Sitting on a weathered wooden bench in the bustling cafeteria, Taehyung found himself entranced by your presence. As he absentmindedly licked his lips, he couldn't shake the dry feeling that had suddenly crept over him, a reaction that startled him in the midst of his usual indifference.
"What are you doing?" Jimin's voice broke through his reverie as he slid onto the seat beside him, the familiar sound of crinkling wrappers announcing his arrival. He pulled out two oversized breakfast sandwiches from his backpack, the warm aroma mingling with the cacophony of chatter around them.
"That girl..." Taehyung mumbled, his voice barely above a whisper. His gaze was laser-focused on you, every subtle movement you made drawing him in like a moth to a flame. His expression darkened, the intensity of his stare resembling that of a predator watching its prey, completely captivated by your every action.
"The new girl? What about her?" Jimin questioned, a hint of boredom lacing his voice as he took a hefty bite of one of his sandwiches. He chewed slowly, savoring the taste as he eyed Taehyung with a teasing grin. "Don't tell me that she's caught your eye. I thought you were gay?"
Taehyung shot a glare at Jimin, his irritation flaring unexpectedly. Jimin's mischievous grin widened, his cheeks stuffed full as he awkwardly attempted to swallow. The banter between them was familiar, yet Taehyung couldn't shake the rising turmoil inside him.
Silence enveloped Taehyung as he turned his focus back to you. Something inexplicable was taking root in his chest. Just days prior, he had witnessed the way you looked at Jungkook, a mix of lust and curiosity that set off some primal instinct within him. It ignited a desire to be the one to receive such attention from you, to capture your gaze with the same intensity.
You were everything he found alluring: intelligent, confident, and unafraid to challenge the status quo. You possessed a magnetic aura of rebellion that sent a thrill down his spine. The sight of you biting your full bottom lip when approached by someone unfamiliar, or the way your fingers absentmindedly toyed with your lip ring, intoxicated him in a way he couldn't articulate. It left him teetering on the brink of losing his composure, and he found himself fervently hoping for that outcome.
"By the way," Jimin's playful smirk returned, noting Taehyung's distracted demeanor. His eyes danced with mischief as he surveyed the cafeteria. "You're not the only one who's taken notice. Looks like you've got some competition over there."
Taehyung followed Jimin's gaze across the room, his heart tightening as he spotted Mingyu casually half-leaning against a wall, his eyes fixated on you like you were the only thing that mattered. You were blissfully unaware, sipping on a steaming cup of hot chocolate; simple joy radiated from you drove Taehyung's jealousy into overdrive.
_
Not far from Taehyung's table, Naeun mirrored his curiosity, her eyes glued to you with a mix of envy and frustration. After the other girl who had previously cared for Jungkook finally exited the picture, Naeun had envisioned this moment. But now, with you here, it felt like a betrayal of sorts.
For two long years, Naeun dedicated herself to this prison and proved capable of handling the chaos that came with it. Weakness was never part of her lexicon. Yet here she stood, watching as Jin, the director, favored you over her, and she couldn't comprehend why.
She had only spent a mere week with Jungkook, which wasn't sufficient. She craved more time, an opportunity to unravel the mystery surrounding him, to dive deeper into the relationship they had begun. Her mind wandered back to the time she had intentionally delayed drugging him, a reckless gamble she now couldn't shake. She recalled the strange way he looked at her as if he was peering straight into her soul, igniting a fire she thought she could control.
Her heart raced at the memory of that night, each detail vivid in her mind: his smile, the way he touched her, and the warmth of his lips. It was an intoxicating memory that lingered far too long, overshadowing any rational thought.
But before she could indulge in those fantasies, she realized she had to eliminate the competition. You had to go-for good.
_
"Welcome, Y/N. How has your first week been? I hope you aren't feeling scared enough to consider leaving." The director, Jin, offered a warm smile as you entered his office, the weight of your new reality settling in.
You took a deep breath, feeling an unexpected mix of nerves and determination. "I must say, everything has definitely left an impression. But don't worry, I don't get scared easily. I'm not one to back down, and while Jungkook isn't as daunting as some might think, the other inmates worry me more."
Jin's expression shifted instantly; the warmth faded, replaced by a sudden seriousness. "Jungkook is dangerous, Y/N. Don't let his innocent facade fool you. Many before you have thought the same and-" he trailed off, his face grave. "They didn't end up well."
"What happened to the last girl?" you asked, your curiosity sparked, the words rushing out before you could restrain them.
"She was caught taking advantage of Jungkook's vulnerability," Jin explained, his voice heavy with caution. He leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers beneath his chin as if bracing for your reaction.
Your eyes widened in shock, the horrific implication sinking in. "And you're saying he's the dangerous one?" you retorted, disbelief coating your words.
"Just remember," Jin's voice was firm and brooding, "your primary responsibility is to keep him drugged. That is the one rule you must follow." He gestured to the door, the conversation evidently over.
_
"Who are you?" you murmured softly, settling beside him on his bed, the quiet cell enveloping you both. You had entered his space undetected, a thrill racing through you as you realized it had been two months since you first observed him. With each passing day, your fear diminished, even in the wake of warnings from those around you.
Reaching out, you gently placed your hand on his head, letting your fingers thread through his soft brown hair, marveling at how serene he looked while asleep. "You seem so innocent, so defenseless. Where are your parents? What could have led you to end up in a dark, foreboding place like this?"
"I will take care of you, I promise," I whispered softly, my fingers gliding gently through his hair, trying to offer him a semblance of comfort. The faint rhythm of his steady, shallow breaths filled the room, a haunting melody amidst the stillness.
As I watched him, his eyes slowly fluttered open. But instead of meeting mine, his gaze drifted into the void like a ship lost at sea. Those once vibrant eyes seemed to be mere shells, empty of recognition or emotion. Not a single word had escaped his lips since that fateful day we first met, and with each passing moment, it became painfully clear that he would never look into my eyes with understanding.
A heavy weight settled in my chest as I desperately wished for a glimpse of the person he used to be, the one who, I was more than sure, could smile and express joy before the drugs had taken hold of him. These medications were nothing more than a cruel means of dulling his mind, stripping away his awareness, and reducing him to a shadow of himself.
It pained me to think that he had no grasp of what was happening around him. He didn't know that I was here, sitting beside him, hoping with every fiber of my being that he could somehow sense my care for him. In truth, I feared he may not even be conscious of his own existence. Who was he now, trapped in this fog of pharmaceuticals?
A twinge of anxiety gnawed at my thoughts. What if I were to stop administering the drugs? Would the fog lift, revealing the man he once was? Could there be a moment when his eyes sparkled with recognition, and he would smile at me - a genuine smile? The idea both thrilled and terrified me. My heart raced at the thought of finally breaking through the barrier that separated us.
I had grown fond of him more than I ever anticipated. My heart ached for the pain he endured, for the life he was robbed of. I wanted to help him, to find a way to bring him back from this abyss that seemed to swallow him whole - but how could I?
And yet, lurking in the corners of my mind, a darker fear took root. What if, in reclaiming his consciousness, he turned out to be dangerous? What if the remaining fragments of his mind were filled with anger or confusion that could lead to violence? What if he tried to hurt me? The thought sent shivers down my spine, amplifying my internal conflict. I was caught in a web of compassion and fear, longing to save him while dreading what that might mean.