Jiung looks them over. “Are there spares?”

“Sukyoung has a set.” The distinct sound of a lock sliding home echoes in the small, empty room. Turning, Juchan offers them both one of those too-wide smiles. “Just in case.”

“Just in case,” Jiung agrees under his breath.

“How long until the sedatives wear off?” Jongseob wonders, as he stares at Keeho’s slumped, sleeping form. The zip ties have already been removed, leaving Juchan the unenviable task of taking off the gag. “An hour, two hours…?”

“Two and a half,” Juchan says simply. 

“Just enough time to dry off,” Jiung decides.

“Yeah,” Jongseob agrees distantly, eyes going unfocused as he stares at Keeho. “We should… probably do that.”

Before Jongseob knows it, he’s bidding Juchan goodbye and watching the man toddle off into the rain with the empty sound system case dragging along behind him. All they’re left with are the keys, Sukyoung’s phone number, and instructions to call if anything happens. In turn, Jiung leaves Juchan with reassurance that they definitely know what they’re doing, and everything’s going to be fine.

As insane as it is to say, Jongseob thinks it might be. This feels surreal, and yet in all other respects it’s just an average Wednesday night. With him up way too late, and Jiung muttering incoherently under his breath as he digs through the kitchen for something to eat. No doubt, in a moment, the man will offer to share whatever he pulls out of the fridge.

If Jongseob didn’t know better, he’d think nothing was amiss. 

“We just kidnapped a man,” he says to no one in particular, as he stares at the closed front door and attempts to get his brain to recalibrate.

“No, we just kidnapped Shota’s future boyfriend.” Appearing behind Jongseob, Jiung throws an arm around his shoulder before offering him half a blueberry bagel. 

Staring at the food, uncertain of what to do with it, Jongseob stresses, “We have Keeho in the basement.”

“You’re right, we do.” Jiung flashes a smile. “Cheer up. This is going to be fun.”

￩￮￫◉￩￮￫

Chapter Text

￩￮￫◉￩￮￫

Jiung’s basement has always been, and always will be, no man’s land.

It’s typical of the sort of house the man has. Big, only partially finished. Built of cold concrete with poor if any heating and the ever present smell of mildew in a hitherto unseen corner that air purifiers and dehumidifiers can’t touch. It’s the kind of place that you theoretically, maybe, consider using for something eventually, while in reality you never will because going down there is generally unpleasant and to be avoided.

Until recently, Jongseob had never been down there. Save for maybe one or two instances of being sent to the basement to fetch something specific from Jiung’s vast collection of sodas he kept at the bottom of the stairs, the place was an unknown. There, but not a space to be used in any real capacity.

Sure, most of Jiung’s movie collection was down there. Sure, he had a big, flatscreen TV set up as well as an old couch. Yeah, he had storage and the water heater and even a full bathroom and bedroom down there, but why the hell would Jongseob bother with any of it? If they needed something from down there, chances were Jiung would be able to find it far better than anyone else could. There was a TV upstairs. And as for bedrooms, Jongseob had a dorm to go back to. 

The basement was just unnecessary.

But it exists. He’s very aware of that now.

When Jiung had originally told Jongseob they were putting Keeho in the basement, he’d thought it sounded a bit stupid. The basement? Really? This isn’t a bad movie, there’s no way something like that would work. They need space and resources to keep someone hidden for that long. Something Jongseob certainly doesn’t have.

Apparently, Jiung does. Or at the very least, he knows a guy who knows a guy who knows a handyman who keeps his mouth shut. He’ll be the first to admit he was a little skeptical when a soft-eyed man with a dopey smile that looked maybe only a year or two older than Jiung had wandered through the front door, but he’d been quick and efficient. He’d brought all the fixings necessary for what they needed. And most importantly, he hadn’t asked a single question.

All things considered, the renovations necessary for this whole project weren’t as extreme as Jongseob expected. He’d anticipated some kind of weird baby proofing of the place. No sharp objects, nothing useful for escape, nothing electric, nothing dangerous enough that it could be used against him or Jiung. You know, the basics.

In reality, he’s pretty sure they only changed two things about the basement. For one, they got rid of the mirror in the bathroom, at Jiung’s vehement insistence. The second, and arguably most important thing they did was install the shackles. That was it.

They didn’t even put bars over the window, though in fairness, Jongseob’s not sure how anyone would’ve gotten through that tiny thing in the first place. All the doors are still intact, the locks are still the same, most of Jiung’s stuff has been left right where it was before. The handyman just made a couple quick addendums, helped move two or three boxes, and then left good enough as is.

He’s only been briefed on how the Stockholm syndroming process is supposed to work once, though he likes to think he retained most of the information. Obviously, he was incredibly involved the kidnapping process. That whole plan hinged on him knowing what was going on and being able to carry it out. It was important for him to pay attention.

Keeping Keeho locked up, however; those details had been something Jiung had mostly taken care of.

Jiung, after all, had come to the table with the whole brainwashing idea in the first place. He was the one who knew the particulars, he was the one absolutely convinced would work. Jongseob’s kind of just been along for the ride.

Still, he likes to think that he’s got a decently good grasp of what’s about to take place.

The setup they’ve got is simple, but effective. Much like Jiung had suggested, most of Keeho’s stuff has been confiscated. He was allowed to keep his socks, but his shoes have been taken. He’s been allowed to keep any clothing that he was wearing when kidnapped, but they haven’t as of yet brought him anything else. Obviously, any additional personal effects, useful or otherwise, have also been removed from his person too, for extra misery. Jiung’s even pulled out his piercings, despite Jongseob offhandedly pointing out at least the eyebrow piercing would close up.

“He can get it redone!” is all Jiung had cheerfully said, as he deposited the small collection of nice, platinum and silver jewelry Keeho had been wearing. “If he lasts that long.”

Now, mind you, this stripping of Keeho down to the bare necessities isn’t to imply they don’t have more clothing for him. One of Sijun’s people made a point of grabbing extra stuff for them, but he doesn’t need them yet. Changing into something clean is a luxury. It won’t kill him to live in his own filth for a while.

If Jongseob is honest, the set up of Keeho’s makeshift cell is laughably simple. It’s a small, unfinished concrete space. No more than fifteen feet across and just barely eight feet wide, with a low ceiling and nothing remotely comfortable about it. Everything that was in the room has been removed, save for a thin mattress, a rickety table in the corner by the door, and a bucket. The purpose of each object, in Jongseob’s opinion, does not need to be explained.

Technically, there isn’t even a light in the room. The lamp they do have consists of a single bulb screwed into a loose wire that they’ve carefully strung up and nailed into the concrete ceiling. It’s not great, but the cord travels out of the room, and Keeho can’t reach it. Nor will he be able to reach it, not anytime soon.

The plan is to keep him shackled for his entire stay at Jiung’s house. With an ankle cuff specifically, for maximum security without sacrificing practicality or the small bit of mobility they plan on letting him have. Like this, he’ll be able to go anywhere he’s allowed, but he won’t be able to leave, they’ll always hear him move, and it’ll be properly demeaning. Like holding back a wild animal or an untrained dog.

Jongseob had argued for the leash, quite vehemently actually, insisting that it’d have the exact same range as the ankle cuff, with the added points in humiliation. Unfortunately, Jiung had pointed out that he didn’t want Keeho to kill himself, and giving him what amounts to a noose right off the bat might send a different message. If the guy dies, that’d defeat the purpose. No, if Keeho wants to take the coward's way out, he’s going to have to be creative about it. 

“Make him work for it,” Jiung had said, with a bright and glittering smile. 

“Hanging himself from the wall isn’t work enough?” Jongseob had muttered, as he tugged on Keeho’s soon-to-be chain and frowned.

“It’s too straightforward. Too clean.” Shaking his head, tutting under his breath, Jiung’s eyes had creased sweetly. “It may be a way out, but it sure as hell won’t be the easy one. Not if I can help it.”

Which, as you might imagine, had ended that line of questioning.

There are seven locks total on Keeho’s chain, each one withholding a certain amount of leeway and physical space that he’s allowed to have. The first one, the one he’s starting with, doesn’t even give him full access to his small concrete room. It lets him wander around maybe half of it, but Jongseob and Jiung agree that’s all he needs. He’s got a shit bucket. He’s got a bed. He can walk around a bit. Anything else, he has to earn.

From there, each lock represents a new level of freedom and normality that Keeho will be allowed to achieve. The second lock will let him have access to the bathroom that’s just outside of his cell. The toilet and sink specifically, and nothing else. The third lock however, that’ll let him into the shower, and even give him enough slack to close the door. Which is a big deal, Jiung insists, as he’s measuring out the correct amount of chain for said activity. After what they’ll have been putting him through, it’ll almost be like freedom.

The last two locks, in Jongseob’s mind, are much larger leaps in freedom. The forth lock will give Keeho complete access to the small guest bedroom Jiung has down here. He’ll have a proper bed in there, as well as a comfy chair and a table and other creature comforts that’ll let him play at normalcy. The lock after that will let him wander all the way into the finished part of the basement and onto the couch. He won’t be able to go past the couch, but it’ll give another space to explore. Some room to interact with other people, perhaps, without being on such unequal ground.

The sixth lock will let him wander around the entire basement, right up to the base of the stairs, uninhibited. It’ll give him access to practically anything he could want. The washing machine for one. The extra fridge for another. He’ll be able to adjust the TV to his liking, and turn the basement lights on and off. For all intents and purposes, it’ll be like having his own apartment, albeit one he’s not allowed to leave.

And the seventh lock? That’s the one that’ll set him free.

Past that, there are a myriad of other little privileges and rewards they plan to give Keeho over time. Like a blanket and new clothes and a toothbrush and more than one meal a day. As much as Jongseob enjoys the thought of the stick part of this equation, Jiung insists there must be a carrot. If he’s good, if he behaves, he’ll be allowed to be a person again. It’ll make any punishments they meet out that much more meaningful.

As schemes to rewrite someone’s personality go, it’s a simple one, but it should be effective. It’ll present Keeho with an obvious reward system for when he behaves, while still keeping him nice and secure, exactly where he’s wanted. In addition to that, it’ll make it easier if they have to revoke those privileges from Keeho again. All they have to do is lock him back up.

Jiung says having the punishment always looming right over his shoulder will be a fantastic incentive, and leave Keeho always a little unsure if it’s going to be used or not. Jongseob’s just glad he doesn’t have to keep track of seven different lengths of chain. This is so much easier.

Mind you, it’s not humane. But Jongseob made his peace with that a while ago. Before the kidnapping took place, practically the moment he accepted the fact they were doing this for real. This is against the law, basically torture, and probably breaks the Geneva Convention in a few places. Humane is such a distant concept it might as well be on a different planet.

He just hopes it works. Because otherwise, Keeho probably isn’t making it out of this alive.

Jongseob won’t lie, despite going to all this trouble, he’s still thinking about giving into his baser instincts and killing Keeho. Should he? No, but he knows himself. He’s aware of the directions his mind is going in, and how sincere those thoughts are. Things already had to be bad for him to even consider this. Out and out murder isn’t that much more of a step. Or so that little voice in his head keeps whispering.

Logically, he’s able to see it as the last resort it really is. When he sits there on the couch, idly thinking, he doesn’t feel nearly so logical.

But no, he’s not going to. Not yet. Not if on the other end he can turn this into a good situation for Shota.

It seems insane. He’s been thinking that for the past couple hours now, ever since getting home and first restraining Keeho. The chances of this working as intended and fixing the issues in the man’s brain are low. Sure, Jiung is confident, he seems to think this is a golden ticket for them, but Jongseob thinks his own view is more realistic.

They have a person chained up in the basement. A fully autonomous individual who can think for himself and has been doing so for the past twenty-five years. What difference do they honestly think they’re going to make just by psychologically torturing him for a few months?

Even if you don’t think of it is torture- Jiung definitely doesn’t- it’s still going to be a process. They’re basically going to be retraining Keeho like a dog. And as Jongseob is well aware, not even all dogs train well. Doing this shit to a human? Risky! With a low promise of anything past an unmarked grave deep in the woods at three am.

Somewhere deep down though, Jongseob knows even he thinks it’s possible. Maybe not probable, maybe not a good idea, but possible. It can be done, Keeho can be improved. The two of them may not actually be capable of doing so, but there is a way.

Jongseob just sincerely hopes they find it, because he’s got Shota’s happiness riding on this whole endeavor, and that’s not something he wants to ruin.

Forget the damage he’s potentially doing to his own life, forget the possibility of ending up with life in prison because of all this, he doesn’t wanna make Shota upset. All he wants is to fix this thing that’s been wrong for the past three years. And yes, that thing is a person, but that doesn’t change how he feels about it

For Shota, there’s frighteningly little that Jongseob isn’t willing to do.

It’s those thoughts that carry him down the basement stairs after Jiung as they head to Keeho’s new room, for the first time, but certainly not the last time.

The trip is dark. Jiung turned on the basement lights, but they only reach so far, and he doesn’t seem particularly interested in flipping all the ancillary switches along the way. They’ve both left their phones upstairs, so there’s no help there. All they have is a cup of cold water and themselves. Freshly dried after the rain, a little strung-out on no sleep, and in Jongseob’s case, full of grim determination.

The door they stop outside of is largely unremarkable. Uneven, big, wooden. With an ancient brass handle that requires a special kind of skeleton key that Jiung produces from his pocket. He doesn’t flip on the lights before he goes in, so Jongseob does for him. They click on after a two second delay, as the incandescent bulb buzzes to life with an audible electric whine.

Keeho is still passed out on the floor. They haven’t moved him since initially locking him up. No one suggested putting the man on the mattress, so it never happened. Instead, he’s crumpled beside it, still dressed in that stupid fuzzy pink sweater and vaguely uncomfortable looking skinny jeans. The only difference between now and when they first knocked him out is that he looks like he’s actually sleeping, instead of just drugged up.

Briefly, Jongseob exchanges a look with Jiung. There are no words. All the words have already been had, long before they stepped into the basement. Hell, most of them were exchanged before they ever grabbed Keeho at all. This is just a final silent conversation.

A confirmation.

A promise.

The beginning.

And perhaps the end of something too.

Grabbing the cup of water out of Jiung’s, Jongseob empties it over Keeho’s face.

It takes a minute to have an effect; the man’s been out cold for a while. Inevitably, there’s the splutter, followed by the sounds of groggy complaint, then a softly mumbled, “Wh-what?” It comes out mangled despite being only a single word. Despite it being theoretically directed at them, neither Jongseob or Jiung move. They just watch and wait as one of Keeho’s eyes blearily peels open and he takes a second to get a grip of his surroundings.

“What – what the hell?” In all these years of knowing Keeho, one of the only things Jongseob has always been able to say about the man is that he has a nice voice. It may be annoying to listen to for him, but that’s more of an issue with the content of what’s being said, not the mouth sounds themselves. Objectively, Keeho’s voice is pretty.

Right now, he sounds a bit like he’s been swallowing rocks.

It definitely makes it a little more grating to hear him mumble out, “What’s going on? Where am I? What time is it?”

Shockingly, there’s little to no panic in his tone. If anything, he’s acting annoyed, like he’s waking up from a bad nap. Disoriented, sure, but not scared. Definitely not understanding the gravity of the situation he’s in. 

No matter, that part will come soon.

Though no one else chooses to speak, Keeho keeps mumbling, almost like he’s not entirely realized that Jongseob and Jiung are standing there. “Why is my face all wet?” At last, he properly moves, dragging a sluggish hand up to wipe some of the water off his face. “Ugh, fucking… gross.”

Whatever routine he went through earlier that night to keep his makeup in place, it still smears a bit when he rubs at it. The rain couldn’t do that, getting thrown in the trunk couldn’t do that either, but as he regains consciousness, some of that flawless veneer smudges off. It gives the man the impression of dark circles under his eyes, something which Jongseob hopes he comes by honestly within the next few weeks.

As it seems to finally occur to the man that wherever he is, he’s not comfortable, he rolls over onto hands and knees and groans softly. There’s an audible pop as his spine straightens. “Fuck. Fuuuuck. What the hell?”

Jongseob doesn’t say anything. Jiung simply stares down at Keeho, that ever present, placid smile still high on his face.

Making several more sounds of discomfort, Keeho pulls himself together enough to pick his head up and look at the other two people in his cell. “Jiung? Jongseob?” He couldn’t sound more confused if he tried. “What– what’s going on?”

This should be where they speak. It’s a simple question, and they probably have to explain this situation to Keeho at some point, but neither of them make a move to go first. There was no vow of silence, but it feels almost important that they don’t break it. That they just let Keeho figure it out himself, or at least let him stumble around for a bit before giving him the answers.

Amazingly, Keeho doesn’t seem perturbed by the fact they’re not responding. Instead, he’s much more interested in the floor he’d been sleeping on. Giving it a couple taps with his knuckles, as though to check what material it is, he makes a disgusted sound under his breath. “Concrete? Why was I– I was sleeping on concrete?”

No response from either of them. Quietly, Jongseob shifts his weight from one foot to the other, and watches Keeho with no small amount of thinly veiled dislike.

“God, I– shit, my memory’s all fucked.” Running his fingers through his hair, Keeho makes another sound of disgruntlement at the sensation of old hair gel and cold water. “I– I was out tonight? I was at the club?” He pauses. “What day is it?”

At this point, it’s Thursday. Jongseob still hasn’t stopped thinking of it as Wednesday though. It’s Wednesday until he goes to bed. Which is liable to be several more hours at least.

“Right, right. I was at Axis.” Making an unpleasant sound in the back throat, Keeho clearly resists the urge to spit on the floor. “Jesus, how much did I drink? Did I drink?”

Honestly, Jongseob doesn’t know that one, but he feels like Juchan would’ve told them if Keeho had been drinking. If only because it might have fucked with the dosage of the injection they gave him. But no, Juchan never said a word, so he’s fairly certain they were the only sedative Keeho came into contact with last night.

Rubbing his mouth, sitting up a little further, Keeho looks around the room and visibly recoils. “Oh my God, where am I.” It’s not the first time he’s asked this question, but it’s definitely the most coherent. He’s aware he’s not where he’s supposed to be, a couple of the pieces are slowly clicking together. “I– I wasn’t drinking. I know I wasn’t drinking, I had to drive home. Where am I, how did I get here?”

There it is, just the slightest sweetest twinge of panic in the man’s tone. He’s awake enough to know something is terribly wrong, but not awake enough to understand what it is. Though he shouldn’t, Jongseob feels a certain thrill of satisfaction at that knowledge. Keeho is upset, Keeho might even be scared.

Finally.

Visibly, more of the fragments from the night before fit together in Keeho’s head. “I– I walked out to the parking lot because I was going to go home and– and–!” Pointing at Jiung with a weak hand, Keeho’s eyes go wide. “Hold on, you were there; what happened? Did you see? Did something– did I fall and hit my head?”

Jiung doesn’t respond, but it’s fine, because already Keeho is throwing that idea away. “No, no– I was talking to you and everything was fine and then–” Dawning realization comes over his face. “Oh my God, I think someone grabbed me. There- there was a sharp pain in my neck, and someone had their hands over my mouth–” He’s fighting with his own memory, but he’s gradually getting there, piece by laborious piece.

Jongseob, of course, remembers it clearly. He thinks he’s going to hold onto that moment as a core memory forever. The sensation of Keeho thrashing against his grip and failing to free himself. That precise second where he started to go limp, as the sedatives worked their magic. The way he’d crumpled lifelessly to the ground…

It’s a good memory, he thinks. Satisfying.

“I… I think I was kidnapped.” Putting a hand to his chest first, then to his mouth, and then finally the side of his neck, Keeho looks swiftly between Jongseob and Jiung. “Holy shit, I was kidnapped. I thought that only happened in horror movies. People don’t just get kidnapped. What the fuck?”

As if it’s only just now setting in what this means, he looks down at his ankle and immediately grabs for the chain that’s secured there. “They chained me up. They fucking chained me up! Is this a manacle? I didn’t know these still existed.” Rattling it again, Keeho’s face falls another fraction of an inch. “They grabbed me, and they drugged? They must have drugged me, and then they chained me up in– in a basement? We’re in a basement, right?”

Neither bother to confirm or deny his assumption, Keeho seems pretty certain of himself without their help. “This is really not how I expected my evening to go. I’ll be completely honest, this is a new one for me.” Looking around them at the plastic bucket, the mattress, and the open door behind Jiung, Keeho lets out a high, nervous laugh. “It’s fine. I’m fine. It’s cool, now, and–” His eyes light up. “And you’re here which means I’m fine.”

That is, admittedly, a fair assumption to make. In literally any other circumstances, Jongseob and Jiung being there would be a good sign. Of rescue, perhaps, or at least solidarity in suffering. Unfortunately, Keeho hasn’t seem to realize that this is the exception. 

“Christ, y’know what, I have never been more glad to see you wandering around in the middle of the night,” he tells Jiung, pointing at the man with a finger that trembles faintly. “You must have followed them. Oh my God, you followed kidnappers. You should’ve called the police! You’re insane. I mean that affectionately, obviously. Since– since you’re here to save me.”

Turning his attention on Jongseob, Keeho hesitates for a moment before his expression softens. “I… am going to be perfectly honest, I didn’t think you would ever bother to come save me from a situation like this but- thank you? I’m grateful. Really I am.”

Considering everything, the absurdity of Keeho’s misunderstanding is so perfect that Jongseob almost laughs out loud. Really, him? Saving Keeho. Without Shota dragging him along no less. It’s so blatantly incorrect he almost feels compelled to ruin it. 

As it is, he just continues to stare impassively at the man, ready and willing to let him continue running his mouth. Because obviously, they’re not going to just let him go, no matter how many times he thanks them for ‘saving his life’.

“Jiung must have called you after I got snatched. Thanks for not ignoring him.” Shaking his head, Keeho chuckles and glances over at Jiung. “What, did Taeyang and Intak ignore your ass?” A second later, he wrinkles his nose and holds out a hand. “No, sorry, that’s- I’m just really glad you’re here. And I’m glad you got help.”

Jiung doesn’t even think about correcting Keeho; he just keeps smiling, like he’s having the time of his life.

“I’m going to be so for real, I thought I was gonna die.” Running his hands through his hair again, doing his best to dry it out with a sleeve, Keeho says, “Like, I felt the needle, and everything went dark, and I think my last thought was ‘This is it. I’m never waking up’.” Brow creasing, he mutters, “I’m glad I did. I’m glad you guys are here.”

Giving his chain another little shake, Keeho makes a sound in the back of my throat. “Thank fuck you were there, otherwise it probably would’ve worked and they’d have gotten away with kidnapping me. You guys have the keys, right? You’re not going to have to like, cut off my leg or something.”

A moment of silence passes, then the man gasps. “Oh my God, you’re going to have to cut off my leg.” Belatedly, it seems to occur to Keeho how stupid that is because he pulls a face and holds up a hand. “Wait, what am I talking about, you’ll just call locksmith. Please don’t cut off my leg. Even if you think it’s funny, I don’t think it’s funny.”

Briefly, Jongseob considers the comedy of doing just that and cutting Keeho’s leg off. But no, ‘in one piece’ they’ve been specific about that stipulation. They’re not going to change their minds now.

As his eyes follow the chain, Keeho quickly confirms, “You have called the police, right? Because like– even if you… Did something to the kidnappers, I would rather press charges. Like, no. No one‘s getting away with us. I mean, God. I’m going to have to call off work tomorrow. I’m not going in after getting kidnapped.”

Imagine, calling the police. No, the only number that Jiung has on speed dial right now is Juchan. And if Juchan shows up, Keeho is dying.

“Whatever, we’ll worry about the police later, I think I’d rather just leave.” Drawing his legs up under him, Keeho whines and makes a sound of complaint under his breath. “Fucking, ow. I feel like I’ve been sleeping on this floor for hours. You didn’t leave me here for hours, did you? How long did it take to find me?”

No reply. 

Keeho looks up at them.

“You can free me now, you know. I’d like to leave. Like, I’m fine but this isn’t fun.”

Jongseob shifts his weight again. Jiung laces his fingers together and does a little stretch, his smile widening by the second.

Little by little, the realization Keeho has clearly been putting off dawns on him. It’s not all at once, but you can see it happen, as all the various puzzle pieces click together, and the bits of his memory that either weren’t there before or he was purposefully avoiding slowly fall into place. And the moment it happens, his expression falls, almost comical in how sudden the change is.

“Oh,” he breathes, in a small voice. “You guys kidnapped me.”

Neither of them say yes, but it’s clear from the way Keeho sits there, a little dumbfounded, that he’s already certain. They don’t need to say anything, he knows.

It takes a moment, but slowly, the smile returns to Keeho’s face. Followed almost immediately by laugh, the kind that’s high, and nervous, and just a tad uncertain. “Really– really funny guys. Crazy prank, you totally got me.”

The bizarre assumption feels farfetched, and yet, it also makes sense. Of course Keeho’s first conclusion wouldn’t be that they’ve actually kidnapped him. That’s insane. You don’t do that to your friends. It’s just that Jongseob isn’t Keeho’s friend, and Jiung will do anything if he thinks the bit is funny enough and it gets him where he wants. And Keeho… Keeho hasn’t realized that yet.

As a silence once again stretches between the three of them, Keeho forces himself to laugh once more.

“You–” Keeho points at Jiung again. “You distracted me. That was a distraction, so that… That Jongseob, you could grab me?” They don’t confirm or deny it, but maybe Keeho can read the truth off of their expressions because he starts nodding. “You show up somewhere you knew I would be, you waited until I was alone, and then you grabbed me. That’s- That’s actually kind of terrifying. Brilliant, but terrifying. Holy shit, I’m glad we’re friends.”

He laughs again, a little desperately. Neither Jiung nor Jongseob choose to join in.

“So what, was this some sort of… April fools joke several months early?” Shaking his head, Keeho gives the room another look over. “You guys… Really went all out! Honestly, hats off to you. If I had known better, I would believe it. But like– I figured it out, so joke’s done, right?”

Laughing some more, like it’s the only defense mechanism he has against full-on panic, Keeho insists, “You guys wouldn’t do anything crazy like leave me here, right? Because like, this is a joke. And I know you’re really really bad with jokes, Jiung, but you know when one’s being taken too far, right? Like– like kidnapping or drugging one of your friends.”

As it occurs to him what he’s saying, Keeho puts his hand back to his neck in mild horror. “You– fuck, you drugged me. Great prank, real funny! But– but you can’t just go around drugging people. What if I’d had an allergic reaction? What if I’d died? You don’t know anything about sedatives. Where did you even get sedatives?”

Becoming more and more alarmed with every successive question, Keeho attempts to get to his feet only to trip over his brand new ankle cuff and fall back pathetically to the ground. “Like, look man, I like a good joke as much as anyone else, but I think you guys took this a little far. You could’ve just stopped after grabbing me. I already thought I was going to die, you didn’t have to go all the way. You didn’t have to sedate me.”

Looking to Jongseob, some of Keeho’s distress visibly turns to disgruntlement, then anger. “I know you’re not my biggest fan but this is kind of fucked up, don’t you think? Like this is a really fucked up thing to do to somebody, even if it is just a prank. I– I am in a basement, I don’t even know whose basement it is. I’m chained to a wall, you guys drugged me. You grabbed me.” Keeho jabs a finger in Jongseob’s direction. “I didn’t even know it was you.”

Obviously, Jongseob thinks but doesn’t say. We didn’t want you to know it was us. That it was me.

Apparently, the lack of a response is starting to get to Keeho, because his agitation is only growing. “Ha ha guys, glad you had a good time scaring the shit out of me. Let me go. I’m done with this shit.” When neither of them move, Keeho’s eyes crease in evident disgust. “Is this really how you’re going to treat one of your friends? Like, I’m know you guys for years. Jiung, I’ve known you since you got to this fucking city. What the hell did you decide to do this to me for?”

They aren’t about to tell him, but if Keeho knew, he wouldn’t be in the situation at all. There’s a certain sort of irony to that, in Jongseob’s mind. If Keeho had possessed just a little more self-awareness, he’d never have been kidnapped in the first place.

“Look, just let me go, we’ll talk about this in the morning.” Giving himself a shake, Keeho once again tries to stand up and this time succeeds. Unfortunately, when he takes a step forward, he realizes just how short his chain is. “I’m not– okay, I’m a little mad, but I’ll get over it. I know you were just doing it for shits and giggles. Bad joke, bad execution, but… we all make mistakes. I’m forgiving.”

The brutal truth of it, however, is Jongseob isn’t. Even as he watches Keeho slowly crumble underneath the pressure of his new reality, he doesn’t feel bad. If Keeho didn’t want this to happen to him, he should’ve treated Shota better. It wouldn’t have even been that hard, just him being a decent human being would’ve been enough. Not being a douchebag. But he couldn’t be assed to manage that much, so Jongseob, frankly, can’t be assed to give him anything in return.

Tugging fruitlessly on his chain a couple of times, some of the steel in Keeho’s eyes starts to melt. “Seriously guys, come on.” Shoulders drooping, he looks at them with a certain amount of distress. “Just– just tell me what you were thinking, maybe?”

Neither of them do. Jiung takes a second to examine his nails, but doesn’t speak up. Likewise, Jongseob just crosses his arms across his chest.

“Say something,” Keeho says, his voice is getting softer as more and more of the rage is eclipsed by fear. “Anything. Just– just tell me you’re going to let me out.” He’s definitely begging now. “You are going to let me out, right?”

It’s beautiful really, the way everything falls together in Keeho’s brain at last. Jongseob gets to watch it happen in real time, every realization, every bit of crushing understanding, every bit of fear and panic and despair. All right there, laid out in front of him so clearly it’s like he’s watching a play. Keeho is an actor, and they are nothing but the audience.

Slowly, Keeho takes a step back. His chain clinks as he does, shifting over bare concrete floor. “Oh,” he whispers, for the second time tonight. “I see.”

Freezing where he was, still picking at his nails, Jiung cracks a wide smile. Jongseob doesn’t, but he’s sure the satisfaction must be obvious on his face. Judging by the look of dread in Keeho’s eyes, at least.

“This isn’t a joke,” Keeho breathes, as he stands there frightened in the middle of his cell. “This isn’t a joke, you’re serious. You kidnapped me.”

You could’ve heard a pin drop.

Gradually, Keeho crumples back to the concrete floor. His ankles wobble first, then his knees give out, his hands stiffly coming out to catch him. He looks a few shades off from broken, but Jongseob knows full well that this is only the beginning.

It’s going to get so much worse.

After a long moment of silence, Keeho finally summons his voice once more. When he speaks, it’s nothing but a desperate plea, small and pathetic and devoid of the bravado and ego that he’s carried himself with for so long.

All he musters is a single word. Just one, but it somehow manages to convey the depth of horror, betrayal and despair he’s currently feeling.

“Why?”

Finally done having his fun, Jiung rolls his shoulders back and clears his throat. “Because,” he says, in a tone as friendly and casual as if he were talking about the weekly weather report. “You’ve been making some bad choices.” Cracking the bones of his neck, the man’s teeth briefly flash, as something terrible lights up behind his eyes. “But that’s okay, because we are going to help you make better ones.”

“What– what happens then?” Keeho asks, like he’s genuinely terrified of the answer.

“Simple,” Jiung tells him, with a sweet little smile. “We let you out.”

Keeho doesn’t reply. To be fair, even if he had, they probably wouldn’t have answered.

Giving Jiung’s shoulder a little nudge, Jongseob jerks his head towards the door. Without question, the man about-faces and leaves the room. Turning, Jongseob sets the now empty cup on the little table in the corner before exiting the room as well. 

It’s only after Jiung closes and locks it behind them that Jongseob’s jaw finally unclenches.

The end, but also a beginning.

￩￮￫◉￩￮￫

Chapter Text

￩￮￫◉￩￮￫

Jiung’s house, for all intents and purposes, sits in the middle of the most quintessential suburbia you could imagine.

Alright, sure, a lot of it has been taken over by college students, so it’s not as well-kept as some suburbs would be. There are proper front lawns, but most of them desperately need mowed. All the houses are two stories, but everyone's siding could use a power wash and most windows are smudged and dirty. People have porches, but they’re populated with mismatched furniture and decorations from three holidays ago. Still, it’s somehow exactly what you’d picture from a suburb, and Jiung’s house fits in perfectly.

Two stories, plenty of windows, a porch big enough to hold three chairs and a little, rickety side table. Jongseob still remembers the summer adventure that repainting it had been. They painted it blue, and while it’s a little slapdash on the corners and around the gutters, for the most part it looks nice. Really, even if you know the guy who owns it, nothing about the house itself sticks out.

You might be wondering how a guy in grad school got his hands on a place like this, and the simple answer is; money. Jiung’s family, for better for worse, is fucking loaded. The man himself isn’t necessarily ostentatious with his wealth, and doesn’t really have a ton of it in liquid assets he’s able to throw around, but it still shows. The way he dresses is nice, he always eats well, he goes on vacation every year, and yes, he’s got property.

It’s not even property he’s expected to keep. Jongseob’s heard several times that Jiung fully intends to sell the house the moment he’s done with his schooling. The idea of being able to throw around real estate that casually in this economy is staggering, but Jongseob tries not to make his business.

The important part, in his mind, is that Jiung shares. As far as they’re all concerned, Jiung’s house is their house. Whenever Jongseob needs a place to go, needs something to eat, or even needs to do laundry, he doesn’t have to rely on what his own money can buy or the facilities the dorm provides him. Nope, he can just walk off campus, take the ten minute stroll down to Jiung’s house, and have everything practically handed to him.

Jongseob doesn’t often describe it as an advantage, but he’s well aware that it is. Even if it’s not his house, having a house in the immediate friend circle is insanely useful. Especially considering he and Shota don’t have a lot of money. Mind you, neither of them are actually poor, but there’s a big difference between them and Jiung, even if it rarely comes up in their day-to-day interactions with the man.

Needless to say, Jongseob has never been more grateful that Jiung has his own house than he is now. Mostly because they’re keeping a person locked up in his basement.

At this point, after several weeks of it, Jongseob’s new daily routine is fairly ingrained into his head. He finishes up his last class for the day, he hangs out with Shota for a bit to make sure the man doesn’t feel like he’s being completely abandoned, then he grabs his backpack and ambles his way over to Jiung’s house, where he’ll stay for the next four to eight hours, depending on what’s asked of him.

Because you know, somebody’s got to take care of Keeho.

The weather is fairly overcast. Clouds gather menacingly in the sky above him as he takes the meandering path of stairs up the small decorative hill to Jiung’s front door. They got snow earlier this week, and it still hasn’t fully melted, accumulating in the dirty piles left behind by the snow plows. Jongseob hopes they’re not about to get more, but he doesn’t have that much faith in the weather. You never know around here, they’ll probably be getting snow until late March, even if they’re lucky.

He doesn’t bother knocking on the front door, he never has before. Instead, he pulls out his key ring, unlocks the door, and steps in, calling a quick, “Hey, it’s just me,” deeper into the house, so he doesn’t startle Jiung.

There’s some rustling and clanking from the direction of the kitchen and a moment later, Jiung swings his way around the corner, a bright smile on his face. “Oh, just in time. I was wondering why you were late.”

“I’m not that late,” Jongseob mutters, kicking off his shoes and tossing his school bag onto the nearest surface before walking over to Jiung. “It’s like, a fifteen minute time difference. Chill.”

“Easy for you to say. You aren’t trapped here with Keeho all day.” Offering Jongseob a pointed little tilt of his head, Jiung stares at him for just long enough to be noticeable before turning and heading off back into the kitchen. Rolling his shoulders, Jongseob follows.

“Look,” he says, as he watches Jiung root through his various cupboards and cabinets. “Shota’s been pretty off lately. I didn’t want to just… leave him alone when he’s like that.” Not if he can help it. Which he can’t, at the moment, considering his other obligations, but still. Jongseob feels bad for abandoning his best friend. Sure, last he checked, Shota was playing Pokémon and completely ignoring everything else, but something in him is still insisting that he should be there, as a comforting presence if nothing else.

“That bad, huh?” Jiung asks, pausing in his search so he can turn a sympathetic look in Jongseob’s direction.

“It could be worse but… Yeah.” Slouching where he stands, Jongseob shrugs. “I mean, we kind of saw this coming.”

“I know, I know. I’m not saying we should do anything different, it’s just–” Leaning on the island in the middle of his kitchen, Jiung looks up at Jongseob. “What’s he saying? Does he suspect, or…”

“Actually, I think he’s convinced himself that he managed to upset Keeho somehow.” Resting his elbows on the island as well, Jongseob makes a vague gesture with his hand before grimacing. “Shota doesn’t usually jump to the worst case scenario, but after Keeho wasn’t at his birthday party…”

“Not the first time Keeho’s missed something important,” Jiung says, with a raised eyebrow. 

“But not a birthday party, and not without at least texting.” Jongseob snorts ruefully. “From Shota’s perspective, Keeho’s spent most of January and now part of February ghosting him, and he ran out on their… whatever it was. I’d probably assume the guy was pissed off at me too.”

“Well when you put it like that, I can see the logic.” The little frown on Jiung’s face deepens. “Does he think Keeho’s going to forgive him and contact him later?”

Though Jongseob isn’t happy to say it, he grudgingly admits, “He’s still hoping. You’d think after another few weeks of no contact, he’d give up, but I guess if it were that easy to make him give up, we wouldn’t be here in the first place.”

“No, we wouldn’t.” Straightening, Jiung goes back to whatever he was doing with his assortment of mismatched tupperware. “Honestly, I think you should be happy about this. It’s practically what we want! We don’t want Shota to completely give up.”

“Are you sure?” Lifting his eyebrows, Jongseob pulls a disgusted face. “If you ask me, that sounds like the happier ending for all of us.”

“Yeah, but then we have to kill Keeho,” Jiung points out, dramatically wilting for half a second before popping back up once more.

“I’m not seeing the downside,” Jongseob says under his breath, eyes drifting away towards the door of the kitchen. “Shota finally gives up on him, we free up your basement, I get to murder that bastard… Everybody wins.”

Reproachfully, Jiung turns to look at Jongseob. “You said it yourself, Shota hasn’t completely given up on Keeho yet. And until that happens–”

“We’re keeping him,” Jongseob mutters dejectedly, putting his head in his arms. “Yeah yeah, I know.”

Damnit.

For a moment, Jongseob just stays there, breathing in the patchy scent of Lysol and three day old pizza, before finally drawing himself back together and asking, “How is he? You know…”

“Past the obvious,” Jiung finishes conversationally. “Well, do you want the good news, or the bad news?”

Pulling face, Jongseob almost says neither, but resists the urge. “The bad news.” 

“The bad news is that Keeho’s officially been listed as a missing person as of yesterday.”

That brings Jongseob’s head off the counter. “Really?” Then, as the information fully registers, he tilts his head in confusion. “It took them that long?”

“He doesn’t have any family in the area.” For calling it bad news, Jiung seems remarkably unperturbed by it. “It was up to the rest of us to actually report him as missing, and obviously you and I know exactly where he’s been. Shota just thinks he’s being ghosted, most of Keeho’s other friends are too irresponsible or useless to manage something like a missing person’s report. That just leaves Taeyang and Intak.”

That, Jongseob supposes, makes sense. “What convinced them to finally make that call?”

“Keeho missing Shota’s birthday party, ironically,” Jiung says, giving the matching tupperware container and lid he’s holding a little flourish. “Taeyang was willing to excuse a lot, this wouldn’t be the first time Keeho’s fucked off and not answered people’s calls for a while, but missing Shota’s birthday party? Apparently that’s a step too far.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” Jongseob says darkly. 

Giving a noncommittal shrug, Jiung turns away once more. “The whys and whens are neither here nor there. The point is; the police have been notified and the case has officially been opened. Which means we need to keep an eye on things.”

In all fairness, that’s something they’ve been doing already. Though it’s taken a bit of doing, Jongseob and Jiung have been exceptionally careful not to let on there’s an extra person living in the house. It helps that Keeho is hidden away from prying eyes and can’t be heard through the floor in all but one of the back rooms, but it never hurts to be careful. To dot Is and cross Ts to the point of obsessiveness. They’ve come so far already, Jongseob doesn’t want to fuck this up.

“Alright.” Jongseob runs a hand through his hair. “What’s the good news?”

Jiung’s smile is evident in his tone. “He’s finally stopped screaming.”

Jongseob snorts. “Took him long enough.”

“I can’t really blame him,” Jiung admits, as he dances his way across the kitchen. “He’s had a rough go of things, I’d probably scream and cry a bit too. I will admit, nearly three weeks of it is a little overkill, but hey, he’s always been a bit of a drama queen.”

Despite having Keeho captive for the better part of a month, Jongseob hasn’t really spent much time around the man. He pops in and out when he’s required to- he’s not about to make Jiung do this all on his own- but if he can get away with it, he avoids prolonged contact. Uncharitable though it might be, chaining Keeho up in the basement has not made him any less annoying. Jongseob has so many other things he would rather be doing, and countless other people he would rather be seeing in his free time. The less he deals with Keeho, the better.

Because of this, he hasn’t really witnessed much of the screaming fits, or the unbridled temper tantrums, but he’s heard about them plenty.

Understandably, Keeho hasn’t been happy with his sudden and complete captivity. That first week especially was an interesting experience, with the man making near constant attempts to try and escape, to try and coerce them into letting him go, and trying- and failing- to fight them on at least two occasions. It hasn’t gone his way so far, and Jongseob doesn’t expect it to in the future, but Keeho definitely had the spirit of freedom fueling him for that first stretch.

It’s calmed down somewhat in the more recent days, but Jongseob still associates going down to Keeho’s cell with getting yelled at. Not that he particularly cares, or is worried about the man finally getting him to ‘crack’ with one of his many outbursts, but it’s not pleasant. Jiung insists that it’ll only be a matter of time before Keeho becomes the perfect, docile captive. All Jongseob has to say about that is he hopes it happens sooner rather than later.

“As long as he stops making it my problem, I don’t care if he wants to be a drama queen or not,” Jongseob grumbles aloud. “It’s not like it’s going to change anything.”

“Ah, but the hope is still there,” Jiung says, pushing several buttons on the microwave. It hums to life, drowning out the other ambient noises of the room. “We’ll break him of most of that too, don’t worry, but honestly if he rolled over right away, I wouldn’t trust it for a moment.”

“Yeah, but–” Skeptically, Jiung raises an eyebrow at Jongseob and almost immediately, he caves. “I’m allowed to know you’re right and still not like it,” is what he settles on, after a pointed stare off with Jiung that lasts half a minute. “I know this is going to be easier if he’s genuine and we know what he’s thinking, but consider; I don’t like most of his thoughts .”

Pulling a that sucks, I’m stronger face, Jiung shrugs. “Are they good, no! But I don’t know, I’d still give him a passing grade. Yeah, he’s annoying, but he’s funny.”

“I don’t think that’s a factor here anymore,” Jongseob points out. “We have him locked in the basement. Whether he’s funny or not is irrelevant.”

“If you aren’t finding this funny, that’s your problem. I think this shit is hilarious.”

The microwave beeps. Instantly, Jiung’s attention is drawn elsewhere, leaving Jongseob to stew in his thoughts for a little bit. 

He’s not sure if he agrees with Jiung that this is funny. Personally, he’s very serious about what he’s doing. Jongseob isn’t going to all this trouble for a joke, he’s doing this to get Shota a boyfriend. Sure, there’s a certain amount of irony to bits and pieces of the process, but that’s not something he’s laughing at.

Maybe if I were laughing, this would be a lot more tolerable, he thinks somewhat gloomily, as he watches Jiung’s back. At least if I were having fun with it, it wouldn’t feel like such a chore every time I have to deal with Keeho.

“Are we even making any steps in the right direction?” When Jiung gives him a little hmm? Jongseob elaborates. “I mean, other than the screaming part. Has he said anything about Shota?”

“Nothing yet.” Jiung makes a thoroughly dismissive gesture. “But I wouldn’t be too worried about it. Even if he doesn’t say a single word about him, eventually, we’ll re-introduce Shota into his daily routine anyway. Trust me, from then on, he’ll be all Keeho thinks about.”

“I’m glad you’re confident.”

“And you should be too.” Turning around, dirty spatula in one hand and a half full Tupperware in the other, Jiung firmly says, “It’s going to be conviction that gets us through this, Jongseob. We kidnapped a man. We have him in our basement. If we don’t believe this is going to work, then it won’t. I’m telling you, that’s how these things work.”

Jongseob is fairly certain that belief has very little to do with brainwashing someone, but he doesn’t say that. Instead, he scowls and grumbles, “I’m just complaining, alright? I knew this wasn’t gonna be fun, and it isn’t. I’m not saying that I don’t believe we’re going to pull it off, I’m just… Stating my gripes for an audience.”

The momentarily serious look on Jiung’s face melts, and he cracks a smile. “Ahh, I know that man. Some things you gotta say for your benefit and no one else’s.” Flipping back to what he was doing, the man cheerfully adds, “Annnd- you’re about to have some new reasons to complain.”

“Oh joy,” Jongseob deadpans, walking around the island so he can get a better look at what Jiung’s doing.

Presenting Jongseob with the full Tupperware he’s been fussing with, Jiung gives him an expression full of teeth. “You’re on dinner duty.”

Accepting the container dubiously, along with the baby-safe rubber spoon Jiung passes him, Jongseob wonders aloud, “Are we out of plates?”

“Close.” Jiung’s grin gains another few watts. “We’re down exactly one plate. He broke it! And tried to stab me with it.”

 When Jongseob’s eyebrows shoot up, Jiung waves a hand. “I mean, he didn’t get anywhere with it. Definitely had the passion but he hesitated. And y’know, not hard to disarm someone like Keeho.”

“Any other damage?” Jongseob wonders, as he tries to picture Keeho wielding what amounts to a prison shiv. 

Jiung’s little laugh is incredibly derogatory. “Only to himself. Tried to wrap it with some of his undershirt but he fucked up and sliced his hand open.” Jiggling his leg, the man sheepishly admits, “That might have been half the reason I beat him. Not hard to disarm a guy when he’s already on the floor wailing.”

“Well, it’s certainly creative,” Jongseob grudgingly comments, with a little tilt of his head. “Didn’t think Keeho of all people would’ve had it in him.”

“Trust me, I was just as shocked. Not disappointed, but shocked.” Running a somewhat dirty hand through his hair, Jiung says, “It was clearly a crime of sleep-deprivation and panic, he probably won’t try it again. But just in case–”

“No plates?”

“No plates.”

Taking a second to find a grip on the Tupperware that isn’t uncomfortably hot, Jongseob looks back up at Jiung. “Is that all?”

“You know it isn’t,” Jiung says sweetly.

Groaning, Jongseob complains, “I’m always on shit bucket duty. Can’t you clean it for once?”

“Hey, I will have you know, I clean it too. I mean, I have definitely cleaned it before. At some point. Besides–” Already, Jiung’s hassling Jongseob out of the kitchen, pushing him towards the living room and inevitably the basement door. “I have to stay here with him for most of the day, so consider this a fair trade. At least you’re able to go out and live a life. Sometimes. Maybe.”

“I think my personal life is doing fine,” Jongseob mutters, swatting Jiung’s hands away and moving of his own volition towards the basement.

“Sure it is buddy.” Visibly, Jiung holds back a laugh. “I bet that’s what every person who decides to kidnap somebody says. Just a veritable social butterfly, you are.”

Scoffing, Jongseob ignores Jiung’s heckling and opens the basement door, flips on the lights, and heads downstairs.

Well, Jiung was right about one thing- the basement is shockingly quiet compared to how it’s been. There’s no yelling, no hateful or desperate words being hurled, there isn’t even any sobbing. It’s just the usual clanking and groaning of the pipes, the hum of the extra freezer, and the unsettling inhale and exhale of the furnace. Somehow, Jongseob doubts the peace is going to last, but he’s fully willing to enjoy it while it’s here.

The vacuum is still sitting outside of Keeho’s room, evidence of the recent plate incident. Looking at it for a second, Jongseob makes a mental note to bring it upstairs with him later before fishing the keys to Keeho’s cell out of his pocket.

Really, there’s no reason to keep the door locked. If anyone’s made it down here this far that’s not supposed to be there, it’s probably too late to salvage the situation anyway. Similarly, Keeho’s already chained up inside. Chances are, if he can get out of those shackles, he can figure out his way around the locked door. Still, there’s something fitting about it. Something about that heavy shink of the deadbolt sliding free that pleases Jongseob as the door creaks open, and he’s able to edge his way into the badly lit room.

“Hey you,” he calls, as he steps fully into Keeho’s cell. “Make yourself presentable, it’s dinnertime.”

The first thing that hits Jongseob as he enters is, as always, the smell. Considering they haven’t given Keeho access to a shower or, more importantly, a proper toilet, it’s unsurprisingly foul. Nothing but a wave of human misery that rolls over him as he walks in. And yet somehow, it pales in comparison to the person slumped on the other side of the room.

As you might imagine, the Keeho that picks himself up off the mattress and blinks blearily at Jongseob is nothing like the man they kidnapped. His clothes are dirty, his cheeks are sunken, his eyes have dark circles practically tattooed around them. His hair has about half an inch of new growth, and looks unimaginably greasy. There are sores on the bits of Keeho’s bared skin where he’s clearly itched himself raw.

Beyond that though, beyond the dirt and the grime and the obvious signs of mistreatment, Keeho’s eyes still burn. He may not be screaming anymore, but he’s a long way from actually breaking.

“No plate?” Keeho croaks out, his voice rough with disuse.

“You’ve lost plate privileges,” Jongseob says flatly, setting Keeho’s meal on the little table in the corner. It used to be that he would hand the man his food first thing when he walked in and then go about cleaning his cell. After Keeho decided to throw the food back in his face one night, he adjusted his routine accordingly.

Lifting his bandaged hand up in front of his face, Keeho mumbles, “Yeah, I guess.”

Compared to normal, the man is being shockingly even-keeled. Deciding to take the reprieve where he can get it, Jongseob steps over to Keeho’s side of the room and retrieves the man’s empty water bottle. “Maybe don’t stab people next time,“ he suggests, as he squints at the crumpled plastic to determine whether he should get Keeho a new bottle entirely. “It’s antisocial.”

“I’ve been told it was funny,” Keeho says, as he watches Jongseob walk back out of his cell.

“Jiung thinks everything’s funny,” Jongseob calls over his shoulder, as he rinses Keeho’s water bottle out in the nearby bathroom sink before filling it once more. “That doesn’t count for shit.”

They’ve been trying to keep the man properly hydrated, or at least, not damagingly dehydrated, but it’s a struggle. Jiung seems to think giving Keeho more than one water bottle at a time would be spoiling him. Jongseob has pointed out that the repeated trips down to the basement are a pain in the ass. Jiung’s solution was ‘so don’t go down there so often, this isn’t rocket science’.

The result is Keeho gets watered. Sometimes, when they feel like it.

“I think you guys should’ve expected it,” Keeho tells Jongseob flatly, as he fiddles with the spot on his eyebrow where his piercing used to sit. “Like, you had to have known I’d try eventually.”

Tossing the full water bottle in Keeho’s direction, Jongseob’s eyes narrow, “Not a good excuse.”

“Didn’t say it was an excuse,” Keeho mumbles, turning the water bottle over in his hands. “Just making a statement.”

Ignoring the pointedly put-out look on Keeho’s face, Jongseob gives the room another once over. Jiung did his due diligence in picking up after the broken plate, but he still wants to check for anything that got missed. Just in case, you know? If it’s all the same to everyone, he’d rather Keeho not find a weapon down here when they don’t expect it.

Sure enough, a little bit of poking at the corners of the cell produces a smaller, but still decently sharp chunk of porcelain. It’s on the side of the room that Keeho’s chain can’t reach, but Jongseob cleans it up all the same.

“We should’ve made you clean that shit up with a broom and dustpan,” Jongseob mutters, as he holds the broken plate shard up to the light of the single bulb.

“A broom could be used as a weapon,” Keeho says, with just a hint of bitter humor lacing his tone.

“It could,” Jongseob acknowledges, giving Keeho a deadpan stare. “Or you could cooperate for once.”

Keeho doesn’t answer that one. Instead, he just sits there, staring at the plate fragment sullenly, like he’s still pissed that it didn’t work. Well, fair enough, he’s within his rights to be upset about a failed escape attempt. Just like Jongseob can be irritated the man tried at all.

“You’re not making this easier on yourself,” he says, slipping the bit of broken plate into his pocket where he’ll no doubt forget about it and cut himself later. “Sit there and pout about it all you like, but acting out isn’t going to get you shit.”

“Then what will?” Keeho asks, he already knows the answer.

All Jongseob does is give him a short, pointed look before making a disgusted sound under his breath and looking away.

“You know,” Keeho starts, in a tone of voice Jongseob has become deeply familiar with. “There’s another way to solve this.”

“No,” Jongseob says flatly, without letting Keeho finish.

“Oh come on.” Keeho almost sounds reasonable. It’s in voice, his body language, his expression. Despite being bedraggled, dirty, dehydrated and starved, the man knows how to sound convincing. How to get people to listen. “It would be easier for everyone, you know I’m right.”

“I don’t care.” Jongseob looks away from Keeho, unimpressed. “That’s not what this is about.”

“The only thing you’re doing is making more trouble for yourself.” Shifting, his chain clinking as he does, Keeho leans towards Jongseob. “We both know that keeping me down here is an imposition on both you and Jiung. I can see it on his face and I can definitely see it on yours. If you let me go, we can sit down, figure out what it was you actually kidnapped me for, and talk it out like adults. I know we can.”

When Jongseob inevitably ignores him, Keeho resolutely continues, in that cajoling tone that might’ve been convincing in any other situation. “I know it’s something we can fix, otherwise you wouldn’t be keeping me alive. Jiung said himself, if my behavior changes, you’ll let me go, so there’s got to be a compromise here. This doesn’t have to be your solution.”

But it does, that’s the kicker. Just telling Keeho to humor Shota and date him isn’t going to work, it has to be Keeho’s idea. It has to be real. If Jongseob wasn’t convinced of that before, he definitely is now. 

“Too bad, this is what we picked.”

“Man-” Lifting his hand briefly, Keeho lets it fall again before shaking his head. “I realize you’ve never liked me, but I know you’re not a bad person. I know you’ve got morals, this isn’t– you have to understand how fucked up doing something like this is.”

Jongseob’s only reaction is to shrug. Admittedly, he does know it’s fucked up, but he doesn’t care. And Keeho must know he doesn’t care, because he switches tactics, as he so often does.

“I know that Jiung is crazy, I accepted that when I became his friend, but you– you’re not. You’re kind of an asshole, but you’re not a lunatic. You’re normal.” It’s amazing how much conviction Keeho manages to cram into each of his words, given the situation. “Whatever it is that I did wrong that pissed you off so bad you had to kidnap me over it; let me go, we’ll talk about it, and I’ll do better.”

Shaking his head, Jongseob says, “You will do better, but we’re not letting you out.”

As a sound of frustration builds the back of his throat, Keeho runs a hand through his hair. The greasy strands stick up at odd angles, making him look more frantic than usual. “If my behavior or whatever really pisses you off that bad, I can just not spend time with you guys. Like, we don’t have to be friends. Just because Jiung’s friends with Taeyang and you’re friends with Shota doesn’t mean I have to spend time around you.”

Jongseob just pulls a face. He wishes that were true. He wishes he could just cut Keeho out of his life and be done with it, but this was never about how much or little he liked the man. It’s always been about Shota. Except if he explains that, he ruins it, so he keeps his mouth shut.

“I can’t believe how I act is enough for you to do this,” Keeho scoffs, completely unaware of Jongseob’s internal dialog. “Like, I know my personality can be polarizing, but I’m not a bad person. I’ve never done anything awful to you. I’ve never done anything terrible to Jiung! Doing this over a- a personality quirk is unreasonable. Why does it have to be any of your business?”

“Good question,” Jongseob mutters, with a little curl of his upper lip. 

“I think I deserve an answer.”

Unmoved, Jongseob crosses his arms. “Because it is my business. Whether I want it to be or not.”

“Just because you and Shota are joined at the hip-” Keeho starts, aggravation welling up in his voice. “Doesn’t mean you get to police me. In any way. Just tell your friends not to bring me up or invite me to shit. Like anyone else would do.”

Leaning back against the table, Jongseob gives another half shrug. “Didn’t really ask for your opinion on my methods.”

Briefly, Keeho’s face contorts, before he struggles to reign himself back in. “Fine, if you don’t care about what I think, then what about Shota?” When Jongseob’s eyes snap to the man’s face, he immediately seizes upon the point. “Have you ever considered what he’d say about you keeping me locked up like this?”

Actually, Jongseob’s been working hard not to think about it. Inevitably, he knows he’s going to have to tell Shota at some point. The man’s involvement is crucial to this plan working. As much as he’d love to keep this a secret forever, eventually, he’s going to have to bite the bullet.

But that particular internal struggle is none of Keeho’s business, so Jongseob says as much. “I didn’t ask for his opinion either.”

Keeho sneers at him. “I thought he was your best friend? Is that really how little you care about him? That you’d just lock up someone he cares about and mistreat them for- what- for fun? He’d hate you for what you’re doing to me right now.”

Eyebrows twitching, Jongseob bluntly says, “If you think that’s true then you have vastly misunderstood both him and his friendship with me.”

“I think you don’t understand how important I am to him,” Keeho fires back, just as fast.

I do, Jongseob wants to snap. I do understand how important you are to him and that’s why you’re here right now. Because I can’t convince him that you’re a bad decision. So I’m going to fix it. One way or another.

“It’s not going to change my mind,” Jongseob says, tipping his chin up.

“It should,” Keeho spits. “You should care about what he thinks. I would. But heaven forbid you give a shit about anything. Even Shota.”

“Throwing him in my face isn’t going to get you anywhere,” Jongseob tells Keeho. He’s not some magic get out of jail free card for you. And frankly, I’m insulted you’d try to use him like that.  

“You know I’m just trying to solve this peacefully.” Hands clenching into fists, Keeho pulls himself onto his knees. “I don’t want to have this end in you and Jiung rotting in a prison cell, but you realize that’s where this is going to go if you don’t let me go.”

“They’ll have to find you first,” Jongseob says, with a thin, mirthless smile. 

“Someone will.” Keeho’s nose wrinkles. “Jiung can pretend to be a genius all he wants, but he’s not. He never has been. Eventually he’s going to slip up. You’re going to slip up. Taeyang is going to find out, or Intak is going to realize, or hell, Shota is going to figure it out and someone is going to start talking. And when that happens, it’s going to be over for you.”

Absently, Jongseob pulls the fragment of plate out of his pocket and gives it another look. “I’m so scared.”

Keeho laughs, but it’s an ugly sound. “You should be. I know you’re too- too fucking egotistical to think this through, but this is the kind of thing that gets you put away for life. You’ll die in prison.” His expression fills with derision. “One way or another.”

Gesturing with his piece of porcelain, Jongseob points out, “Threatening me doesn’t help your case.”

“It’s not a threat, it’s a warning.” Baring his teeth, Keeho does his best to stare Jongseob down, something that’s not nearly as threatening as it would be if the man wasn’t still on the floor and chained to the wall. “If you don’t let me go, if the authorities are the ones to set me free, then I’m going to press charges. I can think of at least eight felonies off the top of my head they can hit you with, and I bet we can slap some misdemeanors on top of that as well. I will ruin your life.”

Running his finger over the sharp edge of the plate shard, Jongseob’s mouth pulls when it splits his skin. Not enough to draw blood, but enough to send a brief flare of pain to his thumb. “You’re not going to get that far, Keeho. Because you’re not getting out.”

“Eventually I will,” Keeho promises, with that sort of fierce determination that Jongseob might have admired from anyone else in any other context. “You two are going to get lazy, or I’m going to figure something out, and then I’m going to escape, and I’ll make sure the two of you regret this for the rest of your lives.”

Coolly, Jongseob’s eyes fix on Keeho. “That implies you’re going to live that long.”

For the first time since Jongseob walked into the man’s cell today, a flicker of uncertainty and fear passes through Keeho’s eyes. It isn’t much, but it’s something. A moment of hesitation where he realizes that actually, he’s not the one with the power here. No matter how much he wishes he was, no matter how much he’s using his own blustering confidence as a shield, he’s still the one being held captive, and consequences not withstanding, Jongseob can do whatever he wants to him with impunity.

Of course, the chilling effect that knowledge has doesn’t last long, but it’s there. However fleetingly, it’s there.

“You-” Drawing a heavy breath, Keeho growls, “You’re a monster.”

Unimpressed, Jongseob rolls his eyes.

“You’re torturing me, another human being. You’re threatening to kill me.” Stumbling to his feet, Keeho tries to bring himself to Jongseob’s level, even in this small way. “I- I can’t even fathom how shitty a person you have to be to do something like that. How do you fucking sleep at night.”

“Easily.”

“I can’t believe I ever thought you were a good guy.” Voice rising, as frantic as he is angry, Keeho snaps,  You don’t deserve to be friends with someone like Shota. He’s such a good kid and you’re a fucking psychopath.”

Kid. Right. Well, Jongseob’s given Keeho some time to let off steam, but he only has so much interest in being yelled at. Especially if the man is just going to dig himself a hole in the process. Jongseob actually doesn’t have a headache right now, and he’d rather not change that. No, better to do the job he came here to do and leave.

Giving Keeho one last unimpressed look, Jongseob pushes himself off the table, pockets the plate shard once more, and steps over to the man’s shit bucket. 

“What, was that one step too far?” Keeho growls, taking a step towards Jongseob. “It’s not like I’m saying anything untrue. If you don’t like it, maybe try doing something worthwhile for once in your goddamn life. Like letting me go and praying I have more mercy than you did.”

It’s just noise at this point. Jongseob’s far more focused on carefully carrying Keeho’s bucket of waste towards the door without spilling it. He’d made that mistake. Once. Ever since then he’s been exceptionally judicious in how he handles the shit bucket. 

“Do you even give a shit about anything I’m saying right now?” Keeho demands, as Jongseob steps towards the door.

Pausing, Jongseob gives him a look. “Honestly Keeho, no. And so far, you haven’t given me a good reason why I should.”

When he snaps, Jongseob sees it in Keeho’s eyes a good several seconds before it happens. Which is why when the man lunges for him, Jongseob doesn’t bother reacting. He just watches as the man jumps before being inevitably yanked back by the chain around his ankle.

Anticlimactically, Keeho falls to the concrete floor once more, only narrowly avoiding faceplanting in the process. Instead, he catches himself with his hands and knees, before proceeding to let out a grunt of pain and roll over so he can cradle his already injured hand. Watching unsurprised as blood starts to stain the medical tape, Jongseob’s mouth twists.

“Fuck,” Keeho curses, before giving a whine that sounds like it’s just on the edge of turning to tears. “Fuck fuck fuck.”

“Dunno what you expected,” Jongseob says, unsympathetic.

“Fuck you,” Keeho pants out, as he presses on his hand like he’s trying to staunch the bleeding. “I- I should have fucking gone home with that guy at the bar. At least then you two wouldn’t have been able to kidnap me. I’d actually be home right now. But fuck me for trying to be responsible, right? Fuck.”

Immediately, Jongseob’s mood sours. He knows this is the very thing they’re trying to fix, he knows Keeho’s never actually given a shit about Shota, but hearing it like this, however indirectly, leaves a bad taste in the back of his mouth. And you had the nerve to act that excited about throwing him a party. To tell me I don’t deserve to be his friend. Like you deserve him at all.

For not the first time, Jongseob dearly wishes he could kill Keeho.

But no, he can’t. Because Shota would be sad, and Jiung would be disappointed. And as much as Jongseob fucking hates Keeho right now, he’s supposed to be training the man, not taking the piece of broken plate in his pocket and gutting him.

Which is why, instead, he looks down at the shit bucket in his hand and carries it right back over to where it was before. Because that’s how training works, right? Carrots for the good behavior, and sticks for the bad. With time, he’ll learn. Or he won’t, but that’s Keeho’s problem, not his.

If he’s going to talk about fucking other men, he can suffer the consequences.

Making direct and pointed eye-contact with Keeho, Jongseob sets the bucket back down. Then, without giving the man time to process it, he goes over to the table and picks up the tupperware full of food. 

“What are you-?”

“You can eat tomorrow,” Jongseob interrupts. “Once you’ve learned some manners.”

He’s out and has the door locked before Keeho can try to argue.

￩￮￫◉￩￮￫

“You know,” Jiung comments as Jongseob emerges back out of the basement, food still in hand and a scowl on his face. “You’re supposed to give that to him. Like, that’s kind of part of this whole process.”

“He can have it later,” Jongseob grunts, before tossing it onto the coffee table along with the baby spoon.

“Did you even clean the shit bucket?” Jiung asks, wilting slightly.

Giving Jiung a look, like he’s daring the man to disagree, Jongseob slowly says, “If he’s good, he can have that privilege back later too.”

For a moment, the two of them stare at each other, as Jiung clearly tries to work out if Jongseob is being unfair. Just as firmly, Jongseob tries to communicate without words that he frankly doesn’t care if it seems like he’s being unfair, he’s not budging on this one. 

Eventually, it’s Jiung that caves and looks away first.

“Fine, I’ll handle it tomorrow morning.”

By increments, Jongseob relaxes. “Alright.”

Unfortunately for them all, brainwashing Keeho is definitely going to take a while.

￩￮￫◉￩￮￫

Chapter Text

￩￮￫◉￩￮￫

Bored, Jongseob flips through Netflix on Jiung’s TV.

It’s late, late enough he should probably be considering heading back to the dorms, but he hasn’t yet worked up the energy required to move himself. His homework is spread out haphazardly on the cushions beside him; his laptop is sitting open on the coffee table. There’s absolutely work he could be doing, but instead he’s slowly becoming one with the couch, cycling through the same few lists of movies as he tries to find something vaguely interesting to turn on.

He’s craving noise. It’s too quiet up here.

It’s sleeting outside, late February bringing with it a whole new breed of miserable weather. Jongseob remembered his jacket today, but nothing, not even Jiung giving him a ride, is going to make the icy rain more pleasant. Theoretically, things are supposed to be getting warmer, but he suspects they’ll be dealing with this unpleasant middle ground well into April.

Technically, he doesn’t even need to be here. Jongseob says technically, because up until about an hour ago, this whole visit was very carefully scheduled. To the extent he’d made excuses to Shota and shifted aside other plans to show up.

Tonight was supposed to be one of those rare nights Jiung actually left the house and went out to do things. Taeyang had invited him to hang out at a local bar they both enjoyed, Jiung had agreed; he’d even got all dressed up for it. But, unfortunately, at the last minute, Taeyang had canceled. Officially, he’d said it was because he was under the weather and didn’t want to go out. Unofficially, Jiung had gotten a text from Intak about twenty minutes later that’d made it clear the real reason Taeyang didn’t want to go out was because he was too depressed over Keeho’s disappearance to get out of bed.

So, in lieu of the friend time he’d originally been promised, Jiung had decided to take Jongseob’s shift downstairs with Keeho. Ostensibly, he said it was because he was bored and needling their captive was a good way to pass time. In reality, Jongseob suspects that Jiung is missing his friends just as much as Taeyang is missing his.

Probably, there’s a greater point to make about all of that, something about the consequences of kidnapping people. Fortunately, Jongseob doesn’t care enough to make it.

Though, speaking of, that’s a new thing that Jiung has insisted they start doing. Actually spending time with Keeho instead of leaving him to simply rot alone in the basement. Which is what they had been doing, in the interests of giving the man time to properly stew in his own shit.

Personally, Jongseob thinks Keeho can get fucked. He doesn’t care about something as inconsequential as whether or not the man is lonely, and he would rather not spend his free time around somebody he doesn’t particularly like. Jiung had insisted though. Apparently, this is another important step in the rehabilitation plan. Apparently, they have to spend time around Keeho to know if he’s saying the right things and thinking about the right people. If they leave them alone all the time, who’s to say if he’s thinking about Shota or not!

 And besides, Jiung had insisted to Jongseob a week ago when they started this new variety of Keeho-care. He’s been so well-behaved! We have to reward him somehow.

Keeho has been there for about a month now, give or take a couple days. Jongseob had expected the time would crawl by slowly, and so far, he’s been proven right. He swears he’s lived several lifetimes since they first put Keeho in Jiung’s basement, and it’s looking distinctly like he’s going to have to live many many more. But those are the breaks. Can’t exactly let the man go now, not that Jongseob particularly wants to.

According to, as Jiung calls it, his ‘guy on the inside’, the investigation into what’s happened to Keeho has gone nowhere. Oh sure, people have been trying to get it to go somewhere. Notably, Keeho’s family has been throwing money at the problem, in the hopes of finding their eldest son. But alas, it hasn’t produced results. Jongseob hasn’t gotten so much as a phone call, much less a knock at his dorm room door.

Jiung did, a couple days ago, finally get a call from the police, but his apologetic, no, Keeho hasn’t contacted me, had been enough to turn them away again. So far, no one’s suspected either of them of foul play. Though it might be a bit presumptuous, even foolish to think so, Jongseob somehow expects it’s going to stay like that.

Flipping through the various movies and TV shows Netflix has to offer once again, Jongseob lets out a sigh. He should probably leave. He won’t be able to reclaim much of his evening, but surely Shota would be down to go fuck around somewhere for a while. If it stops sleeting, they could go get snacks from one of the nearby gas stations. That, or Jongseob can listen to another one of Shota’s incredibly detailed breakdowns of this newer Pokémon game and how it’s destroyed the meta of certain moves and Pokémon. That would at least eat up time…

Or, maybe, he could help Jiung out by cleaning up some of the house. The upstairs house, not the basement. Since Keeho got here, there have been a lot of chores that keep falling by the wayside. Obviously, the two of them have been doing their best to keep up with it, but there’s only so much to be done. And it’s not like they can hire a housekeeper or ask anybody else for help with the mess. Not with a man in their basement.

As one might imagine, all of it sounds boring. If it had been earlier, Jongseob might’ve hit up some of his other friends to hang with, but it’s a bit too late to go making plans. Jisung is probably busy with his boyfriend, and it’s anybody’s guess whether Seongyeob even looks at his phone, much less takes the time to answer his messages.

Just get off your ass, Jongseob tells himself, his eyes drifting again towards the gray, cold outdoors. At least go get an energy drink, otherwise you’re going to fall asleep like this.

He probably shouldn’t be imbibing that much caffeine this close to eight pm at night but who cares. He’s probably going to be stuck here at least until midnight anyway.

Beside him, Jongseob’s phone buzzes.

Shaking off his lethargy just enough to look, Jongseob puts his hand on the device and pulls it closer. On the display, Jiung’s name blinks up at him. Furrowing his brows, because usually they make a point of not bringing their cell phones into Keeho’s cell, Jongseob unlocks his phone and looks at the message.

From: JIUNG 🐹 [8:03 PM, Saturday]

To: Jongseob

Get ur ass down here right now

From: Jongseob [8:03 PM, Saturday]

To: JIUNG 🐹

?????

From: Jongseob [8:04 PM, Saturday]

To: JIUNG 🐹

everything ok???

From: JIUNG 🐹 [8:04 PM, Saturday]

To: Jongseob

Everythings fine

From: JIUNG 🐹 [8:04 PM, Saturday]

To: Jongseob

But u gotta hear Keekee

From: JIUNG 🐹 [8:04 PM, Saturday]

To: Jongseob

This is important

From: Jongseob [8:05 PM, Saturday]

To: JIUNG 🐹

i hear him enough

From: Jongseob [8:05 PM, Saturday]

To: JIUNG 🐹

tell me later

From: JIUNG 🐹 [8:05 PM, Saturday]

To: Jongseob

No u have to HEAR HIM

From: JIUNG 🐹 [8:05 PM, Saturday]

To: Jongseob

GET UR ASS DOWN HERE ILL DRAG YOU 

IF I HAVE TO

From: JIUNG 🐹 [8:06 PM, Saturday]

To: Jongseob

UR GONNA MISS IT AND IM GOING TO 

HAVE TO KILL YOU

From: Jongseob [8:06 PM, Saturday]

To: JIUNG 🐹

FINE

Tossing the phone back down onto the couch beside him, Jongseob spends another few seconds staring at the ceiling and regretting his indecision in not just leaving when he has the chance. Unfortunately, a moment later his phone starts blowing up again, and he realizes that Jiung really isn’t going to let him rest until he goes downstairs.

And so, it’s with a certain amount of bitterness at the irony of the situation that Jongseob gets to his feet, adjusts his clothes, and heads for the basement door.

Like usual, Jiung has forgotten to turn on most of the basement lights, despite the fact he’s currently down there. Dutifully, Jongseob flicks each of them on, so he doesn’t run into anything and accidentally kill himself. As he gets closer to Keeho’s cell, the sounds of the furnace and water heater fill the air, cut through very faintly by the sound of voices.

“I just think it’s fucked up, you know?”

“Right, right– totally!”

“You aren’t even listening to me.”

Creeping closer, careful to keep his footsteps as light and soundless as possible, Jongseob pauses by Keeho’s open door. There, sitting at the small table as usual, legs crossed, chin propped up on his elbows, and eyes fixed delightedly on Keeho, is Jiung. Though Jongseob can’t see the man in question, he can definitely hear his voice. Can hear the aggravation, the impatience, and just a touch of the desperation lingering behind every word.

For the most part, Keeho’s mellowed lately, especially compared to before. Where early into his captivity, the man had been almost constantly fighting the two of them, now he’s given up on a lot of the more overt resistance. He’s still argumentative, and Jongseob’s aware it’s going to take a lot more time for that to change, but overall he seems slightly more resigned.

He's depressed, Jiung has gleefully informed Jongseob more than once. The loneliness and depression are setting in.

Jongseob’s not enough of a psychologist to know if that’s exactly the case, but he’s happy for the change. Dealing with the full brunt of Keeho’s belligerence every second of every day was getting to be a little tiresome.

“I’m definitely listening,” Jiung assures Keeho as Jongseob watches, his smile stretching another half inch. “Like, absolutely listening.”

“Yeah, but you don’t care.” Keeho’s voice is sharp, each of his words very deliberately barbed. “Just like you don’t care about Shota. I mean, I don’t know why I’m surprised, you’re clearly willing to- to kidnap someone and hold them against their will, but I honestly thought you had a little more empathy than this.”

“Yes yes, I’m horrible, but I’m still not sure how Shota factors into any of this,” Jiung hums, not glancing at Jongseob but making it clear with the subtle shifts in his body language that he knows Jongseob has arrived. “You should elaborate.”

“Why should I say shit, it’s not like it means anything to you.” Resentment swims through Keeho’s tone. “Clearly you didn’t care the first time I said it.”

“Yes, but you’re saying I don’t care about Shota. I’m hurt!” There’s nothing in Jiung’s voice that suggests that he’s hurt, but in fairness, that’s the way the man approaches just about everything in his life. “Implying that I don’t care about one of my close friends. How could you?”

“Well, clearly you don’t care about me.”

“I do care about you. You’re still alive, aren’t you?” Jiung’s smile is nearly heart-shaped. “And I’ve known Shota far longer than I’ve known you.”

“Like I believe that makes a difference.” Keeho’s not quite growling but his voice is heavy with aggression. “When was the last time you talked to him? Or invited him over? Or went out and did something with him? Did you guys even remember to throw him a birthday party, or were you too busy down here to be a good friend?”

Though Jiung’s expression doesn’t change, Jongseob hesitates.

They… Didn’t not throw Shota a birthday party. I mean, everyone had definitely told him happy birthday, and there had been presents. Granted, nobody had managed to be on top of things enough to remember a cake, but Jongseob had taken the man out for ice cream. That counted, right?

Instantly, Jongseob is taken back to the night they kidnapped Keeho. The topic of a surprise party had come up then too, just before they’d jumped Keeho. Something about already having plans for one. Considering the fact that everyone had been a little too concerned about Keeho going missing at that point, said party had never really materialized.

“You didn’t remember.” There’s something incredibly vindictive about the way Keeho says those words. “You know, I actually had something I was putting together. I was going to take him out to eat, and then I was going to bring him back to my place and we were all going to throw him a proper party. I even had a cake scheduled to be delivered. Did anyone ever find it on my porch? Or did you guys leave it there to rot because you were too busy being shitty fucking people.”

“Well, in our defense, we didn’t know about the cake,” Jiung points out. “And for your information, we did celebrate.”

“Yeah, but I promised Shota that we do something special for his birthday.” Jongseob still can’t see Keeho’s face, but he can hear the way the man’s words stutter slightly, as the anger in his voice inadvertently shifts to something else. “I had something planned, I wanted it to be special for him, and because of you guys kidnapping me, he got… nothing. No, worse than nothing. He got something lazy.”

Giving a hmm of understanding, Jiung cheerfully says, “The plans you had with Shota aren’t any of my business.”

“Yeah, okay, but whose fault is it that they’ve fallen through?” There’s a clink of chains and the brush of socks on concrete as Keeho gets to his feet. “I was trying to make an effort, you asshat. I was– look, I know you don’t give a shit, but I actually care about my relationship with Shota. I care about him.”

Jongseob blinks.

They’ve had Keeho down here for a while, and this is far from the first time he’s brought up Shota up, but this is the first time he’s gotten even remotely personal with it. Going so far as to say he cares. Not just thinking it, Not just using Shota as another weapon against them, but actually talking about his relationship with the man.

Granted, Jongseob doubts the veracity of Keeho’s statements. He’s seen this man fuck around with Shota’s feelings for years. He knows how flimsy that care can be. But… This is something. However hollow it might be, it’s still a step in the right direction.

For the first time in a month, he actually thinks he understands Jiung’s insane belief that this is going to work.

“Again, not my problem,” Jiung says, though now Jongseob can better understand the glee in the man’s voice.

“Fuck you, I was trying to fix things.” There’s a bit of silence after those words, like he’s processing the implications of his own sentence, before Keeho lets out a frustrated breath. “Now he– he probably thinks I don’t give a shit. Oh, there Keeho goes again, forgetting important things. Skipping out on a- a birthday. He probably thinks I’m doing it on purpose.”

“Are you sure he’s paid that much attention,” Jiung asks, without an ounce of sympathy. 

“I– I don’t know.” Making an ugly sound in the back of his throat, Keeho suddenly snaps, “No, I do know. I know that he cares about me. Even when I– even when I wasn’t treating him the best, he still cared. He’s actually a good person, unlike you.”

“I really don’t see how I’m the bad guy here.” Smoothly, Jiung’s eyes shift to the side and latch onto Jongseob’s. Between them, there passes a certain amount of silent conversation, words that Keeho isn’t privy to.

Are you seeing this, Jiung’s eyes say, with no small amount of excitement. He’s talking about Shota, he’s actually talking about Shota.

Just as easily, Jongseob responds with a scowl that clearly responds, I don’t know if this is as big a deal as you’re making it out to be. He’s still being a bastard about it.

Progress is progress, says the little twitch of Jiung’s mouth. We’re getting somewhere. I think that’s worth a little celebration, don’t you?

Jongseob’s not sure if that’s the case, but at least for the time being, he’s too preoccupied with listening to Keeho to think deeply about it.

“You are the bad guy because I’m currently rotting in your basement,” Keeho grits out through his teeth. “You just had to go and fuck up my chances.”

Instantly, Jiung presses. “Your chance to do what?”

Jongseob waits, maybe even holds his breath for Keeho to open his mouth and finally admit to the very thing they’ve all kind of known has been true all this time. The thing he’s been so scared of saying out loud for far too long. A second of silence goes by. Then five. Then a few more. Finally, after an agonizing seventeen seconds of hesitation, Keeho just gives a frustrated sigh.

“I don’t know… Get closer to him, I guess. Get to know him better?” Keeho’s voice is shockingly raw, like even saying this much is too revealing. “To show him that I– I really care.”

Jongseob exhales. He should have known that would have been too easy, but he swears it should be that simple. Listen to yourself Keeho? What’s it going to fucking take for you to admit how you feel about him? Or is the man really so much of an indecisive coward that even under these conditions, he can’t be honest.

Clicking his tongue, Jiung gives his head a little shake. “You may have already mentioned that,” he comments, almost like he’s reading Jongseob’s mind.

“What else do you want me to say?” Keeho demands. “I don’t want him to hate me. And he probably does now that I’ve missed his birthday and–” He trips over his words again. “And a bunch of other stuff. I’m surprised he even still talks to me, but the fact that he does matters to me. Like-” Fishing for more to say, the man’s chain clinks against itself. “I don’t know, I just miss him.”

For once, Jiung doesn’t bother with a snarky rejoinder. And maybe it’s the lack of something stupid popping out of his mouth that convinces Keeho to continue.

“I fucked up the last time we went on a date.” Jongseob almost coughs at hearing Keeho openly refer to him and Shota going somewhere as a date . Not just them hanging out, not something else. No, he’s being up front about what it was. “I was excited to see him, and I know he was excited to see me, but I got all stuck up in my head about it and I kept thinking about how many times I’d messed this up before and I– I don’t know, I should’ve stayed.” For once, the man sounds genuinely regretful. “I should’ve just grown a pair and not left early.”

“Hindsight is always twenty-twenty,” Jiung murmurs, almost like he actually feels bad for Keeho. “You couldn’t have known.”

“Yeah, but I should have stayed anyway. That’s not an excuse.”

Personally, Jongseob doesn’t sympathize with Keeho, but he does spend a second feeling bad for Shota. The way Keeho’s talking about it, this isn’t the first time he’s walked out on one of their dates early. How many times has it happened and Shota just hasn’t told Jongseob. Because he didn’t see any point, or because he knew that Jongseob’s reaction was just going to be getting pissed at Keeho?

It’s not a pleasant thought. For a moment, Jongseob finds himself getting frustrated with Keeho all over again. Unfortunately, the emotion that follows it is disappointment in himself. I let this go on for three years. I knew how bad it was, I knew how upset it made Shota, and I still let it go on for three years.

In light of that, kidnapping Keeho almost seems like it isn’t penance enough. Like Jongseob should be doing more to make up for how bad of a friend he’s been.

But for better or worse, they’ve already picked their poison. They’re going to get Keeho to fall in love with Shota, and all of these little knots are going to work themselves out, and everyone is going to get a happy ending. Or at least, Shota’s going to get a happy ending, one he deserved to get years ago. Maybe that will absolve Jongseob of the guilt that’s bubbling away in the pit of his stomach.

From inside the cell, there’s the distinct sound of Keeho sitting back down. The little clank-thump-shift as he falls back to the mattress. “If I’d known I was going to end up down here, I would’ve spent more time with him,” the man admits, in a small voice. “I had all of these opportunities, and I guess I thought I had all the time in the world too– and now…”

“Nobody has all the time in the world, Keeho,” Jiung says frankly, leaning back in his little broken plastic chair and crossing his arms. “I mean, yeah, sure, this isn’t the way that most people get their time cut short, but it’s the principle of the thing. If you cared about him that much, you should’ve acted like it.”

Though he probably shouldn’t, Jongseob almost wants to intervene, because isn’t this going directly against Jiung’s insistence that they had to let Keeho come to these conclusions on his own? But maybe he’s giving the man more credit than he deserves, because the next words out of his mouth are a frustrated, “I did act like I cared. Don’t act like kidnapping me and sticking me down here somehow makes my- my friendship with him less valid. That’s a stupid fucking thing to believe.”

Seemingly uncaring about Keeho taking a step forward and then two steps back, Jiung shrugs. “I don’t know, man. It’s not like I’ve talked to Shota about you recently. You’re the one who brought him in the first place.”

“I just wish–” Abruptly, Keeho cuts himself off. “No, you know what, it doesn’t matter. It’s not like I can fix anything from down here anyway.”

Jiung makes a sound in the back of his throat. “Oh come on now, Keekee, don’t talk about it like that. What matters, what doesn’t matter, it’s all the same now, don’t you think?” When all he gets in return is mutinous silence, Jiung puts on a somewhat gentler expression. “I’m here for you, right now. So you can have a safe place to let all of these thoughts and emotions out. Because I care.”

“Fuck you,” Keeho snaps, his tone bitter. “You just think this is funny, don’t you? Me suffering down here- it’s just a fucking joke to you.”

“I assure you, I think nothing of the sort,” Jiung lies without missing a beat. “Come on, talk to me. If you can’t be honest here, where can you be honest?”

“I don’t want to hear it.” Keeho’s voice cracks on the words. “You’ve kept me down here for God knows how long, you’ve basically tortured me, you’ve cut me off from everyone I care about, and I just– I miss the people who gave a shit about me. Not you, and definitely not Jongseob. I miss Shota. I want him back.”

“It’s not that easy,” Jiung says lightly.

“I know, I know, I just– I don’t care.” The more he talks, the more frantic Keeho’s voice gets. “If Shota knew I was down here, he’d try to save me.”

“Are you sure about that?” Jiung asks, craning his neck forward in Keeho’s direction with an almost taunting grin.

“Yes, because I know he’s a good person.” Again, Jongseob is struck by how firmly Keeho says the words. Like he knows Shota. Like there isn’t even a doubt in his mind that he could be wrong about the man. “If he knew I was here, he would do everything he could to get me out safely because he cared about me, Jiung. And I– I care about him.”

Clicking his tongue, Jiung once again looks over at Jongseob. “Well, I’m glad to hear that you care so much Keeho. That really is touching. Just warms my heart.”

Clearly, the man looking in Jongseob’s direction is a signal. Probably, this is supposed to be his cue to step in, possibly to set Jiung free, and possibly so Keeho has a chance to say some of this stuff to his face. It’s what he should do.

But for a moment, he hesitates.

Jiung is treating this like it’s a big deal. Like they’re getting somewhere. If he steps into that cell, chances are Jiung is going to suggest they give Keeho some of his privileges back. Actual privileges. Like a blanket, or new clothes, or maybe even taking one of the locks off of his chain. Except… Jongseob isn’t sure if he thinks that’s the best choice. 

Sure, Keeho’s talking a big game. He’s saying the right things, and he sounds properly distressed about Shota, but how much does that actually mean?

Jongseob has watched this song and dance so many times before. He’s stood by while Keeho gets close to Shota, watched them talk a bunch, watched Keeho monopolize his time, act flirty with him, say how much he cares- he’s seen Keeho do all the right things. Every time, it crashes and burns. Every time, Shota gets his heart broken again, while Keeho skips off unscathed.

Why is this going to be any different, just because they’ve got Keeho locked up in the basement?

Like Jiung can see that in his face, the man narrows his eyes slightly, demanding Jongseob get over himself and just get his ass in there already. Stop fucking with the plan, those eyes say. Get your head in the game, this isn’t gonna happen overnight. We have to take what we can get.

With a sigh, Jongseob takes the last couple steps forward into Keeho’s cell.

Instantly, Keeho jerks his head up and shuffles back a bit. As if he’s half expecting Jongseob’s arrival to mean he’s done something wrong. Considering the fact that Jongseob’s generally the one to meet out any punishments, if they’re necessary, that assumption is not entirely amiss. Ignoring this, Jongseob stares directly at Jiung.

“What was all of that about something warming your heart?” he asks, deliberately acting like he didn’t hear Keeho’s entire confession. Though he might be imagining it, he thinks Keeho relaxes slightly, like he’d been worried that Jongseob had heard him.

“Oh, you know, a little of this and a little of that.” Jiung’s smile is blinding. “Wouldn’t you know, Keeho has been so well-behaved lately.”

Skeptically, Jongseob turns to look back at Keeho. Instead of any sign of agreement, all the man looks is confused at Jiung’s assessment. “I have?”

“He has?” Jongseob echoes, furrowing his brows at Jiung.

“Yes, he has,” Jiung stresses, with a face like he’s a handful of seconds away from kicking Jongseob in the shins. “I think, and I’m sure you’ll agree with me, Jongseob, that people who are well-behaved deserve rewards.”

Slowly, Jongseob’s eyebrows hike up his forehead. “Right.”

Almost at once, Jiung deflates. “Oh come on, you could at least pretend to be a little more enthusiastic about this.”

“I’ve got plenty of enthusiasm,” Jongseob mutters sullenly.

“What’s the reward?” Keeho asks, somewhat nervously, from the other side of the room. “Are you… going to let me go?”

Jongseob’s attention instantly snaps to Keeho. “No.”

“Alright alright.” Holding up his hands, Keeho looks between Jiung and Jongseob. “I was just asking. It’s not- You don’t have to get pissed off over something that small.”

“No, we’re not going to let you go,” Jiung agrees, getting to his feet. “But like I said, you’ve been behaved! And this cell of yours. It’s so uncomfortable.”

Which is kind of the point, but neither Jongseob nor Keeho voice that. Instead, Keeho stares at Jiung, and Jongseob watches Keeho. Just in case. Just on the off chance he can find a reason to disagree with Jiung’s judgment.

“I guess it’s uncomfortable,” Keeho agrees at a mumble, after the silence drags on just a little too long.

“Exactly!” Clapping his hands together, Jiung decides, “We should fix that. We should make things a little more comfortable for you.”

“Okay…?” Glancing again at Jongseob, like he’s going to find more answers there, Keeho looks back at Jiung. “How- how are we going to do that?”

“By giving you a blanket of course!” Jiung looks positively delighted by his own decision. “Since it’s so cold down here, and that sweater isn’t nearly warm enough. And I’m sure the concrete doesn’t help anything.”

Pausing, Jiung looks at Keeho with a wide smile, like he’s hoping for some sign of excitement. When he doesn’t get it, he sighs, walks around the table, and hunkers down in front of their captive.

“You want a blanket.”

He words it like a question, but it sounds like a statement.

With one last glance at Jongseob, Keeho refocuses on Jiung before clearing his throat and saying, “Yeah, I could use a blanket.”

“Wonderful!” Popping back up, Jiung about-faces and gestures for Jongseob to follow him. “Come on, let’s get Keeho a blanket. And maybe even some food!”

Narrowing his eyes at Keeho, Jongseob stares the man down until he’s physically dragged from the cell and the heavy wooden door is closed behind him.

“I told you,” Jiung hisses happily, as he re-locks Keeho’s door and does a little dance around the water heater. “I told you I told you I told you!”

Slouching his way after Jiung, Jongseob waits until they’re out of Keeho’s earshot before saying, “As long as he means it.”

“It doesn’t matter if he means it,” Jiung reminds Jongseob, with a manic grin. “He’s saying the right things, and soon he’ll be doing the right things, and before long we’ll have trained him so well that he doesn’t even realize it wasn’t exactly what he wanted in the first place.”

Watching as Jiung skips away, Jongseob looks at his feet. A step in the right direction, but is it going to last?

Ah well, he supposes they’ll burn that bridge when they get to it.

￩￮￫◉￩￮￫

Chapter Text

￩￮￫◉￩￮￫

“No no, I’m pretty sure you have to multiply the entire side of the equation by what’s in the parentheses first.” 

“No, I’m pretty sure you don’t.”

“Yes you do.” 

“But I’m only moving the six-Y.”

“You can’t just move the six-Y, it all has to move as well.”

Squinting at his paper, Jongseob finally says, “I don’t believe you.”

“Alright well–” Keeho clicks his tongue. “Which of us has passed this class and which of us hasn’t?”

“Didn’t you say you had to retake it twice?”

“Not the issue.”

Turning his head to the side, Jongseob gives Keeho a thoroughly unimpressed look.

“I don’t know why you’re glaring at me like that.” Adjusting his position where he’s sitting half-slumped over the table, Keeho lifts a hand up in surrender. “I’m on your side. Why would I lie to you?”

Slowly, Jongseob cranks up an eyebrow.

“Oh come on.” Rolling his eyes, Keeho groans and sits back on his heels. As he goes, his chain clinks along behind him. “This is in my best interest, you know? If you get bad grades, you’re going to be bitchy, and if you’re bitchy, you’re gonna take it out on me.”

Scoffing under his breath, Jongseob looks down at his worksheet full of calculus. Fuck, this isn’t even calculus, this is just some quick algebra refreshers that the teacher had insisted they do before they moved onto something more complicated. Unfortunately, it’s now been two years since Jongseob took pre-calculus, and he doesn’t remember shit. For all he knows, Keeho is right and actually trying to help. Jongseob doesn’t know enough to prove one way or another.

But… The man is definitely right about one thing. If Jongseob gets a bad grade on this, he’s going to be much quicker to blame the fact that he was down here babysitting Keeho over his own mathematical illiteracy. And yes, the consequences of that are going to be him in a bad mood. It’s just basic math.

Unlike this fucking homework.

If he’s being honest, Jongseob is getting really sick of having to look after Keeho so much. It’s been almost two months of this bullshit, and there doesn’t seem to be an end in sight. Sure, things have progressed. Keeho has a couple privileges again. He’s got a pillow to go with his blanket, they gave him a new pair of socks, and most importantly, he’s finally got access to the toilet and sink in his bathroom. Which, considering it frees Jongseob of the duty of cleaning up the man’s shit bucket, is a big deal.

But it doesn’t mean that things have actually gotten better.

Jiung, naturally, is a lot more optimistic about the whole thing. After all, Keeho’s been talking about Shota more frequently. Not as frequently as Jongseob would like, but it comes up every now and then. Tentative questions, memories of happier times, and lamentations about how he probably should have been a better person while he had a chance. A lot of it is one big guilt trip, but at least the right words are being said, Jiung insists.

But all Jongseob can focus on is the fact that Keeho talks about… everyone like that. He talks about Taeyang, and how much he misses his best friend. He talks about his younger brother Yechan, and how he wishes he’d been a better sibling– a better example. He talks about his sister, and his parents, and Intak– hell, even talks about the bartenders from his favorite clubs. Him talking about Shota isn’t that special.

Sure, he’s only getting rewarded for one of these things, but in Jongseob’s mind, a broken clock is bound to be right twice a day. If Keeho keeps dart boarding his conversation topics forever, eventually he’s going to land on the right one. So is that him learning something, or is that just luck.

“We can’t exactly tell him one way or another,” Jiung is always quick to point out. “We kinda have to just let it go and wait until he figures it out.”

“I don’t think it’s getting through to him though.“ Frustratedly fidgeting with the keys to Keeho’s locks, Jongseob bluntly says, “We’re rewarding him too much for things he isn’t actually doing right.”

“And you punish him whenever he does something wrong, whether he knows it’s wrong or not,” Jiung reassures him, with a little pat to his cheek. “C’mon Seobie, we’re doing everything we can.”

“I don’t think we are,” Jongseob fires back.

“Well, if you think he’s doing something he needs to be punished for…” Meaningfully, Jiung trails off, tilting his head expectantly.

“I don’t–” Snapping his mouth shut, Jongseob glares at the kitchen table. “I just think we’re not making as much progress as we want to be.”

He’s definitely feeling that right now, as Keeho sits on the floor by the table in his cell and looks up at Jongseob without nearly as much as deference as he would’ve preferred. There’s supposed to be some respect being built up here goddamnit, but he feels like the more privileges they give back to Keeho, the further away that potential respect gets. Okay, he’s not saying they should punish the man for no reason. That would, unfortunately, be antithetical to their goal. And at the end of the day, this isn’t really about Keeho being a better person. This is about Shota. It’s just–

God, the in between bits are getting to be infuriating.

“Fine, you don’t have to listen to me, but you should at least pay attention in class.” Tipping his head to the side, Keeho gives Jongseob a knowing look. “Unless you’re skipping entirely, in which case…”

“I am not skipping,” Jongseob tells the man, through gritted teeth. “I’m there for every class.”

“Math was never my best subject, so I can’t say much,” Keeho sympathizes, which are bold words for someone who’s been saying quite a lot.

“No, I’m fine at the subject, it’s just-” Pursing his lips, Jongseob hesitates. Actually, that one might be an inside thought.

Unfortunately, he’s already opened the bag, and Keeho is nothing if not willing to fish the cat out for him. “Oh, so it’s something else then.” Edging further into Jongseob’s personal space, the man plants his elbows on the table. “Is the class too early? Bad sleeping habits finally kicking your ass?”

Though Jongseob doesn’t answer, it must be immediately obvious on his face that Keeho’s guess is off, because the man quickly moves on. “No no, someone in your class is distracting you. Shota?”

Jongseob opens his mouth, but before he can speak, Keeho is already correcting himself. “Wait, he had a computer class on Tuesday mornings. So unless he dropped out of it, it can’t be that. He’s still taking that class, right?”

“I’m going to be honest,” Jongseob says slowly. “I have no idea what Shota’s class schedule looks like. I’ve never had a reason to ask.”

Clicking his tongue, Keeho gives a shake of his head. “I think it’s common courtesy to know your friends’ class schedules.”

“I don’t give a fuck what you think?”

That edge to Jongseob’s voice, if nothing else, seems to snap Keeho’s attention away from being a bastard. Regrettably, it puts him right back on track to question Jongseob further. “Okay, so it’s not Shota. But it’s someone in your class. So who is it? Is one of your classmates hot?”

Involuntarily, Jongseob winces.

“Oh they are.” Immediately, Keeho is in his face. “Spill the tea. Who’s the guy. Or- girl?”

Instinctively, Jongseob rolls his shoulders and leans away from Keeho. “This isn’t any of your fucking business.”

“You could make it my business,” Keeho reasons, without an ounce of hesitation. “Come on, where’s the harm. Who am I going to tell? It’s not like I can do anything one way or another from down here.”

“That isn’t exactly the most convincing argument you could make,” Jongseob informs the man, pulling a pringle out the can of them he’s got at his elbow and staring at his homework so he doesn’t have to meet Keeho’s eyes. “Just drop it.”

“You know, I’m probably the only person you interact with regularly that could actually help you.” Keeho says it nonchalantly, but there’s a certain air of truth behind the statement. “Jiung doesn’t know anything about relationships. And I can bet money on the fact that you aren’t going to go ask Shota for help either. And Taeyang… well it’s a miracle he and Intak got together at all, is all I’m saying.”

Furrowing his brows, unwilling to cave that easily, Jongseob bluntly asks, “Why should I think you’ll be able to help me. What makes you think I’d want your help in the first place?”

Making a sound in the back of his throat, Keeho rises to his feet so he can perch himself on the edge of Jongseob’s table. It’s a move that isn’t against any of the rules per ses, but it still has Jongseob just barely resisting the urge to grind his teeth. “It’s really not that serious,” the man tells him, as he crosses his legs with a loud clink of his chain. “Just tell me about this crush on a classmate you’ve got.”

Staring up at Keeho for a long moment, distantly entertaining the idea of simply getting up and walking out of the room, Jongseob finally grunts under his breath and relents, “She’s not my classmate.”

Keeho gasps. “Oh my God, you have a crush on your professor.”

“No,” Jongseob says loudly, before Keeho can invent any extra bullshit about that theory. “She’s- she’s the teacher’s aid. And you’re blowing it out of proportion. It’s not a crush, she’s just-”

“Hot,” Keeho finishes, with a self satisfied smirk. Like he knows without being told just how annoyed Jongseob is with himself for caving. “What’s her name? I know I’ve been graduated for a bit, but I might still know her. I knew a lot of people.”

In theory, Jongseob doesn’t have to keep answering Keeho’s questions. In fact, he probably shouldn’t, and doesn’t really want to. But at the same time, Keeho is at least correct about one thing. Jongseob probably isn’t going to bring this up to any of his other friends. At least, not any time soon. While in the meantime, Keeho is quite literally a captive audience. Which does make talking to him about it a little more enticing than it otherwise would be. At least, in the context of something fairly innocuous like this.

“Kelly Lin.” Reaching for another pringle, Jongseob’s eyes fix on the sturdy links of Keeho’s ankle chain.

“Oh, that’s the one that’s friends with Hyunbin, right?” When Jongseob gives Keeho a blank look, the man waves his own comment off. “I’m pretty sure she’s got friends that run in circles adjacent to mine. Probably. If you’ve got a picture of her, I can confirm.”

“No, I don’t have a picture of her,” Jongseob mutters, rolling his eyes. “I’m not in my math class taking creepy photos of someone I don’t really know.”

“Well what else are you going to do, you’re definitely not doing math,” Keeho says, with a mildly derogatory arch of his eyebrows.

Resisting the urge to do something immature like growl, or strangle Keeho with his own chain, Jongseob carefully enunciates, “See? This is why I didn’t want to tell you.”

Immediately, Keeho is letting out a disappointed sound under his breath. “Oh come on, I’m just teasing you. Is that not allowed anymore?” When Jongseob just stares at him, Keeho gives an expansive wave, like he’s physically sweeping his own commentary under the rug. “Just tell me more about Kelly. Are you falling in love with her? Or do you just want to fuck her?”

“I’m still working on holding a conversation longer than four minutes with her, actually,” Jongseob drawls, unfazed by Keeho’s crassness.

Sticking out his bottom lip, Keeho’s eyes crinkle with laughter, briefly hiding the heavy dark circles. “Aw, is someone shy?”

Jongseob doesn’t rise to it. “No, she’s a teacher’s aid who’s a good four years older than me. At least. She’s not going to just hand out her number.”

“But you’ve asked,” Keeho presses, lifting an eyebrow.

Pulling a face despite himself, Jongseob looks back down at his homework. “Not… exactly.”

Look, Jongseob isn’t, by nature, romantic. He’s had a couple girlfriends, here and there, but none of them were particularly serious. Most of his experience has been from fucking around with people for a night or two and then moving on. Which is to say he’s not a bleeding heart, not even close.

Keeho talking about this like he’s got some big crush on his calculus class’ teaching aid is ridiculous. Because he doesn’t. And even if he wanted to pursue a relationship, he hasn’t had the time for that sort of thing lately. Not since first locking someone up in Jiung’s basement.

But… okay, he has eyes. Kelly is easily one of the most gorgeous people he’s ever seen before, to the point where it’s a little unfair to everyone else. She’s got big eyes and long, glossy brown hair, and the sort of unique face you only ever come across once in a lifetime, if that. And on top of all of that, she’s really really nice, in a way that probably has a good two-thirds of Jongseob’s class enchanted, whether they want to admit it or not.

The cherry on top, if he needed anything else, is that Jongseob genuinely likes talking to Kelly. They haven’t had many conversations, all things considered, but it’s been a non-zero number. They talk at least once a week, if not more. He’s good at making Kelly laugh, which is always a bonus, and… a guy can dream, right? Even if it’s probably never going to happen, if for no other reason than Jongseob simply doesn’t have the time to go properly wooing anyone, he can dream.

But dreaming only gets him so far. As much as Jongseob hates to admit it, Keeho brings up a good point. He hasn’t asked for Kelly’s number, or made any other sort of steps to actually further a relationship between them. And while he would argue that it's not because he’s shy, he will grant that it probably makes him look like a bit of a coward.

Tapping a finger on the table, drawing Jongseob’s attention once more, Keeho tilts his head to the side. “I can see you’ve got an excuse. Go on, what is it?”

Coughing, Jongseob looks away. “Look-”

“I’m looking.”

Jongseob grimaces, but he still tries to keep his tone even. “It’s a weird position to be in, okay? I’m going to be in this class for the rest of the semester. Yeah, she’s hot, but I really don’t want to make things awkward. For her or for me.”

“So it’s the age thing,” Keeho guesses, leaning forward until he’s almost looming over Jongseob. “I mean, I’ve seen worse. Way worse.”

“It’s not the age thing,” Jongseob groans. “It’s… everything else.”

Opening his mouth, nodding big and slow like he’s had some sort of revelation, Keeho hums, “I see, so it’s the power dynamic.”

Though any number of agitated responses cycle through Jongseob’s head, he doesn’t voice them. Instead, he just glares, thoroughly unimpressed, at Keeho.

“Which is not me throwing shade,” Keeho hurries to insist, waving a hand in Jongseob’s direction, almost knocking the pringles can off the table in the process. “I’m not- Okay, I’m judging you a little bit, but as a friend. I promise it’s friendly judging.”

“Can we just go back to you pretending to know things about math?” Jongseob deadpans, even though at this point he’s completely lost track of anything to do with his homework or calculus in general. 

“No, no. I want to help! Really, I do,” Keeho insists, with an expression on his face that might be genuine, and also might not be. “It’s so cute that you’ve got a crush.”

“I’ve already told you, it’s not-”

“And I think you’re going to be in a way better mood if you’re consistently getting laid,” Keeho hurries to add, with a pointed look down at his nails. “Which, seeing as I’m stuck down here at your mercy, is kind of in my best interest. Don’t you think?”

At this point, Jongseob isn’t even sure what’s in Keeho’s best interest or not. This conversation is shaping up to be another one of those times where he feels like, despite Keeho being the one kidnapped and chained to the wall, he’s still holding all the cards. It’s stupid, because Jongseob knows it’s not about that. He’s been repeatedly reminding himself that it’s not about that. Nevertheless, it still gets under his skin.

Just the other day, he’d had a conversation with Jiung about it. The sentiment had accidentally slipped out of his mouth, and Jiung had practically climbed his way over every piece of furniture he owned so he could get close to Jongseob, lean in until they were nose to nose, and say, “Man, you’ve got to take your ego out of this.”

To which Jongseob had of course responded, “I know, you don’t have to tell me that.”

But Jiung had just shaken his head, like he could somehow see through to Jongseob’s soul through his eyes. “No, it’s not enough to know it. You have to believe it. You have to feel it. If you get all wrapped up in this and start treating it like some kind of opportunity to get one over on Keeho, it’s all going to be for nothing.”

“Alright, and I haven’t been,” Jongseob had insisted, matching the force in Jiung’s tone. “He’s just… An asshole who gets on my nerves sometimes.” 

“I know that, but you need to rise above it.” Wiggling his hands around his and Jongseob’s faces, Jiung had firmly continued, “Keeho’s rebelling and trying to act like normal because it’s all he has left. But it doesn’t mean anything. Him pretending to be in control of the situation is just that: Pretend. It’s all in your head. It’s a psy-op. Don’t let it work.”

“I don’t think Keeho is capable of running a psy-op,” Jongseob had attempted to argue, only for Jiung to grab his face, forcing them to once again lock eyes.

“Focus,” he’d repeated, with those wide, wild eyes. “That’s how we win. That’s how we get Shota the boyfriend of his dreams.”

For the most part, Jiung is talking nonsense. Keeho isn’t doing any of this with that much intention. At moments like this, however, Jongseob can see at least some truth to the man’s words. Yes, Keeho is being a little bit of a bastard. Yes, it annoys the fuck out of him. But at the end of the day, Jongseob can just walk out of the room. And that solution notwithstanding, he’s been dealing with Keeho being annoying for literal years. Presuming this doesn’t end with them killing the man, he’s going to be dealing with these irritations for years to come.

Huffing out a breath, attempting to push all of his irritation and desire to leave out through his nose, Jongseob leans back and looks up at Keeho. “Alright, fine. Since you know so much better, what should I do.”

Immediately, Keeho winces. “Okay, you’re not going to like this, but-”

“I swear to god, if you just tell me to ask her for her number anyways, I’m going to hit you,” Jongseob interrupts flatly, before Keeho can say it.

Stopping again, at least briefly considering the idea that Jongseob’s threat of violence is serious, Keeho sticks out his bottom lip. “How about story time instead.”

“You’re joking,” Jongseob mutters, giving Keeho an incredulous stare. 

“No, I’m not.” Uncrossing and crossing his legs once more, an imperious look on his face, Keeho sniffs, “I’m older than you. I have more life experience than you. I know things because I’ve seen and done things. So maybe you should listen to me and you’ll actually learn something. For once.”

He drops his gaze meaningfully towards Jongseob’s math homework before flicking his eyes back up to Jongseob’s face. Grabbing for his can of pringles, because that feels like the least violent option he has open to him, Jongseob spends a second stuffing a few into his mouth before quietly saying, “Fine. Story time.”

“You know, I’ve actually been in the exact same situation as you’re currently in before.” Keeho’s smile is small and victorious. “And I succeeded, so I think I’m qualified to give advice.”

Wrinkling his nose, Jongseob lifts an eyebrow. “So you were also going around hitting on your teachers’ aids?”

“Well, no. I never did get any cute ones. Or at least, no cute ones that were my type.” Sparing a second to look mildly offended about this fact, Keeho quickly moves on. “Actually, it was at my last job. Not the job I probably just lost. The one before that.”

Unsure where this is going, and equally unsure if he’s invested or not, Jongseob gives a jerk of his head for Keeho to continue. Obligingly, the man keeps talking.

“He was my boss, you know,” Keeho reveals, with a self-satisfied smirk. “Okay, well, he wasn’t exactly my boss. He was a supervisor, but he wasn’t my supervisor. But he worked with my boss! You see the similarities.” 

Squinting at Keeho for a silent seven seconds, Jongseob gives a slow nod. “Uh-huh.”

“Look, I realize he was the same age as me, so it wasn’t quite the same, but there were for sure rules against doing what we were doing, so we can pretend that puts it on the same level. And before you ask, yes, he was incredibly my type.” Smiling at the memory, Keeho leans back slightly, his eyes drifting to the ceiling. “His name was Kamden. Is Kamden. He’s still alive, we just broke up.”

“So what you’re telling me is you went for it despite everything and it worked so therefore I should go for it too,” Jongseob extrapolates, as something in his gut tells him he probably wants to cut Keeho off now before the man’s story goes any further. If only because him thinking pleasant things about a previous relationship isn’t really what Jongseob and Jiung are going for here.

“No, it was way more complicated than that.” Waving his hands expansively, Keeho delightedly chatters, “You know, when I first asked him, he said no? I didn’t like- go right out and ask him if we could hook up, I was just asking if he wanted to go get drinks, but he was nervous about breaking rules. And he didn’t want me to feel like I was being pressured into anything, which was just so cute. Because obviously he wasn’t doing the pressuring. But I went ‘okay, I can work with that’. And I did.”

“That sounds like harassment,” Jongseob drawls, staring unimpressed at the other man. “I really don’t want to harass Kelly.”

“No it wasn’t- You’re deliberately misinterpreting me.” Dismissing Jongseob’s accusations with a flick of his fingers, Keeho looks down at him. “It’s about putting yourself out there. You’re in a weird situation, so you can’t just be entirely straightforward from the start. Instead, you’ve got to be persistent. Like so persistent. And you can’t friend-zone yourself, because that’ll ruin the whole thing.”

“I don’t see how-”

“Oh my god, just- All I had to do with Kamden was be available. And, you know, kind of flirty. You’ve got to get at least a little flirty. If she doesn’t know you’re interested, then she’s never even going to consider it. And you have to mean it, otherwise she’ll think you’re just doing it to get test answers out of her or something.” Pointing at Jongseob, Keeho gives him a faux-stern look. “Here you are saying you don’t even talk to her that often, and you haven’t asked for her number, and you’re worried she’s going to think you’re weird- Thinking like that isn’t going to get you anywhere. You have to talk to her. All the time. If you don’t want to ask for her number, ask for her Instagram. Try to engage with the things she likes that are outside of school. Don’t let the fact that you’re just another student constrain you.”

Sighing, Jongseob tries his best to take Keeho’s advice seriously. It isn’t… the worst. Granted, it’s nothing he couldn’t have figured out for himself, but hearing it come from someone else’s mouth does make it easier to register as ‘the correct thing to do’. He abhors the idea of giving Keeho credit for anything, but… He doesn’t exactly have to tell the man anything more about it, now does he? Technically, it’s none of his business.

“All I’m saying is; it worked for me with Kamden. Like yeah, it took a couple months, and we only lasted for a year, but it was still a lot of fun.” Giving an easy shrug, Keeho continues, “And you said it yourself, it’s not like you’re deeply in love with Kelly yet. You just think she’s hot. Might as well see where it goes, right?”

“Yeah, might as well,” Jongseob mutters noncommittally, unwilling to let Keeho have the satisfaction of knowing he’s actually been paid attention to.

For better or for worse, however, Keeho’s thoughts have already wandered. Reaching blindly for Jongseob’s pringles can and stealing a few, the man hums, “You know, I kind of miss Kamden.”

“I don’t care,” Jongseob grumbles, already doing his best to refocus his attention on his math homework. It’s a lost cause, but it’s better than listening to whatever drivel is about to come out of Keeho’s mouth.

“He was surprisingly sweet,” Keeho comments, like he didn’t even register Jongseob spoke. “You wouldn’t have expected it, he came off as a bit of a fuckboi, but he was really genuine underneath all of it. I mean, it was never going to work, we wanted different things in life, but it almost could have worked. You know?”

“You were both young,” Jongseob mutters, only half-paying attention to the words coming out of his own mouth. “Relationships like that kind of always fall apart.”

Keeho snorts. “I mean, young is relative. Like I guess I’m still considered young, but I’m twenty-eight. Does that even count anymore?”

As Keeho’s words process, Jongseob freezes. “How old were you when you two dated?”

“Twenty-seven.” Clicking his tongue, Keeho waves a hand. “Well, actually I was twenty six when we got together. But that’s only a year’s difference. It doesn’t count. My birthday happened while we were still together.”

Mind you, Jongseob has been doing his best this entire conversation to be chill. Keeho might be mildly pissing him off, simply by existing too loudly, but it could be worse. It has been worse. At least he isn’t screaming, or crying, or anything in between. At least all he’s doing now is being himself.

But see, before, the two of them had been talking about Jongseob’s business. Something that had nothing to do with the whole Keeho-becoming-Shota’s-boyfriend plan. Nothing the man was going to say during their conversation was going to win or lose him any points. Not in any way that mattered. 

Except then they’d started talking about one of Keeho’s exes. Even then, Jongseob had been trying to be reasonable. Keeho has no doubt had plenty of boyfriends before Shota ever entered the picture. And considering Shota was still underage for at least a year of the time they’d known each other, Jongseob can’t even be particularly mad about Keeho dating around then. He’s aware giving this man the benefit of the doubt isn’t in his nature, but he’s got Jiung’s voice in the back of his head. He’s been trying to get better.

This though. This is setting off all of his alarm bells.

“Out of curiosity- when were the two of you two dating?” Jongseob asks carefully, in as pleasant a tone as he can manage. Even though he already knows the answer.

“Last year,” Keeho answers easily, before equivocating with himself. “Well, early last year. Technically. Mostly the year before that. I think we got together sometime in March?”

“Why… Did I never meet him?”

Scoffing loudly, Keeho rolls his eyes expansively. “I know we- We were friends, but I don’t introduce you to everyone I know.” Chuckling, the man reaches over, almost pats Jongseob’s arm, thinks better of it, and settles for patting the table instead. “Don’t even try to pretend like you were going to care about who I was dating. Be serious.”

Alright, for the most part, Keeho’s got a point. But Jongseob is still seeing red. To the point where he thinks that growing rage has condensed down into a block of ice in his chest. “Yeah, but… Jiung never mentioned him to me. Neither did Intak.”

Finally, Keeho has the sense to look just a little nervous. Or if not nervous, then at the very least defensive. “I told Taeyang. Taeyang met Kamden plenty of times.”

“But why didn’t the rest of us know?” Jongseob presses, looking blank-faced up at Keeho.

“Ah- I was keeping it quiet,” Keeho admits, with a tittering laugh. “It was a new relationship, you know? And I was pretty sure it wasn’t going to last, so making a big deal out of it- It didn’t seem worth the trouble, right?”

“How long were you together?” Jongseob asks, his fingers tightening on the edge of the table as he does.

“Oh come on, it was just supposed to be an example to help you with your girl problems,” Keeho huffs, deflecting Jongseob’s question with some annoyance of his own. “You’re looking way too deeply into this. We’ve broken up. It literally doesn’t-”

“How long were you together.”

“Oh my God, like nine months, calm down.” Lifting his hands up in surrender, Keeho tries once again for an unbothered look. “From like March to January. Not that long at all.”

But Jongseob isn’t really hearing his answer, because all he’s doing is replaying every single time he watched Keeho laugh and flirt and make eyes at Shota within that period of time. He remembers every date; every time that Shota didn’t come home until one or two in the morning. He remembers every cute boyfriend photo Shota excitedly showed him, despite Jongseob not really wanting to see any of them. He remembers every time Keeho let Shota openly kiss him on the cheek, or sit tangled together on the couch. And above all, he remembers how Keeho never once told Shota no. Despite apparently being in a committed relationship at the time.

Shota never once mentioned Kamden. If he’d known, he would’ve said something. But Keeho hadn’t even done him the courtesy of being honest and admitting he was taken. No, instead he’d kept leading Shota on, just like always. Because that’s all he’s ever been fucking good for.

Slowly, Jongseob rises to his feet.

“Oh god, you can’t seriously be so annoyed about me talking about my ex that you’re going to leave,” Keeho groans, though he does still scramble off the table and put a little bit of distance between himself and Jongseob. On instinct if nothing else. “That’s so immature.”

Jongseob isn’t listening. The only thing in his head right now is Shota’s smiling face, and all the times Keeho has been responsible for ruining that. He knows to a certain degree being pissed off right now is pointless. All of this has already happened. Like Keeho said, he and this other dude have long since broken up. There’s nothing the Jongseob of now can do to spare the feelings of the Shota from, at this point, over a year ago.

Honestly though, he doesn’t give a shit. Fuck literally everything Jiung has been saying. In this moment, he has an opportunity to take vengeance for some of the bullshit that Keeho has inflicted on Shota in the past few years. And by god, he’s going to take that chance.

When Jongseob starts to advance on him, Keeho visibly jerks back, holding his hands up higher as he quickly tries to reason his way out of this. “Okay, hey. Sorry. I didn’t mean to call you immature. Or… or annoy you? I won’t bring Kamden up again. I won’t even talk about myself! Because I know it annoys you so much. Just please don’t hit me, alright? It’s bad enough being down here already without also having a black eye.”

Ignoring the man’s words, Jongseob continues to stride towards Keeho, hand going for the spare padlock he keeps in his pocket as he does so.

“Was this about Kelly?” Keeho asks desperately, trying for a laugh only for it to miserably fail. “I was just trying to help. I want you to be happy. Getting upset with me for something like that is- It’s not fair.” 

Swiftly, Jongseob sidesteps Keeho and stoops for the man’s chain. It’s cold between his fingers. Heavy. Weightier than Keeho is at this point, considering how much weight he’s lost. Clenching his hand around it Jongseob grits his teeth for only half a second before pulling it sharply, yanking Keeho off his feet. Then, in the same motion, he starts pulling the man towards the opposite wall.

Hitting the ground hard, with an audible thunk, Keeho immediately realizes what Jongseob is about to do, and whatever calm he still had in his voice evaporates. “No, wait, please- Please don’t. It’s not-” Scrabbling frantically at the floor, trying and failing to keep Jongseob from dragging him across it, Keeho frantically says, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, okay? I didn’t mean to make you upset. I won’t make you upset again. Just please don’t do this.”

With one final tug that almost has Keeho face-planting again, Jongseob flips the padlock open with his thumb, loops it between two worn links of the chain, and latches it shut. The click is deafening, despite all the noise Keeho is currently making. 

“You- You- you can’t.” Struggling to sit up again, Keeho tugs at his ankle once before staring up at Jongseob in horror. “I thought things were getting better! I thought you were actually being nice to me.”

As with everything else that’s left Keeho’s mouth in the past two minutes, Jongseob doesn’t reply. He just gets back to his feet and walks over to the man’s mattress. Too furious to do anything else.

At once, Keeho starts begging again, half crawling his way over to Jongseob as he does. “No, just- Just tell me what I did wrong, okay? I won’t do it again. I can learn. I won’t bring up Kelly, or anything else to do with your love life, or- I won’t make fun of you! I wasn’t even trying to make fun of you. Just please don’t take my pillow. Please please don’t-”

With very little ceremony, Jongseob strips the blanket and pillow away, effortlessly bundling them up in his arms and outside of Keeho’s clawing hands. When the man makes a swipe at the blanket that comes a little too close to succeeding, Jongseob instinctively kicks him away. It’s not hard enough to do any kind of satisfying damage, but Keeho still goes tumbling back, an involuntary sound of pain leaving his mouth as he does.

Still, the man keeps trying to bargain with him, like he literally can’t conceive of anything else to do. “I’m sorry for making you upset. I’m sorry- I’m sorry for talking about things I wasn’t supposed to. You’ve already got me down here. You’re already going to probably kill me or something. Don’t- Don’t take away the few things I do have. Please. I- I’m still a fucking human being. What the fuck did I do that was so wrong that you can’t treat me like one.”

Stiffly, Jongseob walks over to the table in the corner, collects his homework and his unfinished can of pringles, and steps towards the door. He thinks he can hear the tears building in Keeho’s voice at this point, but he doesn’t give a shit. All he wants is, for just a second, this man to suffer like he had Shota suffering. To pay for every single fucking year Keeho has been callously stringing Jongseob’s best friend along.

“Please don’t leave,” Keeho warbles, his voice pathetically small at this point. “We can talk this out. I know we can talk this out. I promise it doesn’t have to be like this. I know you’re not actually a monster, you just want me to think you’re a monster. That’s all you and Jiung are doing. You’re just trying to make me think you’re both monsters.”

“That’s not why we’re doing this,” Jongseob says shortly, pausing in the door frame as he does.

“So- so you’re upset over what I said about your relationship?” Keeho presses, like for just a second he thinks he’s actually gaining some ground. “Did I say something wrong about Kelly? Was I supposed to let you figure it out on your own?”

“What wasn’t what you did wrong.”

“Then what-”

Without letting Keeho finish, Jongseob grabs for the shit bucket that’s still sitting around the edge of the door and tosses it haphazardly behind him. Uninterested in whatever further bargaining Keeho is attempting, he steps out of the man’s cell and firmly shuts the door behind him. The latch is entirely unnecessary, but he pointedly closes it anyway, letting the loud clank of it cut through whatever Keeho is still trying to say.

Though he doesn’t need to, for good measure, Jongseob reaches for the light switch of Keeho’s room and flicks it off.

Almost immediately, silence descends over the basement. And in its place, he hears Keeho give a small, choked cough, before fully breaking down into stifled tears. Face contorting, Jongseob just tosses Keeho’s blanket and pillow to the floor before making his way past the water heater and up out of the basement.

Theoretically, this should be making him feel better. Theoretically, he’s shown Keeho who’s in control of the situation. Theoretically, this is retribution for Shota. Yet despite it all, Jongseob’s chest is still cold with anger, and the injustice of it all hasn’t gotten any better.

Short of killing Keeho, there’s nothing else Jongseob can do about it now.

Maybe I’ll convince Jiung to skip his dinner too…

￩￮￫◉￩￮￫

Chapter Text

￩￮￫◉￩￮￫

“Man, I feel like you’re always here.”

“And whose fault is that?”

Looking up from his phone at Jiung, who’s got a book open in one hand and a dry-erase marker in the other, Jongseob lifts an eyebrow. Immediately, Jiung holds his hands up in surrender, like there isn’t a half smile already crooking at the corners of his mouth. “Which is not an accusation, just an observation!”

“It’s a dumbfuck observation,” Jongseob drawls flatly, as he slowly looks back down at his phone screen. The mobile game he’d been playing displays a bright, mocking ‘game over’ screen. Huffing under his breath, he pushes restart. “If I wasn’t here all the time, you’d have been complaining about that too.”

“Who said I was complaining, maybe I like the company,” Jiung immediately defends, waving his marker in a wide arc over his head. There are already several suspicious blue stains on his palms. “You bring such life and energy into this space.”

Slowly, Jongseob looks back up at Jiung. Pulling both hands to his chest, Jiung grimaces before amending, under his breath, “Well you bring something to the space. Definitely couldn’t get it anywhere else.”

“Sorry for not being happy enough?” Jongseob asks slowly, uncertain at this point as to what Jiung’s getting at.

“No, it’s not that,” Jiung titters, dismissing Jongseob’s half-hearted apology. “I guess I was just- When was the last time we did anything? Other than this.”

Thoughtlessly, Jongseob starts to try to answer the question, before his response morphs into something a little too depressing to actually voice aloud. Silently, he snaps his mouth shut again.

“We should do a game night,” Jiung suggests, spreading his fingers and nearly dropping his book. Fixing his eyes on a point somewhere over Jongseob’s shoulder, he squints. “We can invite Shota, Taeyang, Intak… Do we know any other people?”

“Do you really want to invite them all over here with Keeho in the basement?” Jongseob asks, perhaps a little bit more bluntly than he originally intended.

Immediately, Jiung waves his question off. “Oh, I’m not worried about a little thing like that. He’s downstairs! They probably won’t be able to hear him.” Eyes brightening, as an idea visibly occurs to him, the man adds, “And he has been screaming less, so there is that.”

It occurs to Jongseob, as he sits there staring at his friend, that maybe Jiung is going a bit stir crazy. After all, they’ve been at this for months now. Months of having even their most basic freedoms limited, forever under the invisible hand of the person they’re keeping alive in their basement. While Jongseob has also been suffering under the same burden, he knows Jiung is footing a majority of the bill. Monetarily, obviously, but also mentally.

The consequences of that have been showing over the past couple weeks especially. With Keeho more or less returned back to square one, after Jongseob revoked what few privileges he had, things have been tense. They’re back to round the clock care. They have to worry about things like cleaning up after Keeho again, where they hadn’t when he’d had access to the bathroom. Jiung’s insisted they stay hypervigilant while things are so delicate, to make sure the man doesn’t try and do anything drastic. Inevitably, it’s all been adding up. As demands on their time, as well as on their psyche.

In his mind, Jongseob thinks he’s been handling the situation about as well as one can. He can definitely see the toll it’s taken on him; can feel the effects of having his social life reduced to nothing, as well as the unintended side-effects of this incredibly antisocial behavior. But he likes to think he’s making it through. He still spends time with Shota, sometimes. He’s keeping up in most of his classes. He gets outside, when Jiung isn’t sending him mournful requests to come help take care of Keeho.

On the other hand, Jiung has no such reprieve. After all, it’s his house. Even when he can find the time to relax, Keeho is still there. That can’t be doing anything good for him mentally. And Jiung gets squirrely when he leaves Keeho home alone for too long, so simply telling him to get out more often isn’t the answer. The end result is what Jongseob’s looking at right now. 

Jiung is physically fine, and maybe even emotionally fine at a surface level, but deeper down, the cracks are beginning to show.

Which, when looked at from an outside perspective, probably doesn’t garner much sympathy. But Jongseob isn’t trying to convince someone else that Jiung is at his wits' end. He’s simply observing, and letting said observations wander around in the privacy of his own mind.

“Just because he’s not screaming anymore-” Jongseob begins, only for Jiung to immediately wave away whatever he was about to say, with a faintly manic light in his eyes. 

“No, I know. You’re scared it’s going to turn into a bad rendition of the telltale heart. And while I am wayyy more mentally sound than that guy was, I wouldn’t want to worry you. I’m just brainstorming! I’m sure we can work something out.” Eyebrows popping up, Jiung sticks his dry-erase marker into the air. “Taeyang can host.”

“He hates hosting anything,” Jongseob reminds Jiung, tipping his head to the side. “Believe me, I’ve heard Keeho complain about it for… forever.”

“Ah, but surely he’d make an exception for little old me,” Jiung says, taking a couple steps forward so he can drape himself over the loveseat. “Or he can make an exception for you? Doesn’t he really like you or whatever?”

“I mean- Maybe?” Shaking his head, Jongseob admits, “We haven’t really talked in a while. Not since-”

“Man, it’s like everyone’s forgotten how to be social. Keeho wasn’t the only one with the ability to plan things, you know?” It’s unclear if Jiung is talking to Jongseob or not. The comments feel far more like they’re been thrown out haphazardly into the void for whoever wants them. As such, Jongseob doesn’t respond. Instead, he makes a soft suggestion of his own.

“I could always invite Shota over.” Even as he says it, he turns his phone game off and starts tapping his way towards the man’s contact details. “If we’re bored, I’m sure he’s– Well, not bored, but he’ll probably be down to hang out.”

“Yeah, but then I have to think about what to feed both of you,” Jiung whines, setting his book down on the floor so he can roll around on the loveseat more effectively.

“Weren’t you just complaining about there not being enough people here?” Jongseob asks incredulously, dropping his phone for long enough to stare at Jiung like the man is crazy. Which, again, at this point, he definitely is.

“That was a point you may have assumed I made,” Jiung agrees vaguely, loosely circling a hand above his head. “My actual comment was that you’re here too much. Keep up.”

“You already said that wasn’t a complaint,” Jongseob groans.

“Yes, which is why I called it a comment. Keep up.” Falling silent, as whatever animating spirit that’s been filling him abruptly drains away, Jiung’s hands drop back to his sides, and his smile gradually drops off his face. In the wake of their meaningless conversation, the house is uncomfortably still. Though they’ve never really been able to hear Keeho from up here, not in any way that meant anything, at times like this, Jongseob thinks it’s almost too easy to conjure up the man in his mind’s eye. His voice, his mannerisms, the little interjections he’d be making into what they’re talking about. It’s so clear, sometimes he forgets he’s imagining it.

That probably doesn’t say anything good about my state of mind. As with so many other things, Jongseob continues to ignore it.

“You’re right, I should call Shota,” Jiung muses, the words just loud enough that they’re equally as likely to have been an inside thought as something he wants Jongseob to hear. “I miss him.”

“I’m pretty sure you see him about as much as you used to,” Jongseob points out, with a little jerk of his shoulders. “He still comes over like every week.”

“Yeah, I know, but it’s not the same,” Jiung says wistfully, pressing a hand against his forehead. “You know what I mean? There’s something different about it now.”

“No, I can’t say that I do know what you mean,” Jongseob says slowly, torn between redirecting Jiung and letting him babble.

The choice is taken out of his hands, however, when Jiung continues to talk, hardly even waiting for Jongseob to finish his own sentence. “Ever since we took Keeho, it’s like… Something’s changed. Shota acts different now. It’s tragic, when you think about it.”

Jongseob blinks. “I promise you, he’s acting exactly the same as always.”

“But he’s lost Keeho.” Jiung’s eyes grow distant, almost longing. “That has to have done something to him.”

“I mean, he mentioned it once or twice, but…” Jongseob shakes his head. “I don’t know, he’s basically just being himself.”

Actually, that’s something that’s been weighing on Jongseob’s mind, whether he wants to admit it or not. At first, he probably would’ve agreed with Jiung. Keeho vanished, ergo Shota got sad. It all made sense. But then… Shota had gotten over Keeho. Like really really quickly. To the point where unless Jongseob brings the man up, it’d be easy to assume that Shota’s forgotten about Keeho entirely.

Which is understandably weird coming from someone who was borderline unhealthily obsessed with Keeho before his disappearance. But then, maybe Shota is better at handling grief than Jongseob gave him credit for. Maybe in whatever ways he needed to, the man has already processed his emotions and simply moved on.

It doesn’t bode well for their whole making-Keeho-into-Shota’s-perfect-brainwashed-boyfriend plan, but on the flipside, it means Jiung’s concerns about Shota being traumatized over the whole thing are probably unfounded. 

Perhaps Jiung can read that off Jongseob’s face, because almost immediately, he drops the melodrama. “Well, hopefully it won’t be long until they can reunite.”

Jongseob doesn’t grimace, but it’s a close thing. While he’s aware that future is one they’re aiming for, he can’t say he’s particularly excited about it. And not because he’s not looking forward to Shota being obsessed with Keeho again. Though that might be part of it. But more pressingly–

“I hope it goes well,” he mutters, not quite meeting Jiung’s eyes.

Immediately, Jiung makes a loud, unconcerned sound. “Of course it’ll be fine.” Sitting up on the couch, the man draws some elaborate picture in the air with his hands that Jongseob can’t decipher. “Shota is in love, right? He’ll just be delighted to see Keeho again. He won’t be thinking about anything else.”

“Maybe.” 

And alright, Shota probably will be happy. But he’s probably also going to have a lot of other emotions, and those will be directed at Jongseob and Jiung. As he probably should’ve expected, Jiung doesn’t seem worried. But Jongseob? He’s less certain.

It’s not even that he’s one-hundred percent certain that Shota is going to hate him. Yes, it’s a possibility, but it’s only a possibility. There are so many other potential reactions the man might have that Jongseob genuinely can’t even begin to list them all. He hates that. He hates not knowing. He hates not being able to plan for any eventuality, instead of simply psyching himself up for one, anticipated bad outcome.

“You’re overthinking this,” Jiung suggests lightly, getting back to his feet so he can wander over in Jongseob’s direction. “Shota is- You know him! He’s not the sort of guy to get all hung up on the legal semantics of everything. The chances of him going to the police are like next to nothing.”

“Yeah, I know that,” Jongseob mutters, glancing up at the other man briefly before looking back down at his knees. “I’m not scared about him running to the cops.”

“I swear, if you’re worried that he’s never going to speak to you again-” Jiung starts, with a truly impressive amount of disbelief immediately filling his tone.

“I’m not worried. Stop saying I’m worried.” Obviously, he is worried, but Jongseob doesn’t need Jiung to beat him over the head with it. “I’m just trying to think through the eventualities. We didn’t really talk many of them through in the moment.”

Expansively, Jiung sweeps Jongseob’s words away. “Because we didn’t need to! How Shota reacts to this is like eighth or ninth on the list of important things to worry about. I was covering our more important bases, like possible problems one through five on that list. Maybe even one through six.”

“Okay, and we’ve figured out concerns one through six,” Jongseob presses, his eyebrows knitting together. “We have him in our basement. We got away with it. We know what to do with him if we need to get rid of him. I think it’s about time we-”

“Getting anxious about Shota now isn’t going to change anything,” Jiung interrupts, leaning down so he can place his hands firmly on Jongseob’s shoulders. “It’s going to stress you out. And there’s no point in getting stressed out, because–”

There’s a knock at the door.

Immediately falling silent, Jiung looks in the direction of the sound, before looking down at Jongseob. Slowly, he lifts an eyebrow. Without being told, Jongseob knows the man is asking if he’s invited someone over. Just as easily, Jongseob returns a pinched expression which clearly says, why are you asking me that, this is your house.

“Well, I’m not expecting anyone,” Jiung says under his breath, taking a step back.

Jongseob is about to suggest they just ignore it when there comes another knock, this one quickly followed by the doorbell ringing, and several inventive curses from a voice the two of them instantly recognize. Which immediately decides the matter for them both.

Jumping up off the couch, Jongseob weaves his way around Jiung. Two strides later, he’s throwing the deadbolt, and pulling open the door to reveal exactly who he expected to find. And yet at the same time, the last person he would have anticipated showing up completely unannounced.

The first thing Jongseob notes is that Taeyang looks horrible. His hair is thrown up into a sloppy, snarled ponytail. His clothes are covered in dust, dirt, and several other stains Jongseob isn’t sure he wants names for. There are dark circles under his eyes, and several smudges on his face. Despite the decent weather outside, he looks like he’s been dragged through hell.

Despite standing practically nose to nose with him, Taeyang isn’t meeting his eyes. Almost like the act of doing so requires too much effort. Effort he simply can’t summon up.

“Taeyang,” Jiung chirps into the second of silence. “Fancy seeing you here.”

“Am I allowed inside?” Taeyang asks, with a note of his usual wry humor that falls completely flat. “Or do I just have to stand here on the porch?”

“Of course you can come in,” Jongseob says, stepping out of Taeyang’s way and ushering him inside before Jiung manages to say something stupid. 

“Thanks.” Briefly, Taeyang’s gaze clears, and he focuses on Jongseob’s face. For a moment, it’s like he’s not quite registering who he’s looking at, or why he’s even there. But then an additional light comes on behind his eyes, and he adds a quiet, “Hey Jongseob.”

“Hey,” he answers, at a similar volume. “What- what’s up?”

“Yeah, it’s not like you to just show up,” Jiung agrees. It’s clear that he’s picked up on Taeyang’s general state of disarray and the tired look on his face. It’s equally clear he’s not sure if he should come right out and ask about it. “Did I miss a text, or…”

“I just finished helping Keeho’s brother clean the house out.”

Taeyang says it so quickly the words practically run together. In their wake, a heavy silence claims the room. One Jongseob has no idea what to do with, and isn’t sure how to clear. Judging by the way the smile on Jiung’s face instantly freezes, he’s equally at a loss.

“Oh,” the man mutters at last, animating slightly. “I didn’t realize that was today.”

“It’s fine, it’s not like I asked for help,” Taeyang mumbles, stepping around the edge of the couch so he can sink into the spot Jongseob just vacated. “Or told you. Or Intak.”

“Good,” Jiung blurts out. “I mean– not good. Awful. But I’m glad I didn’t miss– Sorry, I didn’t realize the place needed cleaning.”

“No one’s been keeping up with it for a bit,” Taeyang comments hollowly, lifting his head in Jiung’s direction. “I know you forget that places get dirty even if they’re not being lived in, but I’m well aware. Trust me.”

Usually, Jiung would have instantly risen to the jab about the cleanliness of his own home. Right now, he just sits back down on the loveseat and folds his hands together in his lap. “If I had known it was something that needed done, I would’ve come and helped. Jongseob probably would have too. You only have to ask.”

“I’m not going to ask Jongseob to come and help clean Keeho’s house out,” Taeyang tells Jiung, coughing on a small laugh. “No offense, Jongseob, but I know you and him weren’t close.”

“Yeah, but for you,” Jiung reasons.

Quietly walking around the edge of the couch, Jongseob carefully sits down next to Taeyang and gives a minute bob of his head. “Anything for you.”

“Thanks, but–” Shaking his head, Taeyang lets out a long, slow breath. “I didn’t think it was going to be that big a project. I figured… figured it’d be easiest if I just handled it with Yechan instead of dragging a bunch of other people into it.”

It’s been a long time since Jongseob has seen Taeyang. Distantly, he wonders if that’s why the change in the man’s demeanor is hitting so hard. Mind you, Taeyang has never been a particularly effervescent person. He smiles, but most of the time it doesn’t reach his eyes. He laughs, but the laughter is often sarcastic and for the purpose of mocking someone. He clearly enjoys his friends and has things to make him happy, but it doesn’t always show in his demeanor. Actually, if Jongseob didn’t know better, he would say that happiness wasn’t there at all. But he does know better.

Which is why lack of it is particularly noticeable.

Taeyang seems tired. More tired than usual. Ignoring how immediately disheveled he looks, the man’s clothes are hanging off of him. His skin seems more sallow than normal. He looks sad. Not just in his usual ‘I might be clinically depressed but I haven’t been medicated for it’ kind of way. No, Taeyang looks distressed in a far more immediate, tangible sense.

Considering what they’re talking about, it’s not difficult to figure out why. But still, it’s jarring to see.

Jongseob never realized it would be this jarring.

“Alright, well, it doesn’t look like it was easy,” Jiung mutters, as his mouth twitches down at the corners. “Do you need me to get you anything? Like a drink or something to eat or–”

“No, no it’s fine.” Waving off Jiung’s offer, Taeyang freezes up for several seconds before clearing his throat and mumbling, “I just needed someplace to sit.”

“I’m pretty sure you have a home,” Jiung jokes weekly, before hurrying to add, “Not that I mind having you here. You’ve lived here almost as long as I have, my door is always open.”

“Except when you ignore me knocking,” Taeyang says, mouth twisting.

“Except then,” Jiung agrees, his smile just a little off. “I’m sure Intak will want you home at some point. He gets sad if he’s alone too long. But like I said, you’re welcome to stay here as long as–”

“Did you know the whole place smelled like dog shit?” Taeyang’s comment is so far out of left field that it cuts Jiung’s rambling off the roots. His smile doesn’t even disappear. It just hangs there, awkwardly. A vestigial reaction.

“Well… Keeho did have a dog,” Jongseob recalls, into the silence.

“Yeah, and no one knew that she needed somebody to take care of her right after he– He vanished.” Running a hand through his hair, pulling some of it out of his ponytail holder, Taeyang manically continues, “If I had known, if any of us had known, of course we would’ve come over and fed her. And let her out. And made sure she had water. I don’t care that my apartment is pet free, I would’ve taken her in. But we didn’t know. So instead Mandu pooped all over the floor. We’re never getting some of those stains out of the carpets. We might have gotten rid of the smell, but I don’t know at this point. It’s all burned into my nose too deeply to tell.” 

Exhaling long and a little nervously, Jiung quietly asks, “Mandu is alright, right? I feel like you mentioned Keeho’s family coming and picking her up, but I guess I didn’t– well there were so many other things going on.”

“Yeah, Keeho’s mom has her.” Waving a loose, exhausted hand, Taeyang says, “She missed a few days of food, and she tore up a couple blankets, but she’s fine. She wasn’t happy, and we had to take her to the vet, but she’s alive.”

“Well that’s good at least.” The false positivity in Jiung’s tone is transparent. “I’d hate for anything to happen to the poor girl.”

“Yeah, me too.” Again, Taeyang lapses into a minute of bitter silence before letting out a sharp breath and frustratedly continuing, “But the dog shit wasn’t the only thing we had to clean up. There was a lot of rotten food. More than I think I’ve ever seen before.”

“I thought we pulled most of the perishables out of the fridge,” Jongseob says, as he tries to remember back to the early days of right after Keeho’s kidnapping. “Was it really that bad?”

“We cleared the stuff out that was going to go immediately bad,” Taeyang corrects, like he finds Jongseob’s misapprehensions darkly funny. “Like the milk. And the raw meat. We didn’t clean his fridge out like he was going to be gone forever. Because why would we fucking think that?”

Neither of them answer. Though he’s not quite sure what’s going through Jiung’s head, at least for Jongseob, he knows the answer is because we already knew he wasn’t coming back immediately. But Taeyang can’t read their minds, and he proves this a moment later when he keeps talking.

“I thought he was going to come back. I know in hindsight that sounds crazy, but I just assumed he would show up! It’s Keeho , he always shows up. He doesn’t just disappear into nothing. Like yeah, it’s insane that he would leave his dog alone for a week without telling any of, but someone was going to find him. The cops, or us, or another one of his friends. It wasn’t supposed to–” Voice trembling dangerously in his throat, Taeyang sharply clears it before continuing, in a softer tone, “I wasn’t supposed to be cleaning rotten Chinese leftovers out of the back of his fridge three months later.”

“You could’ve called me,” Jiung reminds the man softly, not quite an I told you so, but something in the same vein. Sympathy mixed with frustration at Taeyang never reaching out. “I know this isn’t easy for you. I know how much of it you’ve been trying to handle. I would’ve helped.”

“I didn’t need help,” Taeyang stresses, practically talking over Jiung. “I didn’t need extra hands or- or any more pity, I just needed to get it done. And now it’s done. And I smell like mold and dog shit. But at least it’s done.”

“You can take a shower upstairs?” Jiung guesses, like that might be a wrong thing to offer.

“I’ll take a shower when I get home,” Taeyang mumbles, with a simple shake of his head. “I don’t– I don’t actually care about the smell that much. I’m just– Just complaining to complain, I think.”

“There’s nothing wrong with that,” Jiung assures Taeyang haltingly, with a quick, indecipherable look over in Jongseob’s direction. “We all need to do it, sometime or other.”

“You mentioned Yechan,” Jongseob comments, in the vain hope of redirecting the conversation topic somewhat.

“Yeah, he’s moving in,” Taeyang murmurs, mouth twisting down. 

Jongseob’s brows furrow. “Is he coming here for school? Or…”

“Yeah, college. Next semester.” Scratching jerkily at the back of his neck, Taeyang hesitates for a moment before saying, in what is almost a lighthearted voice, “That was always the plan, remember? He was going to stay with Keeho while studying. It was going to work out great. If they didn’t immediately kill each other.”

It’s obvious from the way Jiung bites his lip that he’s having to physically stop himself from making any number of tasteless comments at that. Not really caring if Taeyang catches him, Jongseob glares at the man until he’s certain Jiung is going to stay quiet.

“I guess I’m surprised that’s all still going through,” Jongseob admits, turning back to Taeyang. “Considering.”

“Why not, it's a perfectly good house, and a perfectly good college.” Bitterly, Taeyang picks at the arm of the couch. “They’ve already accepted him. Why– why back out of it now?”

He sounds like he’s wishing Yechan would. Though Jongseob doesn’t really know Keeho’s brother, not in any way that means anything, he feels a brief stab of sympathy. One that’s immediately followed by a wave of guilt that he swiftly swallows down before it can show on his face.

“Fuck, I don’t know, I guess I’m glad this isn’t ruining Yechan’s life.” Shaking his head, Taeyang’s expression contorts miserably. “If the kid thinks he can handle living in Keeho’s old house, more power to him, right? I’m not– He’s already going through enough. I’m not trying to put any more pain on him.”

“But being involved in the process is difficult,” Jiung finishes, his tone shockingly sober.

“Yes. Yes it is.” Almost laughing, Taeyang shifts in his seat restlessly for a moment before turning a wild look on Jiung and Jongseob. “I don’t want to go back there. I don’t want to be in that house knowing that Keeho is never going to be there again. My– My friend is dead.”

Like that fact is only now setting in, Taeyang falters, before fumbling out a far softer, “Keeho’s dead. Even if he wasn’t when we filed the police report, he’s dead now.”

Haltingly, Jiung cracks a nervous smile and tries to say, “Come on, you can’t– thinking about it like that isn’t going to help anyone.”

“How the fuck should I think about it, Jiung?” Taeyang demands, whipping his head up as he does. “I just had to clean out the house of my dead friend. Has it– has it even been three months?”

“A little over three months,” Jiung comments, before a glare from Taeyang silences him.

“I’m trying to be normal, you know?” Clenching his hands in his lap, not that it does anything to stop them from trembling, Taeyang purses his lips. The stare he’s giving Jiung is hard, and most definitely manic at this point. “I’m trying not to obsess, I’m trying to move on, I’m trying to- To let myself grieve. But I feel like every time I turn around, I get hit in the face with something new, and it just never fucking ends. I need it to end.” 

Clearly struggling to find words for a moment, Jiung finally settles on, “It’s not that easy. And getting upset with yourself because it isn’t ‘that easy’ isn’t going to help.”

“Why was it that easy for you?” Desperation frays the edges of Taeyang’s voice. True, unfiltered desperation. Like he actually wants an answer. Like he’s begging for it. “You and Jiung and- and Intak, you’re all managing to just get on with things. Hell, you’ve been practically normal. Why can’t I be normal? Why do I have to grieve at my own pace when everyone else figured it the fuck out and kept moving.”

Eyes dropping down to the floor, Jiung doesn’t answer. At the point the silence starts to feel uncomfortable, Jongseob steps in. “Because we’re all different people. It may not seem fair, but that’s just how it is, I guess.”

Glancing sideways at him, a number of emotions pass over Taeyang’s face before he’s pulling on a rueful little smile. “You weren’t even close to him, were you?” As he seems to realize a moment later how that sounds, he holds up a tired hand and mutters, “Which is not me trying to say you can’t comment on this. I’m not trying to be an asshole. It’s just–”

“No, you’re right, I wasn’t close to Keeho.” In his mind’s eye, Jongseob can picture Keeho perfectly. In the basement, crouched on his thin mattress, staring at him with fear and resentment in his sunken eyes. Fuck, for once, he feels like he deserves it. “I still knew him though. And I know you. I don’t want to see you beating yourself up over this.”

Bit by bit, Taeyang deflates, until he looks even more harrowed and gaunt than he did when he walked through the door. “I was the last person to see him, you know?”

Shooting Jongseob a quick glance that’s half something panicked, and half something horribly amused, Jiung pushes out, “Oh. I didn’t know.”

“I didn’t even think about it at the time.” Laughing, Taeyang throws his hands in the air. “He was always going to clubs. He was always staying out too late. I just wanted to go home. I wanted to see my boyfriend. I didn’t– I didn’t have out-until-two-am energy in me. I thought it was fine, it’s always been fine. And then it wasn’t fine.”

“Oh no, don’t blame yourself,” Jiung insists, already extending a hand towards Taeyang. “It won’t get you anywhere. You know it won’t get you anywhere.”

“What else do you want me to do?” Taeyang is definitely trembling at this point, bad enough that Jongseob can feel it, even though they aren’t making any physical contact. “I was there. I knew he’d been drinking. I knew there was at least one guy who was talking about taking him home. I knew it was late and there wasn’t anyone else he knew there. I could’ve- I don’t know, convinced him to leave with me.”

“He’s an adult. Was,” Jiung points out flatly, like he doesn’t think it even needs to be said. “He was going to make his own decisions no matter what you said. You know how he was. If he wanted to stay out, by god he was staying out.”

“I could’ve stayed out with him.” Frantically, Taeyang tugs at his ponytail again before yanking his hands away from his hair. “It was just a couple hours, probably. I bet I could’ve guilted him into leaving in under an hour. And then he would’ve gotten home, and he would’ve texted something stupid to me the next morning, and none of this would’ve happened. I had the chance to keep this from happening.”

“No, you didn’t.” Reaching for Taeyang, Jiung’s face twists. “The only person who could’ve stopped it from happening was Keeho. I know it’s hard to hear that, to believe me, but that’s the truth.”

“I don’t care if you think that’s the truth, I could’ve fucking saved him. I know I could have.”Drawing his knees up to his chest, Taeyang makes another half-hearted gesture. “I could have at least made sure he wasn’t alone. I could’ve known whose car he got into. I could have made sure they weren’t a psychopath. I could’ve– I could’ve helped.”

“Maybe,” Jiung allows. “But you also might have gotten taken too. You don’t know if being there would’ve actually changed anything.”

“Well, I guess we’ll never know, huh?” Taeyang mutters, resting his chin on top of his knees. “Some… creep ass guy probably took him and locked him in a basement somewhere, and he died horribly there, and I was the last person who could have stopped that from happening. And all I did was tell him he was being fucking annoying and that I was going home.”

Taeyang’s words hit just close enough to the truth that Jongseob can practically see Jiung choke on them. Taking the situation into his own hands, before their cover gets blown, he reaches over and wraps an arm around Taeyang’s shoulders. When the man leans into the point of contact, he scoots closer, determined to offer the comfort he can, even if it’s not much at all. “I doubt Keeho saw it that way, and I know he wouldn’t want you to see it that way.”

“I just want him back.” Making a distinctly wet sound at the back of his throat, Taeyang paws at his eyes. “I made fun of him, I told him he was annoying, but I didn’t mean it. Of course I didn’t mean it. That was my best friend. And now I’ve lost him.”

“I mean, miracles have happened before,” Jiung ventures, in what can only be described as the least normal tone of voice Jongseob has ever heard out of him. Which, for better or worse, is only marginally different from every other tone of voice the man has. “As far as I know, the police haven’t found a body, right? I know chances aren’t great, but… People have wandered back before.”

“With all due respect, Jiung, I’m not waiting for a miracle.”

It doesn’t show in his voice, but when Jongseob looks down, he sees the tears streaming down the man’s face. It’s clear he’s desperately trying to hold them back, trying to remain perfectly composed and alright even if he’s not, but the mask is slipping. There’s only so much he can swallow down.

Everyone has a breaking point. Apparently, this is his.

It’s surreal, honestly, Jongseob thinks, as he drags Taeyang into a better hug. They’ve come this far. They’ve done all of this. He’s asked himself countless times if it’s the right thing to do, if it’s even going to turn out in any way he wants. But it isn’t until that moment that the full scope of the cost of what they’re doing sinks in for him.

They have Keeho in the basement, and Taeyang is currently crying on Jiung’s couch because he believes the man is dead. When in reality, Keeho is alive and well and practically unharmed less than one-hundred feet away. It’s dizzying and it’s nausea inducing and he feels guilty. Actually guilty.

But at the same time, he doesn’t feel anywhere near as guilty as he should. And despite the fact this definitely makes him the worst kind of person imaginable, watching Taeyang suffer like this and doing nothing about it, he doesn’t feel bad enough to reveal the deception. There isn’t even a thought in Jongseob’s mind of coming clean, and ending this whole thing now before it goes any further.

Actually, the clearest thought in his head is that he’s glad Keeho has stopped screaming, just so they don’t have to try and explain the sound away. At least they’re able to have Taeyang sitting here right now. At least they’re able to try and comfort the man. If Keeho were still causing a scene, that could never have happened.

He cares about Taeyang, but it’s becoming incredibly apparent that there’s a limit to those emotions. Even now.

Across from Jongseob and Taeyang, Jiung’s phone goes off loudly. An alarm, one that’s personalized and annoying, and completely slices through any peace and solidarity that was coming out of the silence. Just to make it worse, Jongseob’s voice goes off a second later. Loud and obnoxious and instantly startling Taeyang upright.

“I- what’s that?” Clearly disoriented, instantly trying to stifle his tears, Taeyang mops at his face. “Sorry, did I interrupt something?”

Meaningfully, Jongseob and Jiung make eye-contact. Jongseob knows without even looking at his phone that it’s the alarm to feed Keeho. It’s his dinner time. They try to do it at seven o’clock every single day, to give the man at least some sense of time, even if it isn’t a good one. But usually, they don’t have company. Especially not company like Taeyang. 

As Jongseob pulls his phone out of his pocket to silence it, he gives Jiung a single, raised eyebrow. Almost at the same second, Jiung turns off his own alarm and looks back at Jongseob with a withheld sigh. Even that much is enough to communicate exactly what’s going through the man’s head. Yes, they need to feed Keeho, but Taeyang is here, and that’s way more important.

They can worry about Keeho later. He won’t starve in a couple hours.

“Nah, you aren’t interrupting, we were just going to order pizza,” Jiung explains smoothly, with a dismissive wave of his hand. “Sorry, I forgot I left the reminder on.”

“And both of you needed an alarm for that?” Taeyang asks, with an expression that’s very nearly a smile, even with his puffy face.

“Yes,” Jiung says firmly, with a grave nod.

Giving a half shrug, Jongseob pulls a face as though to say you know how Jiung is, before agreeing, “If we didn’t both have it, we’d forget.”

“I- I guess I could order pizza with you guys,” Taeyang suggests, managing a wet chuckle as he does. “Unless you want me gone.”

“No, you can stay as long as you need to.” With a firm nod, Jiung clicks his phone back on and gives Taeyang a reassuring smile. “Just tell me what your order is. It’ll at least smell better than dog shit.”

Sticking his phone back in his pocket, Jongseob settles back down. They can handle their basement captive later. Maybe, if Keeho’s lucky, he’ll even get the leftover pizza.

Or maybe not. 

I don’t know if he deserves something that nice.

￩￮￫◉￩￮￫

Chapter Text

￩￮￫◉￩￮￫

After the thoroughly uncomfortable experience of watching Taeyang break down over Keeho, you’d think Jongseob would have enough common sense to avoid the man for a bit.

Admittedly, it makes him sound like a coward, but at the same time, it’s also pragmatic. After all, Jongseob’s responsible for the whole Keeho-going-missing thing. Trying to engage in conversations about the man with Taeyang is bound to end in something slipping. It’s just not a good situation to put himself in. Not right now.

The evening of it he’s forced to survive through is already headache enough. As fate would have it, Taeyang ends up spending the night. Despite having Intak waiting for him at home, firing off repeated texts, asking if he’s okay, the man still crashes in what was once his bedroom, and is now the upstairs guest room. Jongseob, meanwhile, promptly claims the couch, and tries not to think too hard about anything.

Jiung, curse him, insists there’s no problem with Taeyang staying, and actually, Jongseob-

“We need to loosen up a bit. Otherwise our friends are going to notice something’s up and we’ll blow the whole thing.”

Jongseob, meanwhile, stresses the entire time he’s making Keeho’s dinner and taking it downstairs to the man in question. And then he stresses even more coming back out of the basement, as the very real possibility that Taeyang will catch him looms over his head. Because Jiung’s abandoned him to do this alone and there’s no guarantee their guest will actually stay in his room. Which doesn’t feel good or safe or at all like it’s going to end well.

Still, somehow, despite everything, Jongseob manages to get some sleep. Though, not without locking the basement door beforehand.

Usually, he considers this a precaution a bit too paranoid, even for him. Keeho already has so many different layers of security to get through before ever making it to the basement door that the extra lock is unnecessary. But tonight, there’s a guest in the house, and that guest is the sort that might be nosy enough to go looking. Even if he has no reason to. So the door remains locked, and Jongseob sleeps fitfully. 

Jiung, thankfully, suffers no such afflictions. He still manages to get a full eight hours, wake up with his alarm, and happily makes Taeyang breakfast while assuring Intak over the phone that, yes, his dear boyfriend is fine, just a little groggy, and he’ll be home as soon as he’s had his pancakes. Jongseob, meanwhile, struggles to stay awake at all, as he blinks the fragments of the nightmares he’d had out of his mind’s eye. If Taeyang notices the foul mood he’s in, however, he doesn’t let on.

Instead, he eats his singed pancakes in silence, holds on when hugging Jongseob a bit more tightly than necessary, and goes home. All without ever so much as glancing at the basement door. Proving beyond a shadow of a doubt that yes, Jiung was right, they didn’t have anything to worry about.

You’d think that after that mildly heart-stopping experience, Jongseob would stay away from Taeyang for a bit. At least until he’s certain he can be normal around the man. Despite these good intentions, however, a week and a half later, Jongseob finds himself hanging out with Taeyang yet again, and this time he doesn’t have Jiung around to help.

Alright, that’s a little misleading. Shota is also there with them, but if anything, that just has Jongseob more on edge. Because now, if Taeyang starts asking the wrong questions, he has to lie to two people. And one of said people is far more perceptive than the other one.

For now though, Jongseob’s worries appear to be little more than unfounded paranoia. The three of them have ended up at the aquarium, at Taeyang’s insistence. It’s not a big aquarium, it’s not an impressive aquarium, and in Jongseob’s opinion it’s way too expensive for what it has to offer. But it’s something to do. And Shota has always liked the aquarium. The jellyfish exhibit in particular can entertain him for hours. Taeyang, meanwhile, says the place is quiet. Calm. 

Of course that’d be a draw for him.

Honestly, Jongseob isn’t even sure why he’s part of this. He can see why Taeyang and Shota would be here together. The two of them actually spend quite a bit of time together, when they’re not otherwise busy. They’ve been hanging out even more ever since Keeho disappeared. There’s something about their bond that’s unique- a silent form of communication that Jongseob is familiar with, but isn’t always privy to. It makes sense they’d take this trip to the aquarium. 

Meanwhile, his invitation to come along seems to be nothing but window dressing. He’s here because he’s friends with Shota and because he’d been in the room when Taeyang had called and apparently, he’d ‘needed to see the fish’ too. Jongseob had tried to claim homework as an excuse, but he’d been soundly ignored and dragged along anyway.

So here he is, wandering through corridors of blues and greens and soft, LED mood lighting, while trying not to think too deeply about anything. As of yet, none of their murmured, half-finished conversations have evolved into anything concerning. Hopefully, it stays that way.

“I want to watch the presentation,” Taeyang decides, as they walk into the tiny shark exhibit, and stand out of the way for the handful of parents leaving with their kids. The TV box set they’d been sitting in front of rolls credits, as tinny music plays from an unseen speaker. 

“Haven’t you watched it before?” Jongseob asks, not that he particularly cares one way or another. 

“Maybe I’ve forgotten it,” Taeyang deadpans, making bored, unflinching eye-contact. 

“You can watch it again,” Shota hums, as he wanders over to the huge, reinforced glass wall of this particular exhibit. “We’ll wait.”

Lips twitching, Taeyang settles down into one of the chairs, and almost immediately, even before the opening title screen of the presentation fades, he’s pulling out his phone. Again, Jongseob wonders why he’s even here, as he looks around the room. It’s not that museums aren’t his thing, but he feels like Taeyang has been stuck up in his head all day, and while Shota seems to instinctively know how to work around it, Jongseob doesn’t. The result isn’t necessarily uncomfortable, but it’s not his favorite thing in the world.

As the helpful infographic plays in the background of his hearing, Jongseob wanders over to the massive tank. He’s not sure what species of shark is being kept in there, and doesn’t care enough to find the plaque, but he still watches in detached fascination as the relatively tiny sharks swim through their enclosure. The way they swish around rocks and dart behind the coral reef fixtures is hypnotic. Even if he’s still unclear on why he’s here, he won’t pretend like the aquarium isn’t relaxing. Especially considering how little he gets out these days.

Right now, Jiung is probably at home with Keeho. Chances are, he’s doing what he enjoys doing most of the time; sitting in Keeho’s cell and making a nuisance of himself. Probably, he’s chattering with the man until one or both of them get bored. Maybe he’s even having fun doing that. Jongseob’s just glad he wasn’t expected to participate, because especially this past week, being around Keeho has felt deeply uncomfortable in a way he’s not happy about.

He’s never enjoyed babysitting duty, mind you, and there have been many times where his presence in Keeho’s cell has only heralded their prisoner throwing insults at him and generally being a pain in the ass. But that, dare he say it, had been more tolerable than what he has now. And the more aware of that shift in mood he’s becoming, the harder it is to ignore.

It has something to do with Taeyang visiting, he’s nearly certain. That, and his conversation with Jiung about how they never get out anymore. Possibly, it might even be related to his outburst at Keeho over that story about Keeho’s ex. All of it is mixing together in his head to create this uncomfortable knot of tension. Not quite a headache, but always threatening to be one. Frustration that never goes away.

It’s not guilt, not quite, but it comes closer to it than he would like. And it’s always there. This reminder that the actions he takes have consequences. That no matter how noble the end goal may seem, he has to deal with those consequences. And he hasn’t even been able to fully grasp the shape those consequences are taking.

He just knows they’re there, crouching in his stomach like a growing cancer.

Deliberately, he tries to ignore it. He’s here to be at the aquarium with his friends. Not think about Keeho until it drives him crazy. He’s capable of living a life outside of that man. He won’t let this one thing completely define him.

Beside him, Shota sidles closer. “That shark looks like you.”

The man points deep within the tank. Squinting, Jongseob tries to find the shark in question. There are several swimming around, but as they all move in different directions, he’s able to watch the trajectory along which Shota’s finger drifts. Eventually, he spots the creature in question and his expression falls.

“No it doesn’t,” he scoffs, elbowing Shota in the ribs.

Folding slightly, a big, slightly mischievous smile spreading over his face, Shota insists in his usual happy mumble, “No no, it does. Look at its eyebrows. It totally looks like you.”

“Sharks don’t have eyebrows, dude,” Jongseob argues, shoving the man harder, though at this point he’s laughing too.

“Okay, the cartilage structures above its eyes,” Shota gamely equivocates with a little snort. “Look at it, you’re both making the exact same face.”

Obligingly, Jongseob squints again at the shark. If he’s being generous, he supposes Shota kind of has a point. Both he and the animal have the same resting bitch face, kind of. He doesn’t think he looks quite that stupid, cock-eyed and thoughtless, and he’s at least minorly offended Shota would suggest otherwise, but alright, if he tilts his head a bit–

“Yeah, it definitely looks like you,” Taeyang agrees solemnly, leaning over Jongseob’s shoulder and hooking his chin around his collarbone.

Coughing loudly, Jongseob attempts to shrug the man off of him, only for Taeyang to dig his chin in more firmly. Once it actually starts to hurt, Jongseob gives up and simply grumbles, “What are you doing over here?”

“Looking at sharks,” Taeyang drawls, as he rests his arm on the shoulder of Shota’s that’s closest to him.

“Your presentation isn’t even over,” Jongseob grumbles, jerking his head towards the TV, which is still babbling on in the background.

“I watched the part I forgot,” Taeyang assures him, like he thinks Jongseob is genuinely worried about it. “How will I enjoy the sharks if I’m not looking at them?” 

“Okay, fine, but I don’t look like them,” Jongseob grumbles, crossing his arms and standing a little straighter so Taeyang can drape himself more comfortably against his back.

“You may think that, but it’s two against one,” Taeyang points out, shooting a little bemused look over at Shota. “I think your opinion’s been overruled. And it was wrong in the first place, just so we’re clear.”

“Am I just here to get ganged up on,” Jongseob complains, looking sidelong at the other two men. Taeyang, the bastard, nods sagely like he’s happy Jongseob has finally caught on. Shota, meanwhile, just grins. In that slightly gummy way of his that’s all but impossible to get mad at. Even if sometimes Jongseob wishes he could.

“Alright, I’m bored of looking at sharks,” Taeyang decides, straightening back up until his back pops softly. “Let’s go look at some tropical fish.”

“They said they were showing Finding Dory in the IMAX theater,” Shota tells Taeyang, as he follows the man towards the other doorway of the exhibit.

“We’ll see when the showings are,” Taeyang decides, throwing an arm around his shoulders. “If it’s not too expensive, we can watch a movie.”

Jongseob, meanwhile, is left to trail after the two of them, a little bit lost in thought as he does. He’s fine with being here, he doesn’t mind Taeyang and Shota dragging him to random places, but he does still feel, in some strange way, like an outsider. Like there’s a solidarity between the other two men at the moment that he just isn’t allowed to be a part of.

It’s not bothering him, not in any capacity that matters, but he’s still aware of it. He wishes, as he ambles through the doorway from one type of shimmering blue lighting to another, more tropical shade, that he wasn’t

As they do slow circles around the exhibit, Taeyang trying to navigate the aquarium website while Shota stares intently at fish, Jongseob finds himself lagging behind. He has to admit, even with the other aquarium patrons wandering around, it’s peaceful here. Perhaps there are too many thoughts in his head for him to totally relax, but it’s a far cry from how shitty he’s been feeling. Almost back to normal, actually.

Almost.

“If we want to catch the next movie showing, we’ve got to wait for around an hour,” Taeyang comments, as he finally stuffs his phone back into his pocket and starts paying attention to the exhibits around him. “But that’s only if we care enough.” 

“I want to see it still,” Shota decides, as he crouches down before one coral filled tank and crowds closer until he’s almost pressed up against the glass. His breath fogs it up slightly, a little, radiating fan that disappears on each inhale. 

“Isn’t there a cafeteria here,” Jongseob asks, looking over at Taeyang. “If we run out of fish, we can always kill time there.”

“We won’t run out of fish,” Shota says firmly, as he crab-shuffles several inches to the left before resuming his intent observation.

Absently, Jongseob glances at the nearest plaque. It’s got a neat little summary of information about the purple and yellow fish supposedly contained within the tank. Royal Gammas. Jongseob isn’t going to try and pronounce the technical name. A minute and a half of squinting, however, produces no such matching fish. Instead, Jongseob ends up watching schools of tiny, unidentified marine life dart back and forth between the mounds of bright coral. Shota may have a point, they probably won’t run out of fish. 

“Well, as long as nobody has anything else to do today,” Taeyang decides, with an unconcerned shrug. “I know you guys have… Classes. And homework? I wouldn’t want to get in the way of all that.”

“We can spend an afternoon at the aquarium,” Jongseob says, as he crouches down in front of a tank of his own. “If I have to stare at one more calculus problem, I might really do it this time.”

“It’s calculus, it’s not the end of the world,” Taeyang scoffs, as he drifts over to stand beside Shota. “I made it through that class. Intak made it through that class. Hell, I think even Keeho passed.”

“He had to retake it,” Shota hums, without prompting.

Mouth twitching, a reaction Jongseob only catches because he can see the man’s reflection in the aquarium glass, Taeyang is silent for a long moment before abruptly declaring, “You know, all things considered, Keeho had to retake way fewer classes than I expected. I think it was only the one. I kept telling him he was going to have to redo more though. Every time he came home at four am drunk off his ass. And somehow I was wrong.”

“I haven’t had to retake any yet,” Shota comments, pressing his fingers up against the glass. Almost instantly, several of the colorful fish inside get closer, comfortable enough with aquarium visitors to be curious.

“Yeah, but you’re actually smart,” Taeyang argues, crossing his arms. “Keeho’s stupid.” 

“Keeho wasn’t stupid,” Shota says simply, without looking up at the other man.

Though Jongseob isn’t trying to see it, he still notices the way Taeyang flinches. Probably at Shota’s use of past tense for Keeho. For the most part, none of them have been particularly consistent about referring to Keeho as being dead, or in any other particular state of being. God knows Jongseob switches between past and present tense all the time. Jiung seems a little more conscientious about it, but even he’s slipped up. Taeyang goes back and forth, with what he picks seeming to entirely depend on his current mood.

Shota is the only one who reliably uses was. Every single time. Since that first week after Keeho vanished.

“I’m… Mostly joking,” Taeyang decides, rubbing his arms. “I know he has– did have a brain. I just remember being in school with him, and all the stupid shit he did, and– whatever.”

Before kidnapping Keeho, Jongseob would probably have made some sarcastic remark at this point. A variation of ‘my condolences,’ something that Taeyang would’ve laughed at. But in this particular moment, Jongseob can feel how swiftly the mood has soured, and he can’t quite bring himself to turn it into a joke. Or even to interrupt Taeyang and Shota’s conversation at all.

“It would’ve been fun to know him when he was in school,” Shota says, like he’s thought about it before and this is an informed statement he’s making. “I would’ve liked that.”

“I wouldn’t worry about it too much,” Taeyang says with a jerky little wave of his hand. “He was basically the exact same person after college as he was in college. You didn’t miss much. Just him being a dumbass, honestly.”

“I always enjoyed it when he acted silly.” Shota says, and though he turned in such a way that Jongseob can’t see his face, he can hear the smile in the man’s voice. Warm and fond.

It’s a relatively small thing, but it still settles something in Jongseob’s stomach. It’s been a long time since he’s talked to Shota about Keeho. It’s been an even longer time since he asked the man how he feels about the man romantically. If everything was still the same as before, or if things have changed. Mostly, because he’s been worried about it coming off as weird, or worse, insensitive. This, though- this feels like proof that everything is as it was. Whether Keeho has been gone for months or not.

“He annoyed me so much,” Taeyang announces, moving away from Shota’s side so he can pace over to a different wall of glass. “I loved him to pieces, but he could be insufferable.”

Shota doesn’t answer. He just keeps staring at the same fish. Perhaps he’s mesmerized by them. Perhaps he’s too lost in thought to process what he’s looking at in the first place.

Apparently though, Taeyang doesn’t need an interactive audience. Instead, he keeps talking, babbling on even as he leans over a cluster of placards. “I’m sure he would say it’s part of his charm. Fuck, maybe he’s right. If he suddenly stopped being annoying, I would’ve been worried. but oh my God, especially towards the tail end of college, I think I wanted to strangle him.” 

“But you didn’t,” Jongseob observes, the words almost a joke, but lacking the appropriate tonal indicators to really carry it through.

“No, I never would have. Life would’ve been so much worse without him.“ Pausing, Taeyang fiddles with the sleeve of his jacket for several long, almost painful seconds before stiltedly adding, “Life is worse without him.”

“Yeah,” Shota agrees, in a soft tone. 

While he’d already been feeling a little out of place before, not quite sure why he got invited to the aquarium trip in the first place, Jongseob is abruptly struck with the sense that he shouldn’t be here at all. This conversation isn’t for him. It doesn’t involve him. It’s not anything he can relate to. And he can tell from the sudden heaviness of the room that it does matter to Taeyang and Shota. It matters quite a bit.

“Do you… miss him?” Taeyang asks, as he wanders over to another piece of the aquarium exhibit. It’s one he’s already looked at, but it’s clear he’s not really paying attention to anything. 

“I do,” Shota admits softly, briefly looking up at Taeyang before turning his attention back to the fish. 

“I hope- I hope we’re all able to move on. Eventually.” Making a discomforted sound under his breath, Taeyang corrects himself. “No, I don’t mean it like– I’m not trying to forget him or anything. I just wish things felt more normal.”

Shota doesn’t answer, doesn’t even make any obvious signs he registered Taeyang’s words. But Jongseob knows the man. He recognizes the haze behind his eyes, the way his breathing changes, the way his fingers twitch against the glass. Even when he doesn’t speak, he’s always listening. And doubtless, this conversation is hitting him just as hard as it is Taeyang. Harder in some ways, probably.

“Sorry, I’m still trying to process he’s gone.“ Picking at his sleeve more forcefully, worsening the frayed edge that’s steadily tearing a hole in his cuff, Taeyang says, “Yechan moved into his house yesterday. And his dog is back, and the lights are on again, and it wasn’t Keeho that came to the door. I just– I don’t know, I’m not sure what I’m supposed to do about it.” 

Again, Shota stays silent. Fleetingly, Jongseob considers speaking up, just to fill the air, maybe to shift the topic of conversation, but Taeyang’s talking again before he can make up his mind, so he keeps his mouth shut.

“I shouldn’t talk about it, I know I shouldn’t talk about it. I’m sorry if I’m upsetting you. I promise I don’t mean to.” Turning, Taeyang stares in Shota’s direction. “I just feel like you’re the only one who gets it. No offense, Jongseob.” 

“None taken,” Jongseob murmurs, as he watches the other two.

“It’s fine,” Shota says, tone flat but far from unsympathetic. “I do get it.”

“I can’t even imagine what you went through,” Taeyang continues, with a vast but somehow unexpressive wave of his hand. “At least I wasn’t in love with him. You were in love with him, right?”

Jongseob would never have asked that question so bluntly, so openly, but if it upsets Shota, it doesn’t show on his face. Instead, he simply gives a nod and says, “I am.”

He says it so simply. Not an ‘I was’, not any other variations of how now that Keeho is gone, he’s moving on, just that he still is. Admittedly, Jongseob’s stomach clenches with guilt at Shota’s admission. It’s what they want, he can practically hear Jiung telling him this is exactly what they want, but it feels fucking awful. To know that he is in some way responsible for making his best friend miserable, and he can’t even apologize for doing it.

“Sometimes it feels like I’m the only person who’s sad that he’s gone,” Taeyang admits, frustration and grief leaking out into his tone. “But you- you feel the same. It’s not just me.”

At the way that Shota’s eyes dim further, Jongseob softly comments, “It was never just you.”

“Sure, that’s what everyone keeps telling me,” Taeyang agrees sarcastically, not meeting Jongseob’s gaze.

“I’m sad that he’s gone, but I try not to think about it,” Shota interrupts, before Taeyang and Jongseob can actually start arguing.

“I’ve been trying to, I promise,” Taeyang mumbles, staring at the floor. “But it’s hard.”

“I miss him, I wish he was still here.” Shota’s voice is unwavering. His expression is flat. Not smiling, but not miserable, not like Taeyang looks right now. Still, there’s loss in it. There’s grief, in whatever particular way Shota feels grief. Jongseob has long known that his best friend feels emotions in a different capacity, processes them in ways that most everyone else just wouldn’t get. But he feels things all the same.

Right now, despite the lack of an obvious reaction on his face, it’s clear just how much this is weighing on him.

“We all wish Keeho were still here,” Taeyang agrees, with a jerky nod.

“But missing him doesn’t change much,” Shota continues, lifting his eyes up towards Taeyang’s reflection in the aquarium glass. “So I try not to think about him too much.”

“What if-” Hesitating for a split second, Taeyang all but bursts, “What if he’s not dead. What if he’s actually still out there?”

The question is followed by several seconds of dead silence. Jongseob doesn’t flinch, but his vision does tunnel, as he becomes uncomfortably aware of his pulse thudding in his ears. Taeyang, meanwhile, just stands there frozen, that same desperate look on his face. Like whatever reaction he gets for this question determines something a lot more important than he wants to admit.

Blinking once, Shota gives Taeyang his whole attention. “What?”

“I mean what if we’re assuming he’s gone when he’s not.” Giving a little shake of his head, Taeyang moves closer to Shota. “They haven’t found a body. They haven’t found any conclusive evidence pointing to anything. So what if he’s just been kidnapped. What then?”

“What do you mean?” Shota asks, brows furrowing slightly in confusion.

“I don’t know, Jiung suggested the idea a few days ago,” Taeyang babbles, making small aborted gestures as he does. “And he got me thinking, what if there’s hope? What if he comes back?”

“If he has been kidnapped,” Shota begins slowly, his eyes fixed on Taeyang the entire time. “I hope whoever has him is treating him nicely.”

“That– that’s it?” Giving a thin laugh, Taeyang stares at Shota with wild eyes. “If he’s still out there, we might be able to find him. Or the police could find him. I could try asking around the clubs he goes to, maybe someone knows something. Or saw somebody watching him, or–”

Slowly rising to his feet, as the frantic energy in Taeyang’s tone mounts, Jongseob puts out a hand. “Hey, Taeyang, I know Jiung made an offhanded comment, but–”

“I want him to be alive,” Taeyang interrupts, wheeling on Jongseob. “Am I the only person who wants Keeho to still be alive?”

“Hey,” Jongseob repeats, raising his voice just enough to cut Taeyang off. “You don’t think Shota still wants him alive? You don’t think Jiung or Intak or I don’t want him to still be alive? I know you’re upset, but you need to calm down.”

“Don’t tell me–” Taeyang starts to growl, only for Shota to break in, his monotone voice effortlessly cutting through the swiftly budding argument, like it was never there.

“I want Keeho to still be alive too.” Despite the mounting tension in the room, Shota still hasn’t moved. He’s still crouching on the floor exactly where he was before, body loose, eyes wide. “But I don’t think he is, so there’s no point in talking about it.”

“But we might be able to do something,” Taeyang says– pleads with Shota. “If he’s still out there–”

“If,” Jongseob echoes pointedly, as he takes another step forward and puts himself between Taeyang and Shota.

“Alright, even if it is only an if, it’s still worth thinking about,” Taeyang insists, glancing between Jongseob and Shota desperately. “Surely if–”

“Talking about it makes me sad.” Shota’s admission is soft. Not quite awkward, but a bit like the words are being dragged out of him. “Thinking about him being kidnapped and mistreated makes me sad. And I don’t know why thinking about it is going to help.”

That, perhaps predictably, takes the wind out of Taeyang’s sails. “Shit, I– I didn’t mean to make you-” Drawing in a harsh breath, the man hangs his head. “I just don’t want to think about the fact that he’s gone.”

Getting to his feet, shoes squeaking a bit against the linoleum flooring, Shota neatly side steps Jongseob before reaching out to Taeyang. Making a thick sound in the back of his throat, Taeyang steps into the hug, practically sagging into Shota’s hold as he does. 

“I don’t want to think about it either,” Shota agrees softly, as he squeezes Taeyang to the point where his grip almost looks painful. “So I don’t.” 

“I know, I know,” Taeyang mumbles into Shota’s shoulder. “I just–”

“Let’s talk about something else,” Jongseob interjects firmly, before the man has a chance to continue to ramble. “We’re at the aquarium. There are fish. We haven’t even seen the jellyfish yet. There are other things to talk about.” 

Lifting his eyes up, Taeyang stares mournfully at him for several long seconds before dropping his gaze once more. “I guess I did want to come here to distract myself.” 

“Exactly, so let’s get distracted,” Jongseob encourages.

Loosening his grip on Taeyang slightly, Shota pulls back a bit before deliberately saying, “You don’t have to forget about Keeho. I’m never going to forget about him. You just have to stop obsessing.” 

There’s something a bit too personal in those words. A bit too raw. If Taeyang notices it though, it doesn’t let on. Instead, he draws in a shuddering breath, and runs his fingers through Shota’s hair like he’s trying to neaten the man up, before carefully pulling away. “You’re right. Of course you’re right. Let’s-” Shaking himself, he straightens his jacket. “Let’s go look at fish.” 

They end up spending the rest of the afternoon at the aquarium. Far longer than Jongseob anticipated, long enough that Jiung deems it necessary to text several times and ask if he’s still alive. They stay long enough to watch the movie. And then they get food in the cafeteria, then they watch the free documentary on narwhals that’s playing in the theater. In the end, they stay long enough that the conversation about Keeho is all but completely forgotten.

Or at least, it seems like Taeyang and Shota have forgotten. For Jongseob, the conversation continues to turn over and over and in his mind. For the rest of the time they’re wandering around the aquarium, and even once he’s headed back to Jiung’s place.

Honestly, at first, he’s not even sure why he’s obsessing. It’s nothing new. It’s nothing he didn’t know. Hell, it’s practically nothing he hasn’t heard someone already say at some point. None of this should really be even registering for him, much less causing him any sort of mental anguish.

And yet it keeps circling through his mind like a broken record. All he can think about is Shota’s small, grief filled expressions, and his almost childishly naive plea of, ‘if he has been kidnapped, I hope they’re treating him alright’.

For all Jongseob and Jiung are keeping Keeho alive, they’re not treating him well. Intentionally, Jiung would say, ‘for the greater good’. But maybe Jongseob isn’t the only one who’s kind of lost sight of their end goal, because they’re supposed to be doing this to make Shota happy. And right now, they’re not. They’re making him miserable. More miserable than Jongseob had fully appreciated until now.

Sure, probably the more concerning thing about Shota and Taeyang’s conversation was the fact that Taeyang seemed hell-bent on believing Keeho’s actually been kidnapped instead of just killed. Naturally, if he starts digging around in the right places, he might actually find something. Jongseob and Jiung will have to be even more vigilant than usual. They’ll have to be worried about Taeyang asking questions, and finding out things he shouldn’t know.

Jongseob doesn’t really care about that though. What he cares about is the fact he’s letting his best friend down. Even if Shota doesn’t know that’s what Jongseob is doing, it’s still happening. Jongseob is aware. And it digs at his insides, like an ice pick. Leaving trenches and grooves in what he’d previously believed was an iron clad will, and an ability to just not feel bad over this whole thing.

His attempts at stoicism were foolhardy. He does care. And even though he knows it probably won’t help anything in the long run, he feels compelled to do something about it.

Which is why, when he takes Keeho his dinner that evening, Jongseob brings the key to the padlocks with him. He doesn’t intend to do anything drastic, nothing that’ll really change much, but he has to do something. For the sake of his own conscience if nothing else.

As usual, Keeho shies away from him when he first walks in. The man is definitely looking worse for wear. The clothes he’s been wearing literally since he got here are starting to develop holes, and worn patches in his knees. His eye bags are notably worse. His hair has grown out, almost entirely covering his ears at this point, and hanging in his face when he first picks his head up.

“Oh, it’s you,” Keeho mutters, in a tone of voice that suggests he really didn’t expect anyone else. 

“It’s dinner time,” Jongseob says lamely, like Keeho can’t see the bowl, and doesn’t know his own schedule. 

“You can just leave it on the table,” Keeho says dismissively, before darting his eyes up and tacking on a quick, “Please. I’m not hungry right now.”

If Jiung had been down here, he would’ve launched into some sort of spiel about how Keeho needs to keep up his strength, and not eating isn’t going to help anyone. But Jongseob doesn’t have that kind of energy. Instead, he leaves the food on the table before walking over to the shit bucket in the corner. Out of habit at this point, if nothing else.

“Jiung already cleaned it,” Keeho mumbles, voice flat. “You don’t have to worry about it.”

Staring down at the stained, eternally rancid bucket, Jongseob fiddles with the key in his pocket. He should say something. He needs to nut up, or he needs to leave. Waffling like this isn’t good for anyone. 

It’s just that after months of finally giving into some of his worst impulses and treating Keeho like little more than an animal, it’s hard to face the fact that he might have been wrong. Maybe not entirely, but enough that it’s eating at him. Enough that his stomach hurts, and his head isn’t doing much better.

Steeling himself, Jongseob wordlessly reaches down, picks up the bucket, and takes it out of Keeho’s room.

Tiredly, with what can only be described as an air of defeat about him, Keeho watches Jongseob go. He doesn’t fight it. But he also doesn’t look hopeful that it’s leading to anything good. Almost like he just expects his conditions to get worse, as a matter of principle. And why shouldn’t he, because for the most part, that’s all that ever happens.

But for once, he’s wrong. Because the next thing Jongseob does is go and dig up the pillow he’d taken away from Keeho a few weeks ago before bringing it back to the man’s cell. He leaves the blanket, he doesn’t want to entirely go back on his earlier punishment, but he does make a point of putting a new pillowcase on the pillow before giving it to Keeho.

He swears when he sets it down on the man’s mattress, Keeho’s eyes sparkle. Like he’s been struck by a beam of sunlight, and not a single shitty lightbulb that hardly works in the first place.

Before Keeho can ask any questions- or can make Jongseob think too hard about the decisions- he steps over to the man’s chain and pulls out the key. Again, Keeho stays stock still. Like he doesn’t know whether to expect good things from this or bad things. But at least in this case, he has nothing to fear. For once, Jongseob thinks he actually might care.

Maybe that’s misleading. Maybe the only person in this equation he actually cares about is Shota, but he thinks it still counts. Especially when Keeho’s reaction to the lock being removed is a deep, shuddering breath, and a soft whisper under his breath of, “Thank you.”

“Don’t get too excited,” Jongseob mutters, stuffing the lock back into his pocket. “Try to clean yourself up in the sink when you get a chance.” 

“Yeah, I– I will.” Still not moving, back against the wall and knees drawn to his chest, Keeho clears his throat before tentatively asking, “Did I– was I good? Is there something I should keep doing so I don’t-”

“This has nothing to do with you,” Jongseob admits bluntly, cutting Keeho off before he can continue to mislead himself, or worse, ascribe mercy to Jongseob where none really exists.

“Oh, okay,” Keeho says, a little too quickly, like he’s worried he’s pissed Jongseob off. “Just– I– who does it have to do with?”

“I wouldn’t worry about it,” Jongseob advises, as he heads towards the door. “Someone just got me thinking.” 

Before Keeho can ask anymore questions that Jongseob is inevitably going to dodge, he leaves the room. This time though, he doesn’t bother bolting the door. He’s just given the man some freedom. Might as well let him enjoy it. Hopefully, this will help ameliorate some of that guilty feeling. Even if it doesn’t fix all of it, a slight improvement surely has to be better than none.

“You look fucking miserable,” Jiung comments, as Jongseob walks back out of the basement. “What happened down there, was Keeho being insufferable again?”

“No,” Jongseob says tiredly. “I was just giving Keeho bathroom privileges back.” 

Immediately, Jiung’s eyebrows pop up. “Did he do something right?”

“Not really,” Jongseob mutters. “Shota made a few comments earlier. I figured… I figured this was the least we could do.” 

For a moment, Jiung regards Jongseob, like he’s judging whether he’s of sound mind. Trying to decide if the call he’s made is a good one, or a terrible one. Whatever he finds must pass muster though, because a couple of seconds later, his face relaxes once more, and he shrugs.

“If you think that’ll help get us closer to our goal, I won’t argue.”

While he may not be sure, Jongseob certainly hopes so.

If you’re listening, Shota, if you know what’s going on, just know that I did this for you.

￩￮￫◉￩￮￫