Crimson Strings [Yeongyu]

fractured sanity

Nowhere to go. 

Nowhere to run. 

Yeonjun smirked. 

“You lost it?” he murmured, fake sympathy dripping from his voice. “That’s a shame.” 

Beomgyu’s fists clenched. “You took it.” 

Yeonjun hummed, leaning against the doorframe. “Did I?” 

His gaze dragged over Beomgyu—*disheveled, shaking, trapped in his own mind*.

A masterpiece of unraveling sanity. 

Beomgyu knew it. *He knew what Yeonjun was doing.* 

This was all a game. 

A sick, twisted game designed to break him down piece by piece. 

But he wouldn’t let him win. 

*He wouldn’t.* 

Beomgyu straightened, forcing steel into his voice. 

“You want me to lose my mind, don’t you?” he spat. “You want me to fall apart so you can put me back together in whatever fucked-up way you want.” 

Yeonjun chuckled, slow and dark. 

“I don’t need to do anything, love.” 

His voice dropped to a whisper. 

“You’re already falling apart.” 

Beomgyu *swung at him*. 

A desperate, reckless punch aimed straight for his jaw. 

Yeonjun *caught* his wrist. 

Easily. 

Effortlessly. 

Then—he twisted. 

Beomgyu gasped as pain shot up his arm, his knees buckling. Before he could react, Yeonjun **yanked** him forward—spinning him around— 

And suddenly, Beomgyu’s back was **pressed against Yeonjun’s chest**. 

Yeonjun’s arm looped around his waist, holding him in place. His other hand came up, fingers curling around Beomgyu’s throat in a **mocking caress**. 

Not tight enough to choke. 

Just tight enough to **remind him**. 

“I love this part,” Yeonjun murmured against his ear. “The part where you still think you have a chance.” 

Beomgyu thrashed—but Yeonjun’s grip tightened, pinning him still. 

His breath was warm, *dangerously close*. 

"You can fight all you want," Yeonjun whispered, his fingers brushing against Beomgyu’s pulse. "But deep down, you already know how this ends." 

Beomgyu’s chest heaved. "Fuck you." 

Yeonjun *laughed*. 

Slow. Amused. 

Then—**he let go**. 

Beomgyu stumbled forward, gasping. He spun around, fists clenched— 

But Yeonjun was already stepping back. 

Like he was done playing. 

Like this was all **too easy** for him. 

Beomgyu glared. "*Why* are you doing this?" 

Yeonjun studied him for a moment. 

Then, with a slow smirk, he reached into his pocket— 

And pulled out the **key**. 

Beomgyu’s blood ran cold. 

Yeonjun twirled it between his fingers, watching Beomgyu’s reaction. 

"So you weren’t hallucinating," he mused. "Good to know." 

Beomgyu’s breath hitched. "*Give it to me.*" 

Yeonjun’s smirk widened. 

"Come get it." 

Then— 

He tossed it. 

Beomgyu lunged, eyes wide— 

The key hit the floor, sliding across the room— 

Straight into the **darkest part of the shadows**. 

Beomgyu *froze*. 

The room suddenly felt *wrong*. 

Too cold. 

Too **silent**. 

The shadows shifted. 

A shape **moved** in the darkness. 

And for the first time— 

Yeonjun’s smirk **faded**. 

"Ah," he murmured, watching the shadows pulse like a living thing. 

"Looks like they finally noticed you." 

Beomgyu’s stomach dropped. 

A breath—cold as ice—**sighed against his neck**. 

And then— 

The whisper returned. 

*"Run."* 

The lights flickered— 

And the room **plunged into darkness**. 

---

To Be Continued…