#johnny seo x malereader
•summary: worst, pt.4
•pairing: johnny seo x male!reader
•word count: 7881
•to do
The sound of skin hitting leather resonates through the compound’s gym. Johnny grunts as he throws punches. He lands blow after blow on the punching bag. His eyes are harsh. Sharp and pointed in a way he hardly ever will let you see. Red and black boxing gloves adorn his hands. He arrived from his last “trip” about thirteen hours ago. Something happened when he was there, though he won’t tell you anything about it. At least he won’t for a while.
Your eyes travel from his arms down to his shoulders. His muscles tense and twitch with every movement he makes. Veins pop and pulse under his skin. Beads of sweat drip down his back. You’re upset that something happened to him, of course, but you can’t help but watch appreciatively. You’re openly gawking at him. The way he moves, the way he looks, everything. He doesn’t notice you, far too engrossed and concentrated in his training to see or care. Not that he would care if he did see.
The punching slows after a while. His heavy breathing becomes much more apparent. He lets his shoulders drop. His head rolls back, eyes closed. He waits there for a second before ripping one of his gloves off. He chugs a water bottle next to him as he walks over to you. Your smile makes some of his exhaustion subside. He holds his still-gloved hand out to you and you take it off for him. He reaches into his bag. You watch as Johnny pulls out a pair of gloves you recognize as the ones he bought for you a few months ago. Just the coloring on them makes you groan. He grabs your hands and slowly starts to slide your gloves on your fingers, ignoring the frown showing up on your face. He lifts your chin and kisses you softly.
“Don’t whine.”
Your pout deepens. Your head bumps against his stomach as your shoulders slump forward. He rolls his eyes at you but still lets you have your moment and slowly drags his fingers through your hair.
“I need you to be able to fight if someone tries something with you.”
“I wouldn’t do anything!” You collapse in the chair you sit on, sliding down.
He pulls you up. You slump over to the center of the room with him. He puts on a set of training mitts. He holds his hands out, waiting for you to start.
You let your head hang and try to look at him with sympathetic eyes. “I’m sore.”
He knocks your head lightly. He’s got a smirk playing on his lips, playing with you. “That doesn’t stop other things.”
You roll your eyes. You huff and shuffle closer to him. He squints down at you. You’ve still got a dramatic pout and resemble a kicked puppy as you protest and procrastinate everything happening. He watches you go through the stages you always do. Utter sadness, then contemplation while you rock up on your toes, looking at him with big doe eyes. He steels himself against your gaze, but a part of his heart still melts. You can see the bargaining in his eyes, already beginning to smile before he can speak.
“Fifteen minutes of training.”
You rock up and kiss his chin. The final stage, reluctant acceptance and a cute smile coming out. You ready your stance and holds your fists up. Johnny calls out different stances and punches. He criticizes your form with every punch and block. Almost immediately you run out of breath. Sweat forms on your skin. Johnny’s harsh inspection makes you nervous. He doesn’t hold back with anyone, even his boyfriend. He pushes you further and further, forcing you to pay attention. All of your focus is on the task in front of you, something that happens once in a blue moon. The look in your eyes reflects that.
You’re sweating harder now. Drops roll off your hair and fall onto your face. You flick your head back for a second, breathing deeply. You eye Johnny up and down. He can see you’re tired but knows how much you can truly handle.
Fluorescent lights shine and pulse down on you. Johnny holds his hands up in defense, blocking your hands effortlessly. You punch at his hands and hook up. Even you don’t know what you were trying to aim at. He half-steps back before you come close to his face. You swing helplessly at the air before Johnny reaches up to thump your head with his glove.
You glare at him and hold your fist up. You swing again. You try to punch quickly but Johnny blocks each one like he’s swatting a fly. Your hands fall down and you feel too tired to do anything more than look up at him. The slightest bit of something hidden is evident in his eyes.
“You-”
Your knees start to give out and you collapse to the ground. You lean on your hands for a few seconds before flailing back completely, laying with your arms and legs straight out on the concrete of the gym. Johnny watches your shoulders heave up and down. He takes the training gloves off. He sets an open water bottle by your head. You look at him through lidded eyes.
He looks down at you. “You lasted forty minutes.”
You make a noise of dissatisfaction, disliking him heavily for pushing you more than fifteen minutes. You yank the water bottle over to you and gulp it down clumsily with still-glove hands. You lay on the ground for a while. The room smells of heat and sweat and some remnants of anger from hours-ago Johnny. The fan hanging from the ceiling rotates endlessly but doesn’t do much to cool you down. You fall back onto the ground. Johnny sits next to you. He takes great care as he takes your gloves off. He massages your hands and moves down each of your fingers, then moves up to your shoulders. He takes his time until your breathing slows.
He leans over and tilts your chin up. The tips of his fingers delicately move down your jawline. “You fought for almost fifty-seven minutes last time, why not this time?”
“I’m tired.” Your eyes drift closed. “I don’t sleep well when you’re gone, you know that.”
“I just think you’re being lazy.” His fingers move along your neck.
He smirks as you shudder, his fingers holding your head still. Your eyes stay closed until you feel a light tug at the hair on the base of your neck. He leans down over you. The hand in your hair remains there. His other pushes flat against the floor beside your head. He moves to straddle your waist and leans down.
He kisses from the edge of your lips to your jaw. He pulls your hair again, just the slightest bit harder than he did before. Then he moves his hand down to your shoulder and chest. He pulls at the bottom edge of your shirt before lifting it over your head. You shiver against his cold fingers. You can feel a smirk against your neck. He pushes your arms to lay above your head and kisses across your neck and down your throat. His hand moves down to your waist, thumb slipping under your waistband. His nails scrape against your skin and you stretch up. He pinches your side. Your shirt lays a foot above you, hair sweaty and disheveled from his hands.
He leans right above your face, humming until your eyes open and latch onto his.
“Let’s,” He drags his eyes down your body before leaning down to hover his lips over yours. He bites down on your bottom lip before patting your waist, pulling at your waistband as he pulls his hand away. “Let’s go take a shower before I have to go to my next job.”
You nod, probably a bit quicker than you should. He stands and you scamper behind him. He grabs your things before walking directly to you, scooping you up to throw you over his shoulder.
*
Your right hand twitches in your jacket pocket. You swallow the bubble forming in your throat. The cold air chips against your skin and you hop it conceals your shaking hands. You grip the device and breathe out. You try to remember everything Johnny has taught you.
Breathe.
No sudden movements.
Don’t let them know you see them.
Stayed in crowded areas.
Call him.
One of those rules has already been broken. The heavy snow that has been falling for the entire morning keeps most of the people from the busy street. You pass open shops that have nobody but employees inside and street carts with only vendors staying around.
How many of them are there? You’re trying desperately to think like Johnny would. Three. At least. one is five foot away. The others are probably ten.
One stops at a sunglass stand for a whole two seconds. Another pretends to scroll on his phone, but you’re sure his thumb never touches the screen. The last doesn’t bother pretending. He just walks forward, following you without breaking.
You click on the app Johnny forced you to download. You pretended to be upset about it at the time but you appreciated his worry and thought it would be helpful. It’s not anything special, simply something Mark made when you began to be a bigger part in their lives. You push one of the buttons. The light goes green. An alert is sent to Johnny.
The only way to retract the alert, which is currently a mere “I may need help here” alarm, is to follow a specific set of instructions. Anything else or a simple mess up will send Johnny and the others boy a far more emergent “Get Here Now!” one.
As soon as the alert is set, Johnny’s icon appears. You put the phone to your ear.
“What’s going on?”
You can hear the garage doors of the compound rolling open. You bite your lip and breathe in.
Out.
In.
Out.
“Talk to me, sunshine, talk to me.” He clears his throat and grips the steering wheel. “How many?”
You put on a fake smile. Anyone who knows you could hear through the tone but hopefully the people behind you can’t hear it. “Yeah. I heard we were meeting at three. It might have changed to be closer to dinner, though.”
“Okay, okay. Stay on the phone.” Johnny weaves through traffic. He follows a preprogrammed boyfriend tracker. “Keep your head down.”
You grip your bag. You glance to the side, intending for it to look like you’re eyeing a shirt in a store window. “I’m a bit worried about my gift. I wonder if he’ll like it.”
Can he hear your heart pounding in your chest?
“I didn’t realize how close his birthday was. It was a bit of a panic buy.”
“You’ll be okay, love.” His voice is calm. You breathe a little easier but the twisting in your stomach doesn’t cease. “I’m almost there, I promise, then I can take you home, okay?”
You continue to walk, desperately searching for somewhere more populated. He continues to talk to you but all of his words of support go in one ear and out the other. Two people across the street jog in the opposite direction. You glance at them, but they don’t look anywhere close to you.
A fourth man is 100 feet ahead of you. Something in you twists and you know he’s apart of it. He begins to walk towards you. He strides with a very fast force towards you. You make darting eye contact with him before he pulls his eyes away.
“Johnny.” You pull your shoulders inward. You look to the side, searching every alleyway you pass for a way out.
With every step you take forward, every inch you move to the right or left, the man does the same.
“Love? Talk to me.”
The man picks up speed and you press another button on your phone. You can hear the alarm go through Johnny’s phone on the other end. The car engine purrs as he stomps on the gas.
“Sunshine, you have to talk to me. Say something.”
You brace yourself. You put on an uncomfortable smile. The man’s facial expression doesn’t shift as he continues to stomp in your direction. He bumps into your shoulder and continues walking.
You grunt at the hit but stay forward. He didn’t hit you that hard, it shouldn’t have hurt that bad, for a few fleeting seconds you think you’re simply being dramatic. You can’t see the man that hit you anymore. The three behind you are still on the same path but maybe it’s not as bad as it seems. The seriousness of the situation could just be a figment of your imagination.
Those thoughts are very quickly dispersed as your shoulder starts to burn. Johnny hears you hiss through the speaker. Your vision begins to blur soon after. You stumble to the side, bumping against the brick building beside you.
“John-ny…?”
“One minute. One minute. Stay still. I will be there in one minute, I swear.”
“He poked me…” You drop your bag and slump further down. “Something… numb.”
“One minute.” He repeats those two words over and over.
“Johnny-”
Johnny can hear fumbling through the receiver. He hears a harsh thump. His heart leaps into his throat. “Y/N? Sunshine?”
The line cuts out. He bangs the phone against the steering wheel. He casts the phone aside. He’s pushing the top speed his car can handle and is willing every car in his way to move or risk being moved.
He reaches your last-known destination in record time. He storms through the walkways and alleys, frightening every innocent soul in a three-mile radius. He spots a blinking-red phone on the ground, half buried in snow. His heart sinks. He makes his way to it, looking left and right for any sight of you or anyone shady.
You didn’t tell him what you were shopping for, but he can see his favorite chocolate, a small poster, and a board game you and Ten were talking about a few days earlier. He kneels down. His stony façade is long gone. He grits his teeth and pulls at his hair, sending an explanation text to Mark. A few of the guys finally meet Johnny up town. They clear the area and collect everything they can.
Johnny watches and re-watches the CCTV footage you were last seen on. There’s not much he can do from obsessing over the footage, Mark began running facial recognition of everyone in your area when the second alarm came through. Johnny walks to Taeyong. Taeyong, the ever imposing, squints at passersby as small minutemen explain the situation and what they’re doing about it. He doesn’t spare a glance at his right-hand man and Johnny is forever grateful. Despite how staggering and formidable the two normally are, Taeyong is the only one figure retaining that image. Johnny feels all too small in the moment, knowing he was just seconds behind saving you.
Your voice, his name being the last thing you said, replays endlessly. The sound compels him to square his shoulders.
He turns to his best-friend. They make cruel, ruthless eye contact, as Johnny states, dripping venom hotter than the sun. “Tear the city apart.”
*
Mark clears his throat. He stands in the threshold of the gym. Johnny doesn’t stop pummeling the punching bag in front of him. He can see where you normally sit, watching him with wide and awestruck eyes. The spot is empty now. The room feels too small. His chest feels hollow, his knees are about to buckle, the world around him is spinning, collapsing in on him with every second you’re not in front of him.
Mark finally breaks through the invisible barrier blocking the room. He clears his throat again. Johnny lands his final punch on the pretend hooded and masked creatures that took you.
Mark’s lips are pressed into a thin line as he speaks. “I thought you would want to hear the update.”
Johnny’s face is blank. No rage. No sadness. Nothing. Mark has known him long enough to know it’s all charade. Beneath the hard exterior he’s all feeling. A whirlwind of emotion and turmoil bubbling just under the surface. He doesn’t acknowledge what Mark says but walk the winding way to conference room. Mark sits at the front of the room, a small laptop positioned at the edge of the table. Taeyong sits at the head chair. He wears an expression impossible to read. He waits two seconds for Johnny to sit, but when Johnny makes it apparent he doesn’t plan to stay long, Taeyong stands.
“Twenty-nine hours have passed since the alert came through.” He starts. He looks at Johnny. His face does not twitch.
Taeyong mentioned your name at a meeting the night before. Johnny almost immediately blew up. He gripped the table and shut every word anyone said out. He yelled and punched everything he came across.
Taeyong isn’t eager to see that again.
So, he doesn’t say your name. “We have not yet narrowed down his location. But in a much deeper search of the CCTV footage of the surrounding 20 blocks, we found this.”
That’s Mark’s cue and he pulls up footage of a black van in an alleyway. Four men pile out of the side door, and just as a fifth closes it from the inside, Johnny sees it. His eyebrow twitches. He inches closer.
“That man,” Taeyong points and the camera zooms in. A man leans out of the van. In just two frames of the footage, the man’s bandana covering the bottom half of his face slips off, revealing a full face. “Is Wong Yukhei, also known as Lucas. When we ran facial recognition on him, we came to the realization that he was pretending to be-”
“His neighbor.” Johnny mutters the words. He feels far too out of breath to say it any louder. “He lives on the same floor- I’ve ridden in the elevator with him- He’s one of the ones that took-?”
Johnny’s jaw clenches. Bile stirs in his stomach and vomit threatens to spoil out. His vision starts to blur. Just as the world around him becomes overcome with red, Taeyong brings him back.
Taeyong leans on his palms. He looks Johnny directly in his eyes. “Johnny. This was a route he took frequently. They knew where the cameras were, hey planned this for a long time, but they still made a mistake. They made one mistake. They’ll make another. And we will capitalize on every second of it.”
Johnny shakes his head. He rolls his eyes and grips the table. “Great. We know what he looks like. We know he had a fake apartment where he could see Y/N every day. He was there, Taeyong! He was there every day and I had no clue about any of it! He was right there the entire time.”
Taeyong opens his mouth but Johnny rolls his eyes and continues.
“Wow! Yeah, we know that much. What is that going to do, Taeyong?”
Taeyong sighs. “We know his name. We have his face. We looked into the apartment he stayed at and have his alias. We’re scouring every database, every camera in the country, every mention of any names attached to him. We will find Lucas. Then we find his friends. We narrow down who these three are, and continue down that path until Y/N is in front of us.”
“I recognize you’re upset but we have to think of this like any other case. Both of us know it’s not, but we need to have clear heads.”
Johnny and Taeyong stare at each other for a few seconds. The air surrounding them is tense. Everyone else in the room is forced to stew in the uncomfortable silence while the two stand off.
“You have my word, Johnny.” Taeyong’s eyes don’t waver. “We will find him.”
*
Some minion acting way above his paygrade pulls your head back. He wraps his fingers in your hair and yanks your head until your face is pointed towards the ceiling. He forces eye contact, but through your blurred vision and black eyes you can’t make out any details. Not that you will need them. Your chest heaves. You’re breathing sounds ragged and rough. An intermittent screech rings in your left ear. You’re almost thankful for the hand holding it up as you don’t believe you would have the strength to do so on your own.
The man smacks you. He squints, lowering his face to hover three inches from your face. His breath is appalling. “Tell me what you know.”
You muster just enough strength to roll your eyes. He scoffs before wrapping his free hand around your throat.
“Give us the information and we might let you live.”
Your mouth feels so dry. Your head is aching. He’s squeezing your throat and blocking your airway but wants you to form sentences? You manage to gasp out a few words. “You think they tell me anything?”
He tilts your head back. His hand is clenching tighter. “You have to.”
You gasp and fight against the binds holding you. Black spots swim in your vision and your eyes begin to flutter closed. “N-n-”
“Then I guess you’ll die here.”
He lets you go. You gasp and cough, tears you didn’t know were pooling spill over your cheeks. The last thing you see before passing out completely is the man’s fist traveling towards your face.
*
Johnny kicks over a kitchen chair in Lucas’ fake apartment. It only has the bare essentials. A small bed. No TV. Enough food for two weeks. Johnny’s anger festers stronger and stronger as he watches people combing every square inch of the apartment for fingerprints and evidence. Two people looking through the apartment begin to talk. They talk about their personal lives and things that are so trivial and stupid and the hate he feels for the world finally tips over.
He punches the wall next to the door. The whole apartment comes to a standstill. His knuckles are already beginning to bleed before he pulls his hand back.
He finds himself at your door before he can fully process it. The reality of how close the people who took you were to you sets in. He tries to ignore the hurt in his heart to no avail. He pulls his key out and steps into your apartment. People have already searched your apartment. He appointed Winwin to make sure nobody ruined your apartment. Johnny couldn’t stand being there with so many others.
The lights in the hallway and your room are on. Your TV would still be on if Win didn’t shut it off when he came. Johnny flips on the rest of the lights as he walks through. You like every light available to you to be on. You open the blinds as soon as you wake and try to remember to close them the night after but more often than not Johnny closes them when he gets home.
Johnny remembers when he first met you. You would sit in the small sun rays in the hospital room for hours. He’s gotten into the habit of making sure every room you’re in has a window or two.
His fingers trail on the edge of one of your bookshelves. You recently reorganized your entire store-worth stock of books and he hasn’t figured out what system you used to do it. The only books he knows aren’t in their specific places are from your All Time Favorites shelf. You took two of them down before his last job. You stuck one in your bag and put another by your bedside table. Both of them were very frequent re-reads. You read them whenever you’re bored or overwhelmed or upset or when you need comfort or simply because you want to.
If he notices you in a rut or when he comes back from a long trip, he’ll grab one of the more worn copies and read you to sleep. He doesn’t find as much pleasure in reading as you do. Reading for himself is never a choice he makes. Reading to you, however, makes him much happier than he’s ever told you.
He would give anything to be able to read you to sleep tonight.
He travels further, walking to the kitchen. The smell of the burnt meal you tried to make four days ago has finally dissipated. All he sees in the home is you. He sees you sitting upside down on the couch and your phone falling on your face. Sees you hunched over a printed-out recipe with an expression that fills Johnny with concern for the building’s fire-resistance abilities. You standing on the bed and pacing back and forth with a book he bought you that you didn’t put down for days, even after two read throughs. He can smell the shampoo you use, hear your laugh, the music you play too loud through headphones or blast through speakers until Johnny comes home and worries someone will complain. He can feel your cold feet pressed against his legs and hands slithering under his shirt, your hair tickling his chin as you hug him as hard as you can every time he comes home.
Everything is you. You. You.
The world around him spins. He steadies himself against your counter, blocking out the negative thoughts of what he could have done differently or what is happening to you now.
From the corner of his eye, he can see a small succulent you bought weeks before. You wracked your brain for three days trying to think of a name. You finally chose “Sunny.” He remembers you watering him the night before everything happened. You love the thing. Johnny doesn’t know how to care for it, but thinks the least he can do is move it closer to the windowsill next to the sink and sprinkle it with some water.
Someone knocks on the door.
He grits his teeth.
He leaves every light on as he walks out.
*
Water drips from your hair. It hits your knees and rolls down. You retch forward as another bucket of water is poured on your head. You’re barely holding back what feels like gallons of water in your stomach from exploding out of you. You collapse in the chair, pulling against the restraints holding you back. A man in front of you holds another bucket. Someone behind you is filling two more buckets they’ve been rotating through. You’re not sure how long they’ve been doing this.
The rope holding your left leg feels loose. Something in your brain snaps. After a short haze of ideas, you kick out. You land two decent hits on the man’s leg, leaving large bruises on his shins. Your toes begin to throb immediately after. The man curses and dumps the water on your body in his hastiness. Your body is shaking very bad. Partially because of the pain you’re in but also because of how cold the room is. What’s left of your clothing is fully soaked. Your teeth chatter as the main interrogator asks you the same question he’s asked hundreds of times already.
You have the same answer. Complete silence. You look forward with dead eyes.
The cold cuts right through your bones, chopping what’s left of your psyche in a thousand pieces. The man tilts your chin up. Tiredness flows through your veins. You can barely hold your eyes open. Just doing that means the rest of your body falls forward in a slump. You hold your breath, waiting for another bucket of water to swamp your face.
Instead, hushed words are aimed at the man filling the buckets. He turns the water off and nods.
The one previously waterboarding you for answers steps out of the room. The cramped area goes silent, bar your haggard breathing. The lackey guards the door like you could even escape as a fully capable person. Without something to concentrate and fight against, your mind begins to race once more. The room is dim, it almost feels pitch black to how you typically like the world.
How many days have passed is a never answered question, when the last time you ate, or drank, or saw Johnny, or slept, or breathed without pain are thoughts you cannot bare to bring to the forefront of your mind. A year and four months has passed since you met Johnny when he blocked you from falling flat on the ground in the van the first time you were taken. There being a first or a second time is another thought you don’t want to think of.
No one ever tells you anything about their workings. You don’t mind it, honestly. It’s probably a good thing, you think, as your wrists ache from rope burn, because you’re not sure if you would have made it this long in silence if you did know something. It’s hard to think if anyone would be upset at you for that or not.
Johnny shields you from their “work” with poise. He knows just the right answers to your questions to satiate the curiousness without sharing anything that could damage you. Hell, you don’t even know where he is half the time. He goes out on “jobs” or “trips” and comes back with cuts and bruises, sometimes perfectly normal, or sometimes needing to sleep for four days straight before being able to be a functional human again. You’re never told locations, names, information, why he’s going there, when he’s coming back.
It worried you. Of course. You barely sleep when he’s gone and fret over how dangerous it is for him to disappear for so long, but you can’t shouldn’t don’t want to know any more information than necessary. Mark’s number is saved in your phone for when your mind races too far and you want to know if your boyfriend will come back to you. He gives you more information than he probably should sometimes. But he mostly just says how far away Johnny is, when he should be back, and confirming to you that your boyfriend is still alive. They both say you would be the first to know if something detrimental happened but part of you doesn’t believe that.
Before this happened, Johnny mentioned moving you. He wanted to move you to a safehouse he and the boys “own” closer to the compound, in a smaller city. He asked if you could officially live together too. Even though he already spends every second he’s in town in your bed already. The idea sounded great to you. The execution of that plan scared you. Moving away from the area you’ve grown to love in the two years you’ve lived there? That wasn’t the most exciting idea for you.
Now, as you stare at the flickering fluorescent lights and dripping tiles of the room around you, Johnny could move you to another planet and you would be ecstatic about it.
“He doesn’t know anything!” You can hear the water-pourer’s voice outside of the cell.
Someone flings the door open. A man with a sharp jawline and hooded eyes pushes the guard aside. Before he steps foot in the room, he eyes you up and down. He examines you before moving inside. He circles around your chair, a sneer permanently etched on his face.
He stops his pacing after two round trips, planting his feet square in front of you. You don’t move. Your body is too numb and worn to react.
“I’ve done everything.” The interrogator speaks from the doorway. “He’s telling the truth.”
The one in front of you, presumably the boss, kneels down. He looks up at your face for a second before standing again. “If he doesn’t know anything then we just got ourselves into a lot of trouble for no reward.”
He turns and jabs his pointer finger into the pourer’s chest. He stands a full-head taller than the interrogator. “You were the one that chose him. You were the one who orchestrated this whole thing. And when his boys show up up at our door, believe me, I’ll be sure to tell them just that.”
“Get something out of him, or both of you will be here waiting when they show up.”
*
A goon wordlessly places a gun in Johnny’s hand. Johnny loads it, cocking it back before slipping it into its holster. His eyes are narrowed in on the map on the wall. Mark printed out a layout of the building you are supposed to be inside. Winwin was planted in when they traced the kidnappers back. He couldn’t find the specific room, but the wing you should be in is circled in bright-red ink.
There’s a picture of you next to the map with a list of your features, the clothes you were wearing, and how to approach you if someone besides Johnny finds you. You’re smiling in the picture, a weird boxy smile that’s over-exaggerated, smile-lines around your mostly-closed eyes. Your nose is scrunched. Johnny can hear the sound of your laughter bubbling out of you after he snaps the photo.
He breathes in and out, pushing down the tornado in his stomach. He’s forced to look away from your smiling face when Taeyong enters the room. He doesn’t speak, simply nods, and let’s Johnny take the lead.
The growling of your stomach resonates off the concrete walls. Your eyes open and close slowly. Your skin is pulled taut against your bones. Bruises decorate your body. Your clothes are just tatters, flesh more visible than cloth, your skin is sickly and pale. Your body looks feeble. Brittle. Almost like a strong wind would blow you away. The cold room is too quiet. Thoughts of what else will happen in the small rooms crowds your head. You slump in the seat unable to hold yourself up. Your arms stretch out as far as they can behind you, too tired to keep yourself up or care about the pain in your shoulders and wrists.
Johnny stomps through the building. In any other situation, a bit more grace would be called for, but with you on his mind, all Johnny can manage to do is stampede. With the way the minions react when he walks through, the less graceful and infinitely terrifying method seems to be working. Most of the defense the compound has runs away scared as the group walks through, the less intelligent ones staying to be easily taken down.
Johnny follows his small map, being flanked by other soldiers beside him. He gets to the hallway you’re supposed to be in. Originally it was thought it would be a difficult to find where you were positioned. However, the naivety and newness of whoever these people are shows as Johnny rounds the corner and sees four guards outside a large metal door. No other doors, even those to the vault or the control room, had any doors, much less four of them.
Each of the men are holding weapons of their own. All of them are aimed down the hall Johnny’s heading down. Johnny tears through them without any hesitation. The guards don’t have a chance to pull their triggers before they fall to the ground. Johnny kicks open the door and sees you.
You’re tied to a chair facing towards the door. Your chin is flush against your bare chest. Your arms are torqued behind your body in a way that visibly feels so uncomfortable. Your eyes are closed. Johnny can’t see your chest move as you breathe and his heart clenches in his chest. He takes a step back, recovering quickly to spring into action. He cuts the rope holding you in place. You fall forward and don’t open your eyes. He holds you in his lap, desperately trying to get your limp body to react in any way.
“Get Jaehyun!” Johnny yells at the ones he was with. He rubs your chest and holds your face. “Sunshine, hey, come on.”
He checks for a pulse. Weak but still there. He lays you flat on your back. Your eyelids are half closed. Eyes rolled back in your head. Blood pools under your body. Johnny needs to find the source of the bleeding and try to get you stable but he can’t handle looking at anything but your face.
“Open your eyes. Please. Please, sunshine, you have to talk to me.”
Two pairs of footsteps can be heard running down the hallway, followed by two more pairs, heavier but less-rushed. Jaehyun can be seen moments later. He pushes Johnny’s hands away and sets to work on you. Taeyong pulls Johnny out of the room. Johnny can just see Jaehyun lean down to listen to your breathing before Jaehyun’s two assistants that were following him block his view.
Johnny fights against Taeyong’s hold. “Let me-”
“You can’t help right now. Jaehyun needs to fix him before you can go in there.”
“Taeyong!”
Taeyong grips his shoulders. “You’ll just get in the way, Johnny. I’m sorry. I’m sorry, but you need to stay here until Jaehyun can wake him up. You shouldn’t see him like that.”
“He has to be okay, Tae- He- I can’t- I have to help. I have to do something.” Johnny falls to his knees. His breath feels stuck in his chest. His head hangs low. “Please.”
Taeyong turns his head, unable to handle looking at his friend in this way. Your hand is just visible between the bodies of people trying to help you. It lays limp against the concrete. Taeyong can see blood on the ground. Some pools are already dried over, others still damp, or still forming. Taeyong’s heart feels heavy in his chest. He stands with Johnny, his hand resting on Johnny’s shoulder, while Jaehyun works on you. Johnny’s whole body shakes as he sits there, waiting for you to call out for him or fall into his lap with a bug hug. Instead his heart pounds in his ears and his thoughts are clouded with how far he let you down. Johnny can’t tell if he’s crying.
A stretcher is wheeled in after a few agonizing minutes. You’re pushed past Johnny. An oxygen mask adorns your face. Your breathing is more visible but you’re still laying with closed eyes and a limp body. All color is drained from your body. Blood is still coming from somewhere despite your upper torso being bandaged. He’s dragged away from staring by Jaehyun.
“He’s alive, Johnny, but his pulse is still weak. He needs a lot of help, help I don’t think I can give him, so we’re going somewhere near by.” Jaehyun nods his head and runs after you, yelling out words to the other people.
Johnny breathes in and out. He slowly begins to gather his bearings. He recovers a lot slower than he should but he can’t muster the courage or the strength to do much else. He finally begins to stand and starts to move after you.
He gets to the cars as they load you into an ambulance. Taeyong catches up with him and grabs a pair of keys. “I’ll drive. Let’s go.”
*
You’re laying flat on your back when you come to. Whatever you’re laying on is much softer and more comfortable that the chair or concrete you were sanctioned to before. Your eyes are bleary. It takes too long for them to adjust to your surroundings. When they finally do, the all-too familiar look of a hospital room is obvious. But, instead of the sterile and bleak look you’re used to, this room has plastic stars stuck to the ceiling. They shine lightly but you like the change. You can see more lights from the corners of your eyes.
Night lights.
Johnny turns them on when you have nightmares.
You turn your head. You ignore the panging pain in your neck and search for him. He lays on a cot pushed next to your bed. It stands roughly half a foot below your hospital bed. His hand dangles on the edge of your bed, palm facing up. His fingers twitch and you reach out. You strain against the movement, groaning quietly. Your hand falls on top of his and Johnny jerks awake. He snatches the blanket off his legs and darts his eyes around the room. His gaze falls on you and he gasps. He grips your hand tightly and sits up, moving over to sit halfway on your bed and half on his. You grimace at his hold on you. Despite your best efforts to stifle it, he catches it.
“Sorry,” He moves up the bed. He leans down, lightly touching your cheek. He looks over every centimeter of your face. Tears begin to appear in his eyes. “Hey, Sunshine.”
Your voice is hoarse as you try to speak. “You-”
Johnny turns to grab one of the multiple glasses of water he has set up, only removing one of his hands from you. He holds the glass to your lips. You take a slow drink and blink slowly.
“Night-lights.” You state. Your eyes feel heavy but you don’t want to go back to sleep just yet. “Thank you.”
“You don’t like when rooms are bare, I needed to do something for you.”
“How long?” You ask. Your voice is still rough, it grates against your ears and sounds foreign, like the water didn’t help at all.
He grabs a pillow, stuffing it behind your back and helps you sit up. He frets for a few seconds before feeling okay in his answer. “We found you three days ago. You’ve been in and out since. You wouldn’t open your eyes. You made noise though. It sounded like you were arguing with someone in your dream.”
You blink at his words. You almost still seem unconscious. Johnny scoots you over, moving to sit next to you on the small bed. You lean into him and he holds you close. Johnny can feel your shoulders stutter and shake. He hears you sniffle a few times before you turn your head and begin to sob into his chest. You cry against his chest for a while. It’s a harsh cry. Violent and absolutely awful to hear. Johnny’s tears reappear in his eyes. He lets you cry for as long as you need, though he does begin to worry about you dehydrating next to him.
You finally begin to calm down. Your breathing slows. Johnny rubs your back. He stays in silence with you until you’re comfortable enough and ready to speak again.
“Can we live together? Will you move somewhere else with me?” It feels like a childish question to ask, but you don’t know what else to do.
Johnny kisses your forehead and nods. “We’re moving together and I’m not going to let you out of my sight for a long time. And you might get a bodyguard if I ever have to go anywhere.”
“I think I may be okay with that.”
Johnny can’t help but smile at you. “I’m sorry this happened to you. None of the things that have happened to you would have if it wasn’t for me.”
“I also wouldn’t be in love if it weren’t for you.” Your hand grips Johnny’s shirt, clinging to the very thought of him. “None of this was my fault. None of this was your fault. It was nobody’s fault but the ones in the van.”
“And what’s left of them is being handled as we speak.” Johnny mumbles. He rubs your back and moves his hand to brush your hair from your face. “I don’t want you to worry about anything for a long, long time.”
“How long can you stay?”
“I’m taking a leave of absence from my trips.” Johnny answers with what he hopes is enough of an answer.
It isn’t.
You tilt your head up. The movement hurts, Johnny can see it in your eyes. Every tiny movement or look is worlds of pain for you. You’ve never been great at lying.
“You like going, though. You like to help Taeyong and the boys out.”
Johnny leans so close to you, the tip of his nose brushes against yours. You become hyper-aware of the last time you brushed your teeth or took a shower. “I like you, your safety, your well-being, and your piece of mind, much more than anything else in this world. I hated leaving you before this happened anyway, this is just giving me an extra push to take a break.
You smile. Your eyes are still sunk in, the bags under your eyes haven’t fully disappeared yet, but the color has returned to your face. You’re just as bright as you were before. Johnny’s light-house in a restless sea. You yawn and push your head down, finding your spot underneath his chin. Johnny never would have imagined having someone like you. Someone that could make everything that was so important to him before seem like child’s play. You’re pressed against his chest. You’re breathing is even. You’re safe in his arms. He doesn’t want to move away from this spot and will do anything he can to keep it this way. Working for Taeyong and with Taeyong has been the most important thing in his life for a while, but a year with you and a possible lifetime with you is enough to get him to contemplate giving it all up.
You would hate if he told you that. You don’t want to do anything to cause any rife with him, but Johnny doesn’t want to be any part of the reason you’re in a hospital bed or why you’re worried about staying alone in your own apartment. Screw it if Taeyong becomes upset about him leaving the life or people call him soft behind his back. He needs you to be safe. Even if ten years down the line you’re with someone else and doing something much different in your life, you need to be okay.
For now, Johnny will keep you in the hospital bed, even when he knows you’ll protest in the morning and want to go exploring despite everyone telling you that you need to stay still.
And Johnny will put up a front for a while but eventually relent and place you in a wheelchair. He’ll push you to a spot with the largest windows and you’ll sit there for hours. He’ll let you lead him as far as you can go.
He’ll spend every waking moment with you until you’re healed. Then he’ll move you into an apartment in a different city, with bodyguards assigned to you, and a good alarm system.
And when you ask about his job down the line, he’ll tell you he’s made the completely-unrelated-to-you decision to finally give up that life, and you’ll grow tired of having to spend every living second with him.
