A/N: So sorry for taking so long to upload, guys. I'm very busy at the moment. I'll try to upload more regularly again, though... You can bug me in the comments so I won't forget again ;D

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Pain.

Pain everywhere. Jiyong tried not to move and breathe steadily. He kept his eyes closed and desperately focused on everything else but his aching body and the terrible memories of what had happened this morning.

The cold, hard ground beneath him.

Jiho's faint scent, still lingering in the wet cloth he pressed to his face. Jiho must be quite fond of the scarf and wear it often as it still smelled a bit like him even if it had been washed several times now.

His fingers were wrinkly from holding the wet cloth all the time. Or rather from showering, Jiyong wasn't sure.

He thought of how quickly and painfully they had seized him this morning. Had dragged him up the stairs, not saying a word, and he had anticipated something bad to happen.

They had pushed him to the ground, all four of them around him...

Angry screams, they were accusing each other so fast he couldn't follow completely. All he felt was panic, pain, fear. He was laying on the floor, getting kicked, desperately trying to protect his head. Then two of them left and the other two turned to him again.

Pain everywhere.

He couldn't even hear himself screaming anymore.

He was sure he would die that moment.

Helplessness, the urge to fight and live, but he knew he was too weak.

Then, finally, the wish for everything to be over. He remembered being at the edge of unconsciousness, when the father stopped his son and pulled out the knife. His malicious smile when he explained a bit of blood on Jiyong's picture would work wonders.

Jiyong tried to crawl away, but the younger guy stepped on his ankle. Or rather jumped.

Strange, how he didn't remember the immediate pain.

Next thing he knew for sure was the man sitting on top of him, wielding the knife like crazy, cutting all over Jiyong's arms while he tried to at least fend off the blade from his head.

And he wished the son had just broken his neck before.

Jiyong felt his heart race in his chest. His eyes jerked open but there was only the concrete ceiling and a dirty lightbulb over him. He tried to roll over in a fetal position, but just moaned in pain and stopped the movement. He didn't want to feel anything, didn't want to wonder about which bones were broken or not. Every breath remembered him that he wasn't alright. Even looking at his forearms told him about what they had done to him when kicking wasn't fun anymore. The knot in his throat told him he was about to cry once more.

Focus on something else!, he ordered himself and tried to regain his calm breathing.

Closed his eyes again.

He heard his blood rush in his ears and his heart pounding in his chest.

Then he heard Jiho's voice. Faint, but he could hear it. Singing. Like last evening. Jiyong laid very still to hear him.

Just focus on Jiho's voice. Nothing else. Breathing could hurt worse, maybe there even aren't any broken ribs that could pierce your lung. And if you're bleeding internally – well, then you'll die soon enough so they won't hurt you ever again...

He felt his heart rate coming down.

Jiho sang a long time. Jiyong had no idea how long, actually, until he heard them come again and had to fight the raising panic. Jiho kept singing until they unlocked his door.

Jiyong heard him talk to the kidnapper. Both voices sounded annoyed. Then a cursing, definitely not Jiho, and steps approaching his door. He squeezed his eyes firmly shut and prayed to just get his food and then be left alone. His door was opened, an unfriendly grunt, someone coming into his room. He flinched when they got down next to him. Then he heard Jiho's voice.

“Hey. How're you doin'?”

Jiyong looked at the younger and was relieved that it was him.

“Could be better.” He tried to smile, but it hurt too much. Jiho's eyes were full of sympathy when he grabbed the scarf and got up to wash it.

“I convinced them to allow me to make sure your won't die.” Jiho sounded slightly amused. “Here, your scarf. I'll get your food, they gave it to me.”

Jiyong felt deeply thankful to have someone care for him. When the younger sat down next to him with the small tray with the usual food on it, a wave of shame washed over Jiyong. This was an embarrassing, humiliating and undignified situation. But he couldn't help it.

Maybe Jiho had guessed his thoughts, as he said: “Please don't be ashamed of yourself. It's not your fault we're in this crappy situation. It's not your fault they're inhuman, greedy, sadistic s up there.” He helped Jiyong sit up can handed him the broth.

“I can bring you more water if you want to.”

“Thank you.” Jiyong sighed. “I just wish I could properly work out an escape plan with you instead of needing help and looking like crap.”

Jiho nodded in agreement. “They didn't break a bone, did they?” He gestured towards Jiyong's face. “Your nose seems to be okay...”

“No idea. Everything hurts. But I think my torso is worse off, I managed to protect my head most of the time.”

Jiho got up to fetch his own food.

They ate in silence, only interrupted when Jiyong moved in an unfavourable manner and winced.

“You know what?”, Jiho mumbled after a while, mouth full of rice.

“Mh?”

“The guy who let me into your room. He was alone. And unarmed. He's the slender one, I think he operated the camera when they had taken me upstairs. He persuaded the others to not smash my head because I had my concussion. And he accepted when I told him you could die if no one looked after you. He seems to have some sense.”

Jiyong just remembered all four of them beating the hell out of him.

“His boots were as hard as those of the others”, he answered sourly. “And he just left me with his crazy relatives.”

“Sorry, what I meant to say was: Maybe he's naïve. He's the weakest, but yet you can engage him into conversation. Maybe... if you still want me to escape, he's our guy.”

Jiyong chewed his rice delicately and thought about this for a moment, reconsidered, now, that he was emotionally more stable.

He wanted someone to rescue him and Jiho. If Jiho escaped, he could get help. If they were lucky, someone would come for him within a few hours after Jiho had left. But...

“I'll probably die of fear if you leave me”, he admitted, “but you need to get out. The faster, the better. Then the police can come and fetch me.”

Jiho looked into his eyes and seemed torn, struggling between staying and caring for Jiyong and running away.

“Don't worry about me!”, Jiyong insisted. “Sorry for saying I would be scared. Of course I will, but you just need to be fast enough! I'm sure half of Korea is looking for us, you'll get help pretty quickly. Just seize the right moment.”

Jiho still looked unsure.

“Please, Zico!”

They came in twos some time later, again with a gun, took the trays and led Jiho back into his cell. The moment his door was locked, Jiyong felt fear and loneliness crawling back to him out of the corners of his prison, stronger than ever before. What had happened this day had destroyed all of his mental barriers. He prepared for a terrible night.

Indeed, he barely slept, he missed Jiho's voice. When he managed to doze off, he was haunted by nightmares, involving getting beaten up, him or Jiho being tortured, one of them dying and other unpleasant images. The lightbulb Jiho had left switched on started flickering, causing him even more terror. He kept his eyes shut and humming random melodies while he tried to think of every happy situation he had been in in his whole life. He barely remembered any.