Y/N x SEVENTEEN
~
I had always thought I would live out the rest of my days aging quietly and dying a mundane death. My life seemed devoid of surprises until I turned 23. Suddenly, I found myself entangled with businesses, gangs, and even dangerous...
The sun barely broke through the clouds that Sunday, casting a muted light across the room as you moved with purpose, determined to clean every corner of your apartment. Heeseung wasn't home, so you had the place to yourself-rare time to get things in order on your day off.
As you wiped down the countertops, the silence was interrupted by your phone buzzing on the counter. You glanced at the screen: an unknown number. Ignoring it was second nature; you never took calls from numbers you didn't recognize. But the phone buzzed again and again, the persistent vibration grating on your nerves.
"The hell is this?" you muttered, irritation creeping into your voice as you prepared to block the number. Just as you were about to hit the button, the phone buzzed again, your thumb accidentally grazing the answer key in your frustration.
"You finally answered," came a hoarse voice, instantly familiar and unwelcome. Your heart skipped a beat, a cold realization sinking in. "Who is this?" you demanded, now holding the phone to your ear.
"Baby... Please... Come back to me," the man's voice cracked, punctuated by the sound of soft sobs. Recognition hit you like a wave-this was your ex, the one you broke up with over a year ago, his obsession clearly as strong as ever.You hung up abruptly, a frustrated sigh escaping your lips as you massaged your temples, trying to stave off the headache that was beginning to form. The phone buzzed again, the same number flashing on the screen. You blocked it immediately, your frustration bubbling over. "How did this guy even get my new number?" you muttered. You'd changed it twice, yet somehow he'd found you again.
Hours later, the apartment was finally spotless, and the only task left was to take out the trash. You had missed the janitor's usual rounds, so you grabbed the bag and headed for the stairs. As you descended, the faint sound of footsteps echoed behind you. At first, you brushed it off as someone else taking the stairs, but as you reached the third floor, a hand suddenly gripped your arm, spinning you around.
Your instinct was to fight, to kick the assailant away, but then you saw his face-Riki, your ex-lover. Your body tensed, recognizing him instantly."Riki...?" you muttered, eyes narrowing in disbelief.
Nishimura Riki, the same guy you'd dated for three months before calling it quits. Heeseung's friend, a year younger than you, with a reputation for being far too obsessive. Even after a year, he clearly hadn't moved on.
Oups ! Cette image n'est pas conforme à nos directives de contenu. Afin de continuer la publication, veuillez la retirer ou mettre en ligne une autre image.
"I told you, we can't," you said, your voice firm with frustration. "Babe, please, just one last chance," Riki pleaded, his voice desperate as he grabbed your hand, ignoring the trash bag you were holding. "I just held the trash, don't touch that," you snapped, yanking your hand away. "Let's talk some other time. Not now."
But Riki wasn't about to give up easily. He lunged forward, wrapping his arms around you from behind in a desperate hug. "Riki! Let go of me or I'll cut both your arms off!" you yelled, your voice echoing off the stairwell walls.
