A/N: The images are effing-up again. Go figure. So, hopefully what I just tried will work.

Jonghyun couldn’t remember the last time he had had such a bad panic attack. Usually, though, it was some small amount of paranoia that was easily fixed. This time it had been the result of slowly waking up, his head pounding, and a small reassurance that he had simply dreamed the events of the day before. He had felt the bed shift, and suddenly he was certain he was at home, in bed with Minho. He wiggled slightly, reaching out for the warm body he loved so much, but only being met with cool bedsheets. Had he imagined the movement?

He squirmed a little more, trying to get comfortable and slip back into a dream with Minho, but he nearly slipped off the bed. The hands that caught him didn’t seem familiar at all - they were too big to be Taemin or Key’s, and not soft enough to be his appa’s. And he knew they didn’t belong to Minho because...well, he just knew. He cracked his eyes open, taking in the unfamiliar room  with a sleepy expression until his eyes landed on Sangho. He moved quickly, then, to get out of his reach.

Everything came flooding back, and he tried to push out the hindering emotions he felt. He knew he needed to keep a cool head, or he might never find his way out. Sangho smiled at him, taking a seat on the bed and holding out a cordless house phone. The blonde-tipped youth’s eyes darted back and forth between the phone and the man holding it, trying to figure out what was going on. Was he offering him his own rescue? Somehow, Jonghyun found it in him to hope that maybe he was.

“Appa...?” Jonghyun whispered, his eyes locking on the phone as he tried to remember the phone number.

“Ani.” Sangho said, waving the phone from side to side. “Umma.”

“U-Umma?” Jonghyun asked, his eyes wide. Sangho nodded.

“She only gets one call per week. She’s been waiting to talk to you.” Sangho said. Jonghyun’s stomach clenched.

“A-ani.” He said, shaking his head. “I don’t want to talk to her.”

“Jonghyun, it’s ok.” Sangho said. “You’re not going to get in trouble.”

“I’m not worried about that.” Jonghyun said, his voice trembling softly. “I just don’t want to talk to her.”

“You don’t have to say that anymore. It’s gonna be ok, now. Just say hi. She misses you.” Sangho prompted. Jonghyun shook his head rapidly.

“Ani! I want my appa!” He shouted. Sangho’s face darkened, and he grabbed Jonghyun’s shirt, pulling him close.

“Your appa is dead.” Sangho said sharply. “He died when you were four. Talk to your umma.”

Jonghyun still couldn’t place a finger on what possessed him to do what he did next, but he was more than a little proud of himself - consequences be damned. He took the phone from Sangho with shaking fingers, and promptly pressed the red ‘end call’ button before dropping the phone on the bed. Sangho’s eyes widened, and he stared at the phone on the bed for a long time. His fist was still tightly curled in Jonghyun’s shirt, and when he finally looked back at the boy he had taken from school, he looked murderous.

Sangho tossed Jonghyun back on the bed, not hiding the look of satisfaction when Jonghyun’s head bonked off the headboard. He snatched the phone off the bed, turning to walk out, but stopping suddenly and looking at Jonghyun. Jonghyun managed to keep a mostly controlled mask over his features as Sangho looked him over, before finally smiling that creepy-kind smile of his.

“If you really want to play games, Jonghyun...I can play.” He said, smiling. “When’s the last time you ate something? Was it before your test yesterday morning?”

Jonghyun’s stomach let out a small whine, but his mouth remained firmly closed. Sangho laughed softly, his eyes going to Jonghyun’s cloth-covered abdomen.

“I’ll bring you some food.” Sangho said, and Jonghyun was instantly suspicious. It took Sangho a long moment to say the next part, but when he did Jonghyun felt his heart sink. “When you talk to your mother.”

The door shut tightly, and Jonghyun sat in stunned silence. Well, almost silence. His stomach had finally seemed to catch up with the situation, and it was making its displeasure known. Jonghyun knew nothing good would come of the situation he was in, and began immediately searching for a way out. It wasn’t long before he noticed a window, mostly hidden by the headboard of the bed he was still laying on. He listened hard for any signs that Sangho might be coming back, and when he heard a rush of water he recognized as a shower turning on, he took his chance.

He went to the window, struggling slightly with the lock before it opened - thankfully - silently. But then there was the screen, too, and he struggled with that for a moment before it slid open, though not without a small, obnoxious squeak. Jonghyun froze immediately, turning to look at the door, but there was no sign of Sangho, and so he began trying to squeeze his way between the bed and the wall. Unfortunately, he forgot to factor in the weight he had gained over the last six months, and very nearly got himself stuck.

He slid down the wall onto the floor, taking a minute to breath and listening to the sound of the shower running. He swallowed hard, then began slowly nudging the bed, trying to move it from the wall. When that didn’t work, he began pushing a little harder, and then even harder when it still wouldn’t move. He grunted from the effort, and he was breathing harder than he thought he would be from such a simple task. Was the freaking thing screwed into the floor? He gave another hard shove, and the bed finally, finally moved, but Jonghyun needed to take a breather. He glanced up at the door, panting softly as he checked to be sure that Sangho hadn’t caught on.

He nearly pissed himself when he saw the man in question standing in the doorway. He got up quickly, heading toward the window where he planned to make his escape, but Sangho got to him before he reached the window. He was caught by a fistful of his too-long hair, and he let out a small whimper as Sangho pulled him back toward the center of the room. How had he known? How had he gotten dressed so fast? And...why was his hair dry?

Jonghyun’s heart sank when he realized he had been set up. He fell right into the trap, and now his scalp was paying the price.

“You didn’t think I would let you get out that easily, did you?” Sangho asked, his tone mocking. “I have silent alarms all over this place. You can’t take a step without me knowing about it.”

“P-please...let me go...” Jonghyun pleaded. Sangho rolled his eyes.

“That would defeat the purpose of bringing you here in the first place.” He said, shaking his head. He couldn’t believe how unbearably stupid this child was. He had to have gotten it from his father. “It seems that I can’t trust you anymore, Jonghyun. What a shame.”

Jonghyun’s heart raced at those words. What was Sangho going to do now? He whimpered at the sharp tug on his hair, stumbling over his feet as he tried to move where Sangho wanted him to be. It didn’t seem like Sangho really had a set location for him - he was just playing with him. But Jonghyun wasn’t a toy, and all the tugging was bringing vicious tears to his eyes, and then spilling them down his cheeks.

Sangho didn’t seem to notice, and if he did notice, he certainly didn’t care. He all but dragged Jonghyun out into the living room, then through it to a door with a chain lock visible on it. Sangho pushed the door open wordlessly, then released Jonghyun’s hair in favor of grabbing his shoulders and pushing him inside. Jonghyun tripped, falling on the floor of the small room. From what he could see, which wasn’t much, it was nothing more than a large closet. No windows. No bed. Not even a light.

“You’ll have to just stay in there until I can trust you. You understand, right?” Sangho asked. His smile graced his face once more as he shut the door.

Jonghyun knew it was pointless to try to escape this time. He heard the chain sliding shut, and he knew that was the end of it. There was no way out. It would take a miracle, and Jonghyun wasn’t often on the receiving end of those. It really didn’t take long for the panic to swell from his chest, and outward to his limbs. He found himself breathing harder, and using various calming techniques in a desperate attempt to release the deathly tight grip his fear had on him, but no one had ever taught him the proper methods for staying calm while kidnapped, and he eventually just gave in, letting his anxiety run its course.

When the attack had finally grown tired of playing with his frayed nerves, he decided to try and sleep. Sleep would allow him to ignore the painful stomach cramps he hadn’t felt in months. Sleep would allow him to temporarily forget his messed up situation. Sleep would give him Minho, at least for a few hours. But, even as he lay on the uncomfortable floor and squeezed his eyes shut against the darkness, one question played over and over in his mind.

What had he done to deserve this?

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So, it’s Thursday night...Minho’s coming home on Friday...anyone wanna place any bets on how he’s going to react if they don’t find Jonghyun before he gets home?