Jongin was going crazy, not the I can’t stop thinking about my past since I’m locked up in this basement crazy but the I’m one hundred percent sure I might rip my own wrists from these god damn ropes and then eat them starting with my fingers crazy.

He didn’t know what time it was, the constant darkness feeling like a never ending cycle of dusk. He didn’t know how long he has been in a corner, knees tucked into himself as he knocked his forehead against the wall. Maybe if he slammed hard enough he could make a small opening, or give himself a concussion. He didn’t mind either option.

“Hey, don’t do that,” Jongin jumped at the sound, a hand reaching out to cup Jongin’s forehead and pull him backwards.

His back hit the floor with a loud smack, Jongin’s head lolling in a daze. “It’s only day three and you’re already losing your mind?” there was a laugh and then the same hand sliding behind the nape of his neck to raise him up into a sitting position. “Thinking of giving up.”

It wasn’t a question and Jongin wheezed. “No,”

“Interesting.” The man murmured. He circled around Jongin, his footsteps soft and swift, he was amused and Jongin was exhausted. The bland meals everyday were already taking a toll on him.

By feeding time, the man that frequently checked up on him was force feeding him. Jongin’s blindfold still rubbing on his irritated eyelids painfully, his mouth slacked open, swallowing a gulp of water without even thinking. He wondered if he could drown in it.

“Everyone’s already impressed with you,” The other man started to say, his hand pressed against the small of Jongin’s back, fingers running through his sweaty hair as he (purposely) spilled water down Jongin’s neck. “It’s so quiet down here, Jjong was already screaming by the second day, had to knock him out before hyung shot him in the mouth.” He chuckled, Jongin not really listening with the way his head thrummed. “It’ll pass though, your body’s just freaking out, you have to stay calm, newbie.”

Jongin coughed a reply, he felt exhausted, like he hasn’t slept in weeks. No matter how he felt though, this was probably better than the initiation in his old house. He remembered the fear in people’s eyes, the way his brothers never hesitated to hit, to hurt them. He was too young to participate, but he will never forget the screams, the shots, the way Xiumin covered his eyes when no one was looking.

“How’s it like here,” Jongin breathed, eyes blinking behind his blindfold, inhaling loudly.  He smelled like bleach.

He stayed quiet for a second, hands stopping the motion on his scalp, Jongin unconsciously whining and pressing his head onto his hand. “Tough,” he started out slowly. “But nice, it’s a lot better than living on the streets.”

Jongin hummed, mouth opening to taste whatever he was giving him. Stale bread. “You smell like bleach.”

The man laughed, chest shaking with mirth. “Well, that’s ‘cause I bleached my hair.”

“Why?”

“Because I want to?” He snorted, Jongin heard him rip another piece of bread before hitting his lips with it. “I like the bleach look.”

Jongin hummed again, chewing slowly. He felt like sleeping, the other man’s hand feeling so solid behind him. He felt comfortable, the way he spoke, the gentleness of his touches. He was nice, Jongin could tell.

“You’re nice,” Jongin said before he could stop himself, not that he would want to at this point. He felt delirious, he didn’t care what he said anymore.

The other man laughed again, unconsciously pressing Jongin closer. “Not really.”

“Then I’m just special.”

Jongin took another bite.

“I guess you can say that,” He was still chuckling. “Now let’s move you, my arm is starting to hurt.”

Jongin groaned, shaking his as head as he moved forward to plop his head on the other man instead.

“Ah, , you’re heavy!” He shouted and flailed backwards. Jongin felt him fall against the floor loudly, the other man groaning against his hair. “What the .”

Jongin didn’t even try to apologize, his body bending at an odd angle.

“, that ing hurt, you .” He seethed, shoving Jongin to the side with too much power, knocking Jongin’s head against a wall.

“Ow,”

“You deserved it.”

Jongin grumbled, his head throbbing. “Yeah.”

“You’re a little ,” The man turned Jongin to his back, his fingers pushing their way through the hairs on the back of his head; a small soothing gesture to the dull pain the he felt. “You didn’t hurt yourself too hard, did you?”

“Kind of hurts,” Jongin his lips, they’re so dry. “I’m not sure honestly.”

He slapped Jongin’s cheeks lightly. “You’re not going to get a concussion are you? I feel like I’m slowly losing you.”

Jongin cleared his throat, reaching his hand out to palm against the humid air behind his back. “Nah,” He took a deep breath. “Tell me a story.”

“I’ve lost him.”

“Something short, I don’t care.” Jongin wiggled his fingers. “What’s your name?”

“Uh,” He paused. “They call me Min.”

Jongin smiled. “Minnie, like the mouse.”

“I/ve killed people who thought they could call me that.” Min dropped his voice to a serious tone.

“Interesting.” Jongin shrugged, Min’s hand was still behind his head, fingertips rubbing small circles against his scalp. He could fall asleep like this.

“I could kill you too, right here, right now. No one would even know, could shoot a bullet right through the middle of your forehead without you even noticing.”

“Probably,” Jongin agreed, but for some odd reason; he felt safe, like the words coming out of Min’s mouth was more bark than bite. “I have nothing to live for anyway.”

The rubbing stopped for a second, before it started again. Jongin hummed with content. “We all have something to live for, we just have to find it.”

Jongin thought of Junmyeon for a moment, the heartbreak in the other’s eyes plunging an emotion through him he hadn’t felt in a long time. Guilt. He felt so guilty.

“I guess you’re right.”

“I am,” Min brought Jongin up to a sitting position. “You’ll be fine, kid. We’re too young to be this hurt.”

Jongin made a small noise of acknowledgment, slowly sliding down onto his back.

“Oh, no, you’re not sleeping on me.” Min rolled him to his side. “What if you really got a concussion?”

“Jus’ a wall.” Jongin mumbled. “Not a concussion, jus’ tired.” He nudged the other’s hand with his head again, Min getting the hint and running his fingers through Jongin’s bangs gently. “Feels nice.”

“Okay, okay, whatever. Fall asleep. I don’t care, it’s your funeral.”

“Cool,” Jongin shuts his eyes, the soft brush of skin against his forehead lulling him to a dreamless sleep.

--------

Jongin wakes up with a start, a cool hand place against the back of his neck shaking him from his sleep.

“You’ve been asleep for thirteen hours, I’m just making sure you aren’t dead yet.”

“Oh,” Jongin blinked. Has he really been asleep for thirteen hours?

“I have breakfast for you, it’s already day four, how are you feeling?”

“Uh,” He tried to think for a moment, his brain still groggy with sleep.

Min laughed, pulling Jongin up until he was sitting down. “You’re so ing quiet it’s freaking me out.”

“Still half asleep, kind of.” Jongin mumbled more to himself than the other man.

Min shook his head. “Well, eat up, you’re more than halfway done. You need all the energy you can get if you want to pass a few more days of this.”

Jongin groaned, already opening to his mouth to whatever tasteless food they were going to feed him today.

“Such a good boy for me,” Min cooed, a hand rubbing Jongin’s jaw lovingly. If it was anyone else, he would have been livid, he would have threw punches on the spot, but there was something about him that made Jongin feel relaxed; calm.

He didn’t know if it was just circumstance, if Min being the only person who actually treated him like a person tricked him into this false sense of security, but it felt nice. He felt cared for, whatever that even meant.

Jongin closed his mouth around a spoon when it carefully slid inside his mouth. Cereal. Finally. Jongin crooned at the taste.

“Do you like it? This is actually my breakfast, but I feel like you deserve a little treat for good behavior.” Min smiled, spooning Jongin another serving into his mouth.

Jongin chewed slowly. “So good.”

“I hope you enjoy it, I had to eat your disgusting bowl of watered down oatmeal, with fruit of course, I’m not an animal.” There was no real malice in his voice, just a touch of amusement.

“Thank you,” Jongin said sincerely, trying to look at him through his blindfold.

There was a brief pause then a scoff. “Whatever, just eat it.”

And Jongin did, happily, Min pressing the palm of his hand back to the underside of Jongin’s neck. His hand felt so warm, Jongin was humming without even knowing.

“I even stole a slice of toast for you,” He scooted closer. “Show me your teeth, pretty boy.”

Jongin opened his mouth, baring them out just for show.

“So good,” he placed the toast between Jongin’s teeth. “It might be a little cold, sorry.”

Jongin shook his head, mumbling softly. “It’s good.”

“You’re so….pliant today.”

Jongin sniffed. “I’m always pliant.”

“But you’re, especially pliant.” Min ran his fingers through Jongin’s hair. Jongin really liked that.

“I’m a little tired.” And it wasn’t a lie, Jongin did feel sleepy. He felt relaxed, so, so, so calm. Like the craziness was finally ending, like his brain was the tips of accepting what was to come. Like he wasn’t scared anymore, not here, not right now.

Min stared at him thoughtfully, not that Jongin could see it anyway, the boy’s head lulling to the side. “I can tell, here let me move you.”

Jongin let himself be manhandled, turning the way Min wanted, laying his head down when he felt something sturdy behind him. Jongin hummed, he was being put on the makeshift bed Jongin couldn’t find.

“Looks like you haven’t used this at all,”

Jongin yawned. “I couldn't find it.”

“Did you even try?”

“Not really, I’m kind of blind right now, I would rather not go exploring.” Jongin shrugged, rolling to his side. He felt fingers go through his bangs again.

It was sad to say that Jongin was beginning to feel comfortable like this. He couldn’t see anything, he didn’t know where he was or who this gang was, but he was being taken cared of, kind of. Jongin hasn’t let someone comfort him like this since he was a kid. Sometimes even Junmyeon couldn’t touch him.

“You know, maybe I ca--,” A cell phone rang before he could finish, Jongin jumping from his position on the floor.

“Sir, yes, yes,” Min’s voice was stern, losing it’s soft tinge. “I am, yes. Okay, I will be there soon.”

Min hung up, Jongin could hear him move around. “I have to go, we have a. .  thing.”

Jongin nodded his head. “Of course, you’re not even supposed to be down here anyway.”

“Yeah. .” There was a sudden pause, Min shifting around the room quickly, almost like he was pacing. “You’re right, I’ll see you.”

And then he was gone.

When lunch rolled around, a plate was thrown on the ground. The jeering sound of “Eat up, Princess,” was heard from somewhere far away and then silence.

Min didn’t come.

The sound of silence was deafening. It hurt.

A few hours later a kiss would be placed against the skin of Jongin’s sweaty temple that will forever be unnoticed by only one. Jongin sleeping fitfully on the ground; A pair of eyes watching his chest rise and fall. Rise and fall. Rise and fall. . .

The silence was deafening.

It's been a year? Sorry? Does anyone still read taekai? Am I talking to the void rn? No one will ever know.