Listen to this while reading: 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ADgMPRTZNrE

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A blonde figure paced the outskirts of the room, listening to the CDs playing in his stereo in hopes of calming himself down.

“I need out, I need out, I need out, I need out…”

His quiet whispers grew more and more frantic as his steps began to move faster, words slurring as he dug a path into the floorboards before bolting for the door, grabbing and shaking the door handle as it refused to budge, refused to let him leave the locked room.

“LET ME OUT!” He finally cried, his voice matching that of a bloodcurdling scream that could chill any man to the very depths of their bones. He couldn’t stand it. Being locked in one place, unable to move, the lock only openable by one person and he didn’t want to hurt them to get the key. He turned his back to the door, leaning against it as he slid down, trying to focus on the music to let it clear his mind.

You know. It wasn’t always like this.

The first time he entered the room, he held the key. He remembers how he swung it around his finger, before adorning it to the rest of the keys on his necklace, tucking it under his shirt. He was curious. Curious of the new room before him. The one that shared the room with him was energetic, giving him a sense of rush that he hadn’t felt in a while.

He enjoyed playing the games in the room, didn’t mind being in it, even as the titles of the room changed. It started as a living room, a commonplace for everyone and anything, then moved deeper into a kitchen, more of a sentimental thing. It seemed to get more and more different with each time he stepped into the room. Before long it transfer to a bedroom, the closest he’d ever gotten to someone, a new room to venture into that he never had been in--but he knew he wouldn’t stay long.

You see, he grew bored easily. He didn’t like staying in one place, revealing everything he had to show, then stay put there. No. After you knew everything about someone it grew boring with no more excitement. No more fun games to play. So, he’d move the room back to the beginning and shut the door, locking it in place with his many keys till he would revisit it again and start over--that’s why he had so many. So many people, so many rooms, all locked up at his command. This was how he liked it. He could control how close he got to someone, and when he could leave, never stepping into the bedroom-like setting.

But being in it was so...different.

Someone finally understood him. Someone let him go into theirs, so he allowed them into his. And he was fine with that...till the door started to jam. He felt like the other had begun to treat him differently, started thinking he was different than what he was. That’s when he realized he was too close, and tried to cover himself with a mask to back himself out again. But with each opening of that door it became harder to leave, and the scenery never changed to how he wanted, just drifting farther and farther away from what he liked and wanted. First it was objects on the dresser, to the color of the curtains, to the bedspread--he didn’t like it.

And that’s when the door snapped shut.

He tried opening it, to find the door locked and a specific key missing from his necklace. It had been snuck off him. That’s when he started to panic. He didn’t know what to do, he didn’t know how to get it back. He’s never been here before how does he go back, how does he open a door that he doesn’t have control over. He began thinking while the owner of the stolen key was gone, figuring out the only way was to attack the person and take the key back.

The key was what kept him sane. The key was the only thing keeping him from the dark closet that would suffocate his very being. And he tried--only to fail. Without his key he was weak. He revealed too much to the other. He didn’t want to hurt the thief. He couldn’t. If he hurt the thief, they would in return hurt themselves over his retreat and he didn’t want that. He wanted to go back. Back to the original floorplan. Back to that pink key that pressed coldly against his chest while he slept. Back to safety.

But he couldn’t.

There was no way for him to get the key back without hurting the new owner of it.

He knew the relationship wasn’t safe now, and the voices from the other rooms told him so, telling him to get out of the room, and go back to the safety of the other rooms. He just couldn’t do it.

So there he sat. Pacing and pacing. Trying his patience in the silence of the missing other, till he would finally throw himself against the door and try and claw and break his way out, covering his fingers in splinters and ripped nail, his arms and torso covered in bruises while his toes broke from attempted kicks and stumbles.

Throwing objects to the now boarded windows that would do no damage, just shatter at the impact to the surface.

And then he would just lay there, aching, watching as the room reset itself back to the sickening perfection it was--he always hated perfection.

Perfection was a nuisance.

Perfection was a trap.

And it would all just repeat. Over and over. Again and again. Till he was too tired and hurt to move. Yet each time the other came…

The blonde was cut out of his deep monologue as something brushed the door, causing him to jolt from it. He quickly stood, turning the music off as he paced in the center of the room, feeling a transparent seal pass over him, a mask that covered his bruises, his pain. Covered his broken bones and splinters to make him appear just as perfect as everything around him.

He stopped as the lock jiggled, before finally click, the door pushing open. In the doorway was a shorter male, who smiled brightly as the blonde, before shutting and latching the door behind him.

“Did you have a good day, Tae Puppy~?” The figure hummed, and the blonde responded earnestly, his voice smooth even though his throat was cracked and raw.

“It was okay, but it’s better now that you’re here, Jiminine~” The blonde smiled through his dry, teeth bitten lips that were swollen and cracked by the chewing, but appeared soft and pink to the other. Jimin laughed lightly, taking off his jacket and his bag, a glitter of a pink key appearing for an instant from his chain necklace, hidden among the beads, but showing just enough for Taehyung to know it was there. Hidden behind the other’s shirt collar.

“Aw, did my baby miss me?” On cue, Taehyung instantly went over and hugged the other, picking him up and pressing him lightly against the wall the release some of the weight, the hold soft while underneath the body heat was too hot for him to bare. But he knew what would happen if the other felt he wasn’t getting loved. He forced himself not to wince at the scars that lined his body from broken objects thrown at him that the other couldn’t see, but he could feel.

Jimin giggled, wrapping his arms gingerly around the tan neck of his lover, while the grip to the blonde was suffocating. But he let it alone. Because he knew he had to behave or bad things could happen to the other. If he sat in his corner, he could only do it for so long before the air in the room would cut off and he’d be deprived of air till he finally gave his keymaster his voice.

He had to snap out of his thoughts as Jimin’s lips traced his, gentle, but the life from his chest like a snake.

“You know, we haven’t played in a while...why don’t we play a little game, huh, puppy?” Taehyung just obediently nodded, letting the other down to be led to the bed and pushed down onto it, giving the right expressions and movements while feeling blank and motionless underneath.

But he had to.

This was what he put himself into.

He had a collar around his neck after all.

And he’s not the one holding onto the leash.