The silence 

It was 2 a.m. The dim light from the bedside lamp cast long shadows against the walls, barely enough to illuminate the figure lying motionless on the bed. Jeonghan was still sleeping, his body limp and fragile beneath the layers of blankets. The doctor's words echoed in Seungcheol's mind: "He's exhausted, his blood pressure's high, and that's why he fainted. He should be awake by morning."

But the sight of Jeonghan lying there, so still, so pale, and so broken, gnawed at Seungcheol in ways he couldn't understand. His lips were a faded shade of pink, void of any warmth, and his skin was cold to the touch. The nurses had cleaned him up, changed him into soft, warm clothes, but the vulnerability on Jeonghan's face, the way his body had given up, made something inside Seungcheol stir. something he hadn't expected to feel.

Seungcheol sat at the edge of the bed, his heart pounding in his chest. His clothes had been changed, the grime of the day's events washed away, but his mind was still racing. This wasn't the first time he'd taken someone against their will. He had done it countless times before, coldly, efficiently, without hesitation. and it will not be the last time either. But with Jeonghan... it was different. Why did it hurt to see him like this? Why was this pain so raw, so unbearable, when he had survived gunshots, betrayals, and countless battles in the world of mafia life?

Is it because Jeonghan is innocent? That thought lingered, taunting him. Jeonghan didn't belong here, in this world of blood and crime. His gentle demeanor, his soft voice, the kindness that seeped through every interaction, it wasn't something Seungcheol was accustomed to.

With a slow, hesitant movement, Seungcheol laid beside him on the bed. He kept a careful distance, but his hand reached out, trembling slightly, before gripping Jeonghan's limp hand. The softness of his skin was almost painful, like a reminder of how fragile this man was, how much he didn't belong in Seungcheol's ruthless world.

His breath was shallow, his heart hammering in his chest, as he stared at Jeonghan's pale face. His emotions churned, a dangerous mix of possessiveness and something darker, something deeper. Jeonghan was his, but in this moment, he was also the one thing Seungcheol couldn't control, couldn't fathom.

The first time I saw him... Seungcheol's mind wandered back to that day, the memory so vivid. Jeonghan had been sitting in front of his parents' grave, tears streaking down his face, vulnerable in a way Seungcheol had never seen before. There had been something so fascinating about that sight—so raw, so human, that it had caught him off guard. But now, seeing him like this, it was different.

Jeonghan wasn't just crying for his parents anymore; he was crying because of Seungcheol. His roots had been shaken to their core. Seungcheol was the cause of it all, the one who had turned Jeonghan's world upside down. And now, with Jeonghan lying unconscious in his bed, broken in a way Seungcheol didn't know how to fix, the weight of his actions crushed down on him.

Could he let Jeonghan go? Could he truly set him free, knowing it was for Jeonghan's happiness? The thought seemed impossible. He couldn't. Jeonghan had become something Seungcheol couldn't understand, something he couldn't name, but he knew he needed him. Desperately.

Jeonghan wasn't just a captive. He wasn't just a pawn. He had become Seungcheol's unknown need, something Seungcheol was too terrified to even admit to himself. The vulnerability that stirred in him was twisted, suffocating, and his mind wrestled with that darker side of him. The side that wanted to hold Jeonghan close, to cage him in, to make him his in ways that went beyond possession. But there was also a part of Seungcheol that felt a sickening ache when he looked at Jeonghan, realizing that he was the one who had caused all of this pain.

Exhaustion crept in slowly, and with a quiet groan, Seungcheol let himself collapse beside Jeonghan. His eyes were heavy, but he refused to close them. He couldn't tear himself away, couldn't leave Jeonghan, even as the world spun around him. The thought of letting go was impossible, so he held on instead, his grip tightening around Jeonghan's hand, as if he could somehow keep him tethered to this world, to him.

And as sleep finally overcame him, pulling him into darkness, the last thought in Seungcheol's mind was one of painful clarity. Jeonghan had become his world. And he would never let him go, not now, not ever.

---------------------------------------------------

The morning dawned with muted grace, the sun shyly peeking through the heavy gray clouds. The rain from the previous night lingered in droplets on the leaves and bushes, making the world appear as if it had been freshly washed clean. Yet, despite the serene beauty outside, the atmosphere within the Obsidian Mansion was colder than ever, an icy stillness gripping its every corner.

The mansion was eerily quiet; only the faint sounds of maids preparing breakfast echoed from the distant kitchen. Upstairs, in the grand bedroom where Jeonghan had been resting, his eyes fluttered open. The dim morning light filtered through the thick curtains, and the ache in his head was sharp, a relentless reminder of everything that had transpired.

His body felt drained—heavy with exhaustion and grief. It took a few moments for Jeonghan to fully grasp his surroundings. The unfamiliar room, the soft luxury of the bedding, and the sterile scent of medicine confirmed what he feared: he wasn't home.

The sight of the IV drip in his hand sent a pang of helplessness through him. When he turned his head slightly, his heart stuttered at the sight beside him. There lay Seungcheol, his head bandaged, his features unguarded and peaceful in sleep. His usual hard expression was gone, replaced by something vulnerable and childlike. For a moment, Jeonghan's chest tightened, concern stirring for the man he once thought he knew.

But reality hit like a blade to his heart. The memories came flooding back—the truth, the betrayal. The man who had once been his savior was the very architect of his suffering. Tears slid silently from the corners of Jeonghan's eyes as he stared at the ceiling, the weight of it all too much to bear.

When he tried to pull his hand free from Seungcheol's grip, he found it impossible. Seungcheol's hand, large and firm, held his in a grip that was unrelenting yet surprisingly gentle. Jeonghan tried again, his weak tug causing Seungcheol to stir slightly but not enough to wake him.

The door creaked open, breaking the stillness. Wonwoo entered with his usual calm demeanor, though his sharp eyes betrayed a flicker of concern. He approached the bed, his movements deliberate, his voice soft.

"How are you feeling, Jeonghan?" he asked, carefully removing the IV from Jeonghan's hand.

Jeonghan ignored the question, his voice trembling but resolute. "Take me to my room, Wonwoo."

Wonwoo glanced at the intertwined hands of the two men, a fleeting look of hesitation crossing his face. Instead of replying, he reached out and gently shook Seungcheol awake.

"Hyung," Wonwoo said firmly, "Jeonghan wants to go to his room."

Seungcheol blinked awake, his peaceful expression hardening into awareness. As his eyes met Jeonghan's, they softened, but the coldness in Jeonghan's gaze was like a physical blow. Without a word, Seungcheol rose, his movements stiff from exhaustion, and guided Jeonghan to stand. Their hands remained intertwined, though Jeonghan made no effort to hold his back.

The silence between them was suffocating. Seungcheol couldn't stand it, his voice breaking through the quiet as they walked. "Are you feeling better?" he asked, his tone unusually gentle.

Jeonghan said nothing, his eyes fixed straight ahead, refusing to meet Seungcheol's gaze.

The hallway felt endless, each step amplifying the tension. Seungcheol tried again, his voice firmer but tinged with worry. "I'll have breakfast sent to your room. You need to eat to regain your strength."

Jeonghan's silence was deafening, a void that terrified Seungcheol more than any gunshot or knife wound ever had. He swallowed hard, masking his fear with a steady tone. "Get some rest," he added as they reached Jeonghan's room. "I'll check on you later."

Jeonghan stepped inside without a word, his back to Seungcheol. For a moment, Seungcheol hesitated, his hand lingering on the doorframe. He wanted to say something—anything—but the lump in his throat made it impossible. He turned and walked away, each step heavier than the last.

Downstairs, the dining room was lively with conversation about business, the other members speaking as though nothing had happened the night before. Seungcheol sat at the table, his appetite nonexistent as he pushed his food around his plate. His mind was elsewhere, replaying the silence from Jeonghan over and over again.

Just as he was about to leave, Hoshi's voice cut through the room, sharp and direct.

"It was Daniel."

Seungcheol froze, his eyes narrowing. "What?"

Hoshi leaned back in his chair, his expression cold and calculating. "The CCTV shows his car entering the mansion and leaving shortly after. He's the one who told Jeonghan."

The temperature in the room seemed to drop further. Rage bubbled under Seungcheol's skin, his jaw tightening as he stood abruptly.

"That bastard," Seungcheol growled, his voice low and menacing. "He overstepped."

Without waiting for a response, he stormed toward his study, his steps echoing with purpose. His mind raced with the consequences Daniel would face for his betrayal. He had shattered what little hope Seungcheol had of repairing things with Jeonghan, and for that, he would pay.

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