Sensory deprivation, of any kind, was said to supposedly amplify every other sense. He’d never really given much thought to this claim, so he was unsure whether he believed it or not. But now, with no sight, his body held still and his limbs locked down tight, there was no doubt in Seunghyun’s mind that he absolutely believed. This was an extremely successful method of psychological torture.

Meditation would be forever out of his reach, if he ever got out of there.

With his eyesight completely blocked off, the rapper’s perception of time had become warped. He had no way of knowing how long he’d been at his current location, though his mind told him it couldn’t be more than a few hours. To his body, on the other hand, it felt like he had already spent a lifetime there, immobile in his involuntary seat.

As if having his eyesight occluded wasn’t bad enough, the room he was being held in was almost completely quiet. Silent as a tomb. The only sounds he could hear were the blood rushing in his ear drums, his own stilted breathing, and the quiet rasping sound his clothing made every time he moved. It was . . . unpleasant, to say the least.

To keep his mind occupied, and hopefully maintain his sanity just that much longer, he kept going over his brief encounter with his kidnapper. Even without being able to see the man, Seunghyun recognized his voice. He frowned, the shifting of his facial muscles causing the cloth tied around his face to graze lightly across his skin.

Of course, his effective blindness heightened his tactile sensibility, making it feel as if thousands upon thousands of coarse bristles were dragging across his flesh to leave it raw and tender.

It hurt, and derailed his thoughts, the over-stimulation scattering them like so many birds.

Except he knew, in all actuality, that it didn’t cause real pain. It was only his mind trying to compensate for almost total lack of two senses. Instinct and survival was all it boiled down to, and Seunghyun hated it. He didn’t have time for his body to start betraying him already. Mental deterioration had to wait.

Full of determination, the rapper forced his thoughts back to the voice. He knew, without a doubt, that he’d heard it before. And not only once. He heard it regularly enough that it had momentarily confused him when his captor had begun speaking to him, back when he’d first woken up. Even though the man’s voice was as average as Seunghyun’s was extraordinary, there was something about it that tugged at his memory.

Where had he heard it before?!

Frustration threatened to override the calm he’d managed to order himself into. His thin digits clenched on the armrests beneath them, the sudden constriction to his fingertips making them feel too full of blood. As if the skin could tear at any moment and the precious red liquid inside would gush out to escape his body in endless torrents.

Ew. His own thoughts would drive him loony, at this rate.

Focus. He couldn’t allow idle observations become important enough to distract him. His attention went back to his kidnapper. He started going over his daily routine, particularly the tasks he completed and places he went to more than once in a while. It was at one of those places that he would figure out who had been speaking to him.

Not the studio, for sure. There were cameras and security personnel everywhere in the building. Maybe he worked at the convenience store? That was out too however, since the employees he saw there during the day were usually teenaged girls. Where? Who, exactly, was this guy? Seunghyun had apparently interacted with him enough to make him believe he’d been amorously led on and subsequently rejected.

A frustrated sound escaped his lips, echoing piercingly loud. It assaulted his eardrums, and he imagined it felt as if mice with pickaxes had decided to march up and down the nerve endings inside his ear canals. The unexpected magnitude of the sudden noise after hours of nearly absolute silence startled him so much that Seunghyun’s body jerked.

The restraints bit into his skin through his clothes, the fabric sliding and bunching at random places. It burned; feeling like scalding hot iron had been sewn into the material when he wasn’t paying attention. He wanted, desperately, to pat himself down and remove the miniature sources of discomfort. The burning sensation swiftly changed to a persistent itch. One that he was helpless against.

It was maddening.

Seunghyun knew it was all in his head, but there was nothing he could do about it. He’d been effectively rendered powerless. He had to distract himself from the phantom things his body thought it was feeling, otherwise he would go insane. But, how could he do that?

What in the world could he occupy his mind with that could block out the unwanted, imagined sensations? Then, in a bright flash of sparkling light, the answer came to him. It was so perfect and easy, he felt ashamed he didn’t think of it immediately.

Jiyong.

The small, fiery man who had effectively stolen his heart and kept it hoarded tight in his greedy little fingers. He could just see the animated dragon scolding him for getting careless, then stuffing him as full of comfort food as he could handle.

He pictured them lazing around in bed all day, ignoring both cell phones and pretending the world outside didn't exist, if only for a few hours. There were days he remembered hiding out in either his or Jiyong's house, avoiding anything work or music related. Anything that meant publicity or media, any kind of exposure to their already insane fans. Concentrating only on each other and how their hands slotted together so absurdly easily, as if they'd been fashioned from puzzle piece molds.

Seunghyun's fingers twitched as his imagination took a different, much steamier turn. He saw his hands sliding under a soft shirt to caress smooth, creamy skin. The same skin his exhibitionist little boyfriend showed off at the most random moments, usually resulting in spontaneous combustion and heart attacks within the ranks of their devoted fans.

In the wake of his hands, he could picture his mouth following to kiss and bite, leaving little red marks of possession. For whatever reason, Jiyong loved being marked; and it never failed to leave the younger rock-hard and begging. And it never made a difference if it was or in the middle of the main event. His reaction to the taller male branding his flesh were always pronounced. Loud.

He wanted to continue with his fantasizing so badly, he could feel himself stir uncomfortably in his pants, but the sound of a key sliding into a lock made his blood run cold. His skin felt dry, as if only just noticing that his surroundings were abnormally cold, shrinking against his bones.

A doorknob turned, and there was a sudden rush of heated air teasing the back of his head. Then, the door closed and the warmth was gone. That warm air had brought him no relief; instead, the difference in temperature had scorched his neck and the tops of his ears. Its abrupt departure left his skin feeling almost sunburned and unpleasantly hypersensitive.

“I do hope you're comfortable, Seunghyun-sshi,” that damnably familiar voice had returned. He could hear a faint, mocking undercurrent in it, so he made no effort to respond. Besides, the man's voice was so loud, Seunghyun could feel tears of pain converging beneath his eyelids. The sound had entered, bursting through his eardrums and careening around his head.

He couldn't stand it.

Unlike when he'd first woken up, the rapper made no attempt to track his captures movements. Not that he needed to try. Every step, every shift of coarse cloth on sweaty skin seemed amplified, pulsing against his own flesh in waves. The rapper imagined the air molecules shifting, bouncing off each other and the four walls to converge in the middle of the room. Every barrage of sound almost a needle piercing any available area of his body.

The man kept walking around him again, an overwhelming scent assaulting his nose. He could have sworn it smelled like outside and sunlight. Then his sinuses began to burn and it seemed to smell like iron. Is my nose bleeding? His upper lip twitched, the phantom sensation of wet warmth oozing down felt almost too real.

It was gone the next second.

Seunghyun had been so caught up in his sensory hallucinations, he failed to keep his mind on what was being said to him, until-

“ARE YOU LISTENING TO ME?!” There were suddenly burning hot irons clamped around his throat, searing his skin off and constricting his airwaves. He imagined it made the pressure in his head rise, and it would soon pop like a balloon. Blood and bone and gray matter and cranial fluid would drip down his ruined face.

He could almost feel likes spreading down his skin from his scalp, mapping out the best direction. The path of least resistance.

Then, the pressure was gone. His lungs demanded oxygen so he relaxed his diaphragm and allowed the air pressing down on him to enter his body. There was a strong urge to cough, but he murdered it with some pickaxes he filched from his ear mice. A rushing sound filled his eardrums, and he wondered why the ocean was there. Did it get kidnapped too?

That was when his brain decided to shut down. The cascade of stimulation had strained his psyche very nearly to the point off collapsed. Seunghyun escaped into his mind, unaware of anything else.

- - - - - - - - - -

AN

Short chapter, but I think I might be nearing the end? Hopefully only a few more chapters.

Also, I'm making all this up! I know that blocking off one or multiple senses will enhance the others, but I don't know how long it takes. I also don't know how long it takes for people to start hallucinating, either. As for meditation, I read that blocking sight and sound helps reach a meditative state, so that's why I put that there. Anyways. Yeah.

Until next chapter, enjoy!