Chapter Text
It happened too fast.
One second, they were walking through the empty alley behind the studio — laughing, half-drenched in sweat from a late-night practice.
The next, tires screeched, doors flew open, and a rush of shadows lunged at them.
“Move—!” Hoshi shouted, grabbing Dino’s arm.
But a blow struck the side of his head before he could even turn. The world tilted. He heard Jun cry out, something sharp in Mandarin from Minghao — then a sickening thud.
And then, darkness.
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When Hoshi came to, his arms were tied behind him and his head was pounding.
The air was cold and damp. Metal clinked faintly in the distance, and the ground under him was hard — concrete. Pipes lined the ceiling, dripping occasionally. Somewhere close, someone coughed.
He groaned and shifted. Pain bloomed on the back of his head.
“Hyung…?” a voice called softly.
Dino.
He blinked toward the sound. The maknae was chained to a pipe, legs pulled tightly to his chest. His face was pale, lips cracked, bruises forming along his cheek.
“Dino—are you okay?”
“I think so,” he whispered. “I don’t know where we are. They hit us… They hit you hard.”
Hoshi tried to move but found his ankles shackled, chains bolted to the floor. His wrists were bound behind him with zip ties. Every breath was shallow from the strain.
The room was large, gray, windowless — likely a warehouse. Pipes lined the ceiling and walls. Jun and Minghao were nearby: Jun flat on his back, blood dried beneath his nose; Minghao slumped against the wall, one arm twisted awkwardly.
Before he could process more, the door screeched open.
Three men entered.
The first was on the bigger side — broad and round, with sweat stains under his shirt and a grin that didn’t reach his eyes.
The second was lean, pale, hair bleached platinum blond. Sharp suit, clipboard in hand.
The third one — the one in the back — had a scar running down the side of his face. His eyes were cold. Cruel. His boots thudded on the floor like threats.
“Well,” the blonde said with a clipped tone. “You’re awake. That saves us time.”
He approached with casual confidence, skimming the clipboard.
“Kwon Soonyoung. Hoshi. One of the older members in the group, performance leader. Dancer. Fan favorite.” He stopped in front of Hoshi and crouched down. “Good. You’ll make a perfect first example.”
Hoshi didn’t answer.
The scarred man stepped closer behind him, cracking his knuckles.
“I’m Dae,” he growled. “The one who makes you wish you’d stayed unconscious.”
“And I’m Jin,” said the chubby man with an oily smile. “I’ll be your caretaker. Food, water… comfort. You’ll learn to be grateful.”
His eyes swept Hoshi’s body, lingering.
Disgust churned in Hoshi’s chest.
“I don’t care who you are,” he spat. “Let us go—”
A boot slammed into his stomach.
Hoshi doubled over with a choked gasp, coughing hard as Dae withdrew.
“Now, now,” the blond said mildly. “Let’s not damage the merchandise just yet.”
He stood and looked around. “Wake the others. It’s time to shoot our first video.”
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The captors kicked the others awake — Jun groaned and swore; Minghao cried out in pain when his arm was touched. Then they left and returned with a camera, tripod, and harsh lighting.
“Time for your close-up,” Kwan — the blonde — said.
He pointed to Hoshi. Dae hauled him up and strapped him into a heavy steel chair in the center of the room. The leather creaked as restraints locked around his wrists, ankles, and chest.
“We’re asking thirty million per head,” Kwan explained. “Nice and neat. One release per payment. But we need proof of life.”
Hoshi glared at him. “You’re not getting anything.”
Kwan smirked. “Let’s see if your company agrees.”
He gave a nod.
Dae stepped forward and dragged a knife across Hoshi’s thigh — not deep, but sharp enough to tear fabric and draw blood.
“Say your name,” Kwan instructed. “Today’s date. And tell them this is real.”
The camera light flicked on.
Hoshi hesitated — until he saw Dae move toward Dino.
“…I’m Hoshi,” he said slowly. “From SEVENTEEN. Today is the 18th. We’ve been taken. This isn’t a joke. Don’t call the police. Please… do what they ask.”
His voice cracked at the end.
“Perfect,” Kwan murmured, hitting stop.
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The video was sent.
The next day, Kwan returned with his phone and a scowl.
“Your company tried to negotiate,” he said, scrolling. “Stalling. Asking for confirmation. Time to convince them.”
He looked at Hoshi.
Dae cracked his knuckles. “My favorite part.”
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They dragged Hoshi back into the chair. This time, the restraints were tighter. Jin hovered behind him, stroking the back of his neck like a pet.
“Shhh,” he whispered. “Don’t fight. You’ll only make it worse.”
Dae returned — with rope, a taser, and a roll of duct tape.
“You want confirmation?” Kwan said, looking into the camera. “Here’s what happens when you delay.”
The taser buzzed to life.
“Wait—wait!” Hoshi shouted, eyes wide. “Don’t—!”
But the shock hit him in the ribs, and his scream echoed through the room.
His scream echoed through the warehouse.
“HYUNG!” Dino cried. “Please stop!”
Jun and Minghao struggled against their chains as the taser hit Hoshi again — this time lower, across his thigh. He gasped for air, trembling.
Hoshi’s head lolled as a second shock hit his thigh. His breath came in short, ragged gasps.
Jin leaned down, wiping sweat from his forehead with a cloth, humming softly.
“Your company did this,” Kwan said coolly. “Their delay. Their excuses"”
He leaned into the camera.
“Let’s hope the next answer is wired.”
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The idols were left restrained — water rationed, food sparse.
Hoshi lay in silence, body twitching with the aftershocks. Muscles spasmed against scorched skin. But he didn’t cry out. Not once.
He couldn’t.
He had to be strong for them.
Jin stayed close, dabbing at the burns with a sponge like he was proud of them. When Hoshi flinched, he leaned in with a whisper.
“You’re mine to take care of. They said so.”
Then — a kiss to his temple.
Hoshi gagged.
He tried to turn away, but his body wouldn’t listen.
“You’ll get used to me,” Jin whispered sweetly. “Eventually.”