The first thing that he noticed when he blearily opened his eyes was the sharp pain shooting like a starburst from his shoulders outward and down his arms and upper chest.

The second thing he noticed with choking panic, largely due to the first, was that his wrists were tied to a metal beam above him. There was just enough rope for him to stand on his feet without putting even more strain on his shoulders.

His eyes widened in terror as he tried to take in his unfamiliar surroundings.

White lights illuminated the room, reflecting off of the polished chrome counters, cupboards, appliances, and pots and pans swaying almost imperceptibly from their hooks. It was a kitchen, that much was clear, and a high end one at that. The room was immaculate, ghostly almost in its apparent lack of imperfections.

A small step stool, probably used to reach the higher shelves judging from its position against the counter, caught his eye. He reached out with his left leg and tried to pull the stool over to him. Too far.

His muscles shook as he pulled himself up so that his feet were off the ground.  He narrowed his eyes and gripped the beam above him in his hands. Panting, sweat began to drip down his skin making his shirt stick to him despite the cool air blowing in through the air conditioning vents. He started swinging his legs back and forth, steadily increasing his momentum.

He yelled as the pain in his arms intensified with the effort of holding him up after however long he’d been standing there with his arms above his head. Sweat stung his eyes as it dripped down his forehead, and he wanted so badly just to be able to wipe it off.  He smiled as his foot caught on the stool. A loud screeching sound echoed around the room as the legs of the stool dragged across the black floor tiles.

He cringed, hoping desperately that none of his unknown captors would come to investigate the noise.

The stool clattered against the counter as he positioned it underneath him. Once it was in place he gingerly lowered himself, his arms throbbing in protest. He stifled a laugh as he brought his hands together above the beam and began unknotting them now that he had enough free rope to maneuver.

A sense of urgency prickled down his spine and he hurried. His wrists were sore and red from where he’d scratched the rope over them repeatedly. It was a complicated knot, expertly done even, and it was damn near impossible to undo. He bit back a shout of impatience and at last pulled his arms free.

He just barely suppressed the giddy laughter threatening to burst out of him as he turned and jumped down from the stool.

However, his happiness at having escaped was short lived.

“That was impressive,” a smooth voice said from behind him. He spun around instantly tense and ready to defend himself. There were two guys with their arms crossed over their chests leaning casually against the island in the middle of the kitchen. He’d been so focused on what he was doing that he hadn’t even heard them enter.  They looked to be about in their early twenties, both tanned and noticeably muscular. He might have even found them attractive if not for the fact that they were apparently holding him prisoner.

“Maybe,” the slightly shorter one conceded with a disinterested shrug. “Where are our manners? I’m Taeyang and this is Daesung. What’s your name?”

The need to escape while he had the chance almost made him race out the door regardless of the menacing muscles that Taeyang and Daesung had, but he paused. His body froze as he tried to think, to remember what his name was.

He had a name; he knew he did. Everyone had a name damn it!

He roughly brushed the hair falling into his eyes out of the way with a shaking hand. He felt nauseous and faint as his mind reeled. Try as he might, he couldn’t remember anything before waking up. His brain suddenly felt like someone was attacking it with a pick axe. Desperately he reached out. The world tilted dangerously. He groaned hoarsely as he slumped to the floor.

He heard voices but couldn’t make out what they were saying. His ears felt stuffed and everything sounded muffled. Through his blurred vision he saw two worried sets of eyes watching him as he fell back against the cool black tiles on the floor. He had the brief thought that the lights were like stars in the dark ceiling before everything faded.

*****

The second time he woke up was decidedly different than the first.

Soft sheets brushed over his bare skin. He panicked for a second until he peered under the beige sheets and saw that he was still wearing his boxers. A cool washcloth was draped over his neck. Sunlight shined through the window. The sounds of seagulls cawing and waves sloshing fluttered in the air. His head ached viciously, and he was surprised to feel a bandage right above his left eye.

“Looks like Sleeping Beauty is finally awake,” a man said as he came bustling in the door. He was also well tanned and muscular. His white cotton pants and red short sleeved shirt clung to him distractingly. “We were starting to get worried; you’ve been out for hours. That’s a nasty head wound you have there.” The man gently peeled back the bandage and frowned.

“Who are you? Where am I?” he choked out in a raspy voice.

The man tsked in disapproval and handed him a glass of water from the bedside table. “I’m Seungri, the resident doctor and chef.  You’re on the Big Bang,” he stated with a bored expression. “The real question here is who are you?”

He gulped the water down gratefully, not even caring when some dribbled down his chin and onto his chest. He handed the empty glass back to Seungri, and he tried once again to remember.

Pain exploded in his head almost instantly. He cried out and pressed the heels of his palms to his temple. The wound ached as he pressed against it, and he focused on that instead. Gradually the pressure in his skull dulled and faded, still there in the back of his mind but not nearly as unbearable.

He flopped back against the pillows with an angry huff. “I don’t know who I am! I don’t know anything. H-how can I not remember?” Tears of frustration pricked at his eyes.

He flinched as he felt prodding fingers wiping something cool on his gash. “I don’t know how you got hurt, but I think that your lack of memories is due to your injury.” Seungri pulled out a square patch of white gauze and medical tape and carefully covered the wound. “I don’t want you to try to force yourself to remember though; it’s obviously making it worse.”

“So what? I’m just supposed to stay wherever the hell this place is and not think?” he shouted.

Seungri sighed heavily. “We’re on the Big Bang, I already told you that.”

“And what the is that?”

“A pirate ship,” Seungri stated calmly as he brushed imaginary dirt from his fingernails.

He laughed in disbelief. “Bull. This is the 21^st century; pirates don’t exist anymore.”

Seungri rolled his eyes. “Who are you to decide what exists in this world and what doesn’t? There are things out here that you’d never even imagine.” He stood and walked to the door, tossing away the old bandage in the garbage can on his way. He paused in the doorway. “Get some rest.”

“Where are you going?” he asked even as his eyes suddenly grew very tired.

“I need to tell the Captain about your situation. Maybe I’ll take you to see him if you’re feeling better later. Now sleep.” The door clicked quietly as Seungri left the room.

Instantly he felt his body fall into the peaceful oblivion of sleep. Even as he dreamed he thought he heard Seungri’s voice whispering through his head.

There are things out here that you’d never even imagine.