Tao doesn't know how long he's been lying on the cold, hard floor doing nothing but thinking. 

When Eunhyuk told him that the first step of his torture was to think, he'd thought the man was only joking. Thinking being torture? Please. Giving him a packet of math homework and telling him to finish it by tomorrow morning would be worse than thinking.

But that was before. Now, Tao believes that Eunhyuk, is a sick, cruel man.

He never imagined that being left alone to think would be so awful. All he does now is think. At first, it was about why he was here, why he was bait. He theorized about what these people were, why their gang was at war with Kris'. He wondered about whether they really were just rival gangs or something more. 

Then, he ran out of things to ponder over, and that's when he realized how agonizing it was. 

His mind had nothing else to think about, so it conjured up living nightmares and replayed them like a mantra. They haunted him during every waking minute and every sleep-filled second. They relentlessly, poking fun at the innocence Eunhyuk mentioned way back when. They never rested even when he's had enough, and it makes him realize that he hates thinking. It makes him feel more helpless than he had when he'd first woken up to find himself blindfolded and in a place he'd never been. It makes him feel more like the psychotic college student everyone made him out to be. 

Thinking wasn't the only thing he grew to hate, though; the solitude drove him up a wall, too. Tao was usually a lone wolf at home, yes, but at least he had Sehun to argue with or Panda to steal cuddles from when he got lonely. There were crowds to get lost in, people to be around whether they wanted him there or not. No matter how he looked at it, there was always someone there. 

But not anymore. If he thought he was alone before, he was far from realizing just how many people and animals and things that made him feel like a person that wasn't drowning in his own mind. The loneliness of the basement made him realize the true meaning of "alone", a conecpt he realizes he hadn't really known until now, until his only companions were himself, his thoughts, the barred window, and the rickety light shining dimly above the chipped wooden chair. 

At the current moment, said light is only a speck of faded yellow against the dreary ceiling of the concrete room. He's finally successfully battled another one of his episodes -- another name for his thoughts becoming a bit too much for him to handle -- and is completely drained, but not drained enough to ignore the faint sound of footsteps heading towards his little prison. A sinking feeling settles in his gut for a brief second, thinking that maybe it's Henry or Eunhyuk coming to "take care of the trash", yet after a quick shakes of his head, he dismisses it. They hadn't come for him since he was brought here, so why would they bother with him now? 

He gazes in curiosity at the door when the footsteps stop directly in front of the basement's only entrance and exit, a fact he knows only because of the outline of feet blocking any light from entering from the crack made between the door's bottom and the ground. A quick pause ensues, and moments later, the cringy sound of the ancient door hinges fills his ears. A figure, an unfamiliar one, waltzes into the room with light toes. 

The figure clicks the door shut behind him as he creeps his way further into the four-walled cell, and only when he steps more into outskirts of the light can Tao pick apart any distinctive features. For one, the man, as he so discovers, is tall but lean with broad enough shoulders to land a plane. His jaw is defined, though not nearly as much as Kris or Sehun, and he can faintly make out the semblance of a smile on plush lips and eyes turned up in half moons. 

"Hi! My name's Jongin. There's no need to introduce yourself, though; I already know who you are. There's no way I couldn't when you're the talk of the clan -- or at least what's left of it," the starnger's voice is deep yet childlike, deliberately soft -- almost as if he doesn't want to be heard even though Tao is the only one around for miles.  

It's when he plops himself smack dab in front of Tao's slumped carcass that he can make out anything beyond his physique and build. He finds that their skin is similar in hue, the man's a slightly lighter caramel color. His hair is a mess of dark brown locks strewn every which way, and his eyes are the color of mocha: sweet, innocent, and irresistible. His body is fitted in an old tee and a pair of holey jeans, and his feet are snug inside a pair of squeaky-clean, expensive-looking sneakers. Despite the two of them looking to be the same age, Tao feels slightly older as he stares at the giddy, beaming boy bouncing in his seat on the cold floor. 

Tao and Jongin simply stare at each other for well over a while, neither saying a words until Jongin sighs. 

"You know, you're not as cute as they say you are. You're more scary-looking than the kitten I was imagining." 

What?

Was this kid serious? He wasn't cute? Who the hell cared whether or not he was cute? Jongin must be stupid. He has to be stupid. No person in their right mind would risk coming down to the basment -- where a hostage is being held mind you -- to see if he was cute. 

But then he's proven right that yes, Jongin is naively stupid, and yes, the kid actually came down here on his own free will to check Tao out. 

"I'm not supposed to be here. Only the higher-ups are allowed into the basement. I had to sneak my way past the guards to sneak a peak at you. Oh! And I noticed that you're human, too. Are you a Chosen?" he pauses expecting an answer, only he doesn't wait long enough for Tao to even detach his lips from one another. "Well, maybe not considering I wasn't thrown into the basement when I came, and I'm a Chosen. I didn't think we needed more anyways. There are more than enough for the little amount we have to feed. Then again, they do drink quite a bit. And often. Maybe that's why you're here. Don't worry. Being a Chosen isn't so bad. They feed us, and we have our own rooms. We have chores in the morning and attend to them only when asked; the rest of the time can be spent doing whatever we want." 

There's some slight shuffling as Jongin scrambles behind himself in the silence of the room. It takes a minute of him mumbling to himself before he fully turns back around, a tray that Tao hadn't even noticed him carrying sitting in his hands with a sandwich, a bowl of crudely cut fruits, and a bottle of water resting nicely on top of it. Had he walked in with that? But why did he even care? Food is food is food. He hasn't eaten in what feels like forever, and he can honestly care a lot less about whether or not Jongin has magical food conjuring powers.  

"I brought you something to eat. I haven't seen Henry or Eunhyuk or anyone at all come down here for a really long time, so I figured they haven't been feeding you. I made it myself. The others tell me it's the only thing I can make that doesn't taste like death and destruction. I don't think my cooking is so bad, but maybe that's just me. Is it just me? I don't know. They also tell me I'm a bit of an oddball. I don't think I agree with them, though. I think I'm just optimistic. Who knows? Do you think I'm odd?" 

For the first time since his solitude was interupted today, Tao opens his mouth to speak and actualy manages to get his words out before Jongin starts rambling again.

"I think you talk too much," he says with a sigh as he sits up and pulls the tray closer to pick out a bright red strawberry he's been eyeing since the food was set in front of him.

"Talk too much? I do?"

"Yes, you do."

"Is it annoying? Should I stop talking?" 

He has half a mind to tell him yes, he should stop talking and just leave before he gets the both of them in more trouble than they need, but he decides against it. Jongin may be a motor mouth, but he seems like nice company, something he didn't realized he missed until he was thrown into solitude. 

"No, it's not that annoying, and no, don't stop talking. Actually, ramble all you want; I don't mind. It's nice hearing nonsense after being stuck down here with nightmares." 

Jongin spares him a confused glance, one that can't help but make him think that Jongin looks very innocent. He clearly has no idea what the hell Tao is talking about, but that makes him glad. It means that he can talk to him like he would to Sehun (or Kris. Probably more Kris than Sehun, since he doesn't ever violently cuss at the former like he does with the latter), comfortably and without fear. 

"In that case, I'll come down whenever I can and talk to you, okay? Does that sound fine to you? I can bring you food, too. And maybe a book or two? Do you like books? I like books a lot. I have two bookshelves in my room filled with novels, and they're all mine. You can hide a few in here to read if you ever get bored. It must be pretty awful sitting down here all by yourself, too. I don't like being alone. People say I act childish when I'm lonely, but how would they know if I'm alone? If I'm alone, no one is around, so how would they know? What about you? Are you lonely? Actually, that was a bit of a dumb question. Of course you're lonely sitting here with no one else all day, every day..."

As the food slowly but surely disappears from the tray, Jongin continues to talk and talk and talk, but Tao finds that he doesn't mind listening to his mindless babbling. He doesn't make a move to interrupt, not when he's got a stomach to fill, yet he feels that it's okay that he stay quiet. Simply hearing a voice that isn't his eases his eases his worries and his loneliness. It reminds him of how much he and Sehun would constantly bicker, seriously and teasingly, and of how much he misses rambling -- much like Jongin is doing now -- with Kris every other day. 

He even misss his one-sided conversations with his cat, his chubby little kitty that secretly hates him. Goodness he's losing his mind in here. 

But that's when the feeling really gets to him -- that feling of wanting to be no place but home. 

Disgusting as it is, he misses the small apartment with the tainted couch that Sehun and Luhan love to make out on. He longs for his feather soft blankets and cloud-like pillows; he longs for a mattress, dammit. He would give to go back to cramming at one in the morning for an exam he hadn't bothered to study for the day before it went down. He misses driving himself crazy with equations, enough that he sang them as he walked around the house. He misses the dates and the hugs and the cafe and Kris and Kris and Kris. He misses home.

"You're crying. Are you okay? Why are you crying?" Jongin says, shocked by the tears falling down Tao's cheeks.

"It's nothing. Dont worry about it," Tao responds as he wipes his face to get rid of the salty droplets. He hadn't even noticed his eyes leaking. 

"No one cries over nothing, you know. That's what my hyung tells me whenever I'm upset." 

There's a pause as he chokes on a sob that itches to climb out of his throat before he speaks again.

"You're right. It's not nothing. Missing home is not nothing. I don't want to be here in this basment, being punished. I just want to go home."

He doesn't protest, when Jongin scoops him into a tight hug. He allows him to take the half-eaten sandwich from his hands and place it back onto tray, where the bowl of fruits lays forgotten. 

"It's okay. Sometimes, I miss home, too. I have to stay here now, but I'm positive you'll go back home, Tao. Bait is meant to lure, right? Someone will come to get you, won't they? That may not be a very good example, actually. But that's not the point; the point is that someone, whoever, will come to rescue you. I have no idea when that might be, but I don't think it'll be very long. You'll go home, Tao. I know you will."

After that, Jongin, who he's come to realize is quite the chatterbox, surprisingly doesn't squeak a word, opting to rhythmically pat Tao's back instead. Minus the faint buzzing of the overhead light, it's pindrop silent as Tao rests his head on Jongin's shoulder, careful not to smear his snotty nose on the other's shirt. In a way, he almost feels at home in China with his parents, where his mother would hug him whenever he cried and kiss him 'til he hated it, and his father would ruffle his hair and give him big bear hugs when he's upset. It only serves to make him cry harder, because will he ever get to see them again? He's bait. When he fished with his father, the bait got eaten, swallowed by the fish and never seen again. He didn't want that to be him; it couldn't be him. 

Tao doesn't know how long they stay like that, him bawling his eyes out while being swaddled in Jongin's arms, but eventually, they hear the guards speaking outside the door, doing their routine check on the lone prisoner like they were ordered to do by the two in charge. 

Jongin quickly collects the leftover food onto the tray, picking up every strawberry top Tao haphhazardly threw onto the floor and dusting the breadcrumbs into a corner so as not to leave any evidence that there had been someone other than the normal trio. Before he stands to make his exit, he turns back to his new, sobbing friend once more and offers as comforting of a smile he can manage.

"I promise to come back and talk. I'll bring more food and water next time, and I'll stay as long as I can. I promise that I'll be your friend until someone comes to rescue you," 

With that, Jongin sends a small wave his way before he opens the creaky door with the old hinges and leaves. Once again, Tao is left alone to his thoughts, a form of torture he never realized was torture. 

Sooner than he he can blink, the buzzing of his mind fills the silence like thousands of wasps flying and stinging every nerve they can find, and he curls further into himself. He hates this. He feels like he's actually going insane. He wants to go home. He doesn't want to be here. He's tired of thinking. 

He's so tired, he doesn't hear the door hinges creak for the third time that day. And that this time, it isn't the kind Jongin with food and water, but the two he's come to despise over the course of however long he's been stuck in the confines of the four walls of this ing basement. 

And when they unlock the cuff and drag him to the chair in the middle of the room, he can't find it within himself to care. 

He's got his thoughts to keep him occupied. 

Shorter chapter because I had this typed already and I wanted to go ahead and post it ^^