Skz oneshotes (Requests Open)

Captive

Captive

The world outside had gone quiet. Or maybe it was just the darkness pressing in, thick and suffocating, that made the sounds of the city fade to nothing. Hyunjin blinked against the dim light, his wrists bound tightly in front of him, the coarse rope biting into his skin. Every muscle in his body ached, not just from struggling, but from the tension coiled like a spring in his chest.

He had no idea how long he had been here. Hours? Days? Time had lost all meaning in this shadowed room, where the walls were bare and the air smelled faintly of dust and antiseptic. The only sound was the quiet hum of the old air conditioner, breaking the silence like a heartbeat.

Hyunjin's mind raced, trying to piece together the events that had led him here. One moment he had been walking home from rehearsal, earbuds in, music pulsing through his veins, the next... darkness, pain, a blindfold, and then this.

Fear, sharp and immediate, clawed at him—but beneath it was something else: a simmering anger. Not the kind that flared and disappeared quickly, but the slow burn of frustration at his own helplessness. He was strong. He had survived grueling practices, sleepless nights, and punishing performances. Yet here he was, powerless, caught in someone else's game.

A door creaked, and Hyunjin's head snapped up. Footsteps echoed in the room outside. He held his breath, straining to hear more. The sound stopped, replaced by a quiet shuffle.

"Hyunjin," a voice said, low and deliberate. It was unfamiliar, sharp with authority. "You're awake."

Hyunjin's heart lurched, adrenaline flooding his system. "Who are you? What do you want?" His voice was steadier than he felt.

There was a pause, almost theatrical. "You'll see. For now... just listen."

The figure stepped into the dim light. Shadows carved lines across the stranger's face, hiding all but a glint of eyes that were cold and calculating. Hyunjin's instinct screamed at him to fight, but the ropes around his wrists made any sudden movement painful.

"Why me?" Hyunjin demanded. "Why now?"

The stranger didn't answer immediately. Instead, they circled him slowly, eyes assessing. "Because you're important. Because people notice you. And because you're stubborn. That stubbornness will make this... interesting."

Hyunjin's stomach churned. He realized, with a sinking certainty, that he was being tested—not just physically, but psychologically. The tension in the room was a trap in itself, designed to wear him down before any other action could take place.

"You think you can scare me," Hyunjin said, trying to inject confidence into his voice. "You're not going to break me."

The figure stopped, standing directly in front of him. "Break you?" They tilted their head, almost curious. "Oh, Hyunjin. This isn't about breaking you. It's about control. Survival. How far will you go to get back your freedom?"

Hyunjin's jaw tightened. He had no intention of giving in, no matter what game this person was playing. He studied the stranger, looking for weaknesses, patterns, anything that could give him leverage.

The stranger sighed, as if amused by his resolve. "Clever. But you're still bound." They reached down, removing the blindfold from Hyunjin's eyes fully. The dim light revealed more of the room—sparse, almost deliberately bare, with only a small cot, a metal chair, and a single window high above, too small to climb through.

Hyunjin shifted slightly, testing the ropes again. Nothing. They were tight, cruelly effective.

"You're good at surviving," the stranger said. "But surviving isn't enough. You'll need to listen, to obey... and maybe, just maybe, you'll learn something about yourself along the way."

Hyunjin's mind raced. He had a thousand questions, a thousand plans, but the one thing that anchored him was his refusal to give up. "You don't scare me. I'll get out of here. And when I do..."

The stranger's lips curved into a slow, sharp smile. "When you do... that's when the real test begins."

Hours stretched into an endless blur. Hyunjin was forced into a rhythm of isolation and interrogation, a psychological chess game where each word he spoke was measured, each reaction observed. The stranger fed him small morsels of information, enough to keep him guessing, enough to keep him on edge.

Despite the fear, something inside him sharpened. He began to analyze every sound, every shadow, every pause. He noticed the pattern in the footsteps, the subtle differences in the voice, the way the ropes loosened slightly when the stranger moved. Every detail became a potential lifeline.

During one session, when the stranger left the room for a brief moment, Hyunjin tested the ropes again, straining and twisting carefully. A knot loosened. His pulse raced—not with fear, but with a surge of hope. Escape wasn't impossible. It was just... difficult.

The next encounter with the stranger was the most intense yet. They returned with a tray of food, setting it down silently. Hyunjin's stomach growled despite himself, but he didn't reach for it. He watched the stranger instead.

"You're calculating," the stranger remarked, almost approvingly. "I can see it in your eyes. You're planning, aren't you?"

"I have to," Hyunjin said, voice steady. "Or I won't last here."

The stranger crouched to meet his gaze, eyes piercing. "Good. You'll need that mindset. But don't get too comfortable, Hyunjin. I'm always watching."

Days—or what felt like days—passed in a tension-filled haze. Hyunjin learned to anticipate the stranger's movements, to gauge when he could stretch, when he could breathe, when he could quietly manipulate the ropes. His mind became a weapon, sharper than it had ever been.

One night, as the stranger dozed in a corner chair, Hyunjin made his move. Every muscle tensed, every breath controlled. He worked the knots loose, quietly and methodically. The ropes slipped from his wrists with a whisper of friction against his skin.

His heart pounded—not with fear, but with the electric thrill of possibility. He moved cautiously to the door, testing the handle. Locked. Of course. But he noticed the faint click in the lock mechanism, the pattern in the stranger's sleep cycles. Timing. That was everything.

Hours later, after a careful and painstaking effort, Hyunjin found himself outside the small room, hidden in the shadows of the abandoned warehouse. His legs ached, his body trembling, but he was free—at least temporarily.

The stranger's voice echoed faintly behind him, calm, almost approving. "Impressive, Hyunjin. But freedom... is only the beginning."

Hyunjin didn't stop. He ran, adrenaline carrying him through the maze of empty streets, his mind already racing ahead to the next challenge: staying alive, staying hidden, and staying ahead of someone who clearly relished the hunt as much as he feared it.

Even as he vanished into the night, Hyunjin knew one thing with certainty: he had been pushed to his limits, tested in ways he had never imagined. And somewhere deep inside, he realized the truth the stranger had hinted at—that survival wasn't just physical. It was mental. It was emotional. And Hyunjin, fierce and stubborn, had survived.

But the memory of those eyes, watching him, studying him, would haunt him forever. And he knew, without a doubt, that this was far from over.

Because some games didn't end with escape—they only began.