hostage | kept
Read on Ao3
Warnings: past abusive relationship, stalking, blackmail, canon typical violence
Pairings: gahan, implied/referenced canon level of jaehee/sunah
Word Count: 4857
Don't be an idiot, dummy, he hears Soohyun say in his head, don't do something stupid just because you think it'll turn out good for you. I'm not always going to be there to protect you.
But then he thinks of Elijah, of the way she looks when she gets to actually be a teenager and not a creature of loneliness stuck in a house full of ghosts. He thinks of K and the way he's dedicated his whole life to a cause, just on the off chance he can get some measure of vengeance for what happened to his family. He thinks of Lawyer Ko, whose daughter died because of corporate greed and negligence.
He thinks of Yohan.
And he turns on the phone and dials a number he swore never to dial again.
Gaon looks down at the phone in his hand, rolling it back and forth between his palms.
Yohan had stayed with him that night, just sitting in silence until Gaon's stomach had growled. Then he'd helped him up, walked him downstairs, and sat him on a chair in the kitchen. Elijah had come downstairs and looked at him, before promptly declaring that Yohan had no idea what he was doing and went over to help.
He doesn't remember what happened between then and going to sleep and feels an unexpected pang at the thought of not being able to remember Yohan and Elijah trying to cook in the same kitchen.
What a wonder that must've been.
He gives himself a shake and looks back down at the old phone. Yohan had said he was going to wait to give it to the police until all of his contacts were in the new phone, but Gaon hasn't been able to let go of it. It clings to him like dust before a big thunderstorm, brushed away once but always returning. Inevitable.
No matter where you go, a horrible voice hisses, you'll never be able to run away from me. I'll always find you. Always.
He glances over at the door before he can stop himself. Yohan went off to work hours ago, there is no one here who would just barge into his room unannounced. No one is coming in. No one's going to come in.
He's hidden here, in these walls, behind this door.
For now.
He looks back down at the phone. The black screen leers up at him, distorting his reflection. His eyes look wrong, his face looks crooked, and in the way the light catches the very bottom of the screen, he almost looks like he's smiling.
Jung Sunah is a threat. Yohan has said he won't release the video, not when it could end with Gaon getting hurt.
But if he could eliminate that piece before Sunah puts it in play…
He glances at the door again.
Don't be an idiot, dummy, he hears Soohyun say in his head, don't do something stupid just because you think it'll turn out good for you. I'm not always going to be there to protect you.
But then he thinks of Elijah, of the way she looks when she gets to actually be a teenager and not a creature of loneliness stuck in a house full of ghosts. He thinks of K and the way he's dedicated his whole life to a cause, just on the off chance he can get some measure of vengeance for what happened to his family. He thinks of Lawyer Ko, whose daughter died because of corporate greed and negligence.
He thinks of Yohan.
And he turns on the phone and dials a number he swore never to dial again.
***
An alert pops up on K's phone the second the front door opens. Within moments he's called up the security footage from the camera on the gate and bites back a curse when he sees Kim Gaon leaving the Kang mansion.
He gets into his car, sets the phone to track his location, and calls Yoon Soohyun.
"Yes?"
"He's moving," K says, not bothering to say who, "do you know where he's going?"
Rustling on the other end as she must put on her jacket. "No, I don't. He hasn't called me. Did he say anything?"
"I wasn't at the house." He turns onto a small street and keeps driving. "I'm tracking his location."
"I'll ask Elijah and Oh pansa if they know."
He has to stop at a red light. He drums his fingers on the steering wheel impatiently, watching the little red dot that is Kim Gaon make its way downtown.
"Elijah says she doesn't know where he is," Soohyun's voice says a moment later, "and that he needs to get home as soon as possible."
The light turns green. K drives. "What about Oh pansa?"
"Nothing yet. Have you told—"
"No," K cuts her off, "and he's not going to know until we know where he's going."
A pause. "Are you sure that's a good idea?"
"Do you really want Kang Yohan on the warpath right now? With Jung Sunah right behind him?"
He can almost hear the face Soohyun makes through the phone. "No. No, I don't. Where is he now?"
K glances at the phone. "Somewhere near the luxury district. Right near the—"
A car rushes by in front of him and he jerks to a stop just in time, horn blaring off into the distance.
"Are you okay?"
"Yes, I'm fine." He looks at the phone. "He's right near the hotel at the edge of the river."
"What?" He hears a car door open and close. A second later the car starts and Soohyun's voice moves a little further away. "What is he doing all the way out there?"
K opens his mouth to reply when his phone buzzes. It's Elijah, wanting to join the call. Judging by Soohyun's sigh, she's getting the same thing.
"Should we let her on?"
"I don't think we have much of a choice."
Sure enough, without either of them doing anything. Elijah's voice rings out in the car. "He called someone before he left the house. Who did he call?"
"Can you still get into his old phone?"
"Of course I can, I'm not an idiot."
The corner of K's mouth tugs up into a smile despite himself. The sound of keys echoes over the phone as Elijah types away.
"Okay, let's see…it's a local number." She reads it out. "Do you know it?"
Soohyun's breath catches sharply. K almost takes a corner too fast. "What?"
"Aish."
"What is it, unnie," Elijah's voice says, growing shriller, "who is that?"
"Elijah, can you track that number too?"
"Give me a second," and the keys start up again. K grits his teeth.
"Who is it?"
"It's—it's him."
A light suddenly turns red. K jerks the car to a stop. His eyes widen, staring unseeing at the road in front of him. Soohyun is still talking. So is Elijah. He can't hear anything over the rush of blood in his ears.
It's him. It's him. It's him. It's him.
The light turns green.
K sets his jaw.
"Elijah."
"What?"
"Call him. Tell him."
A pause. He hears Soohyun's car rev up. Elijah's voice is cold, far too old, and far too hungry. At the moment, he can't bring himself to care.
"Make him pay."
As you command.
***
Yohan is not, in fact, at work, strictly speaking.
Instead, he is watching someone explain to him why this painting, this one, this will be perfect. It's another abstract piece, something other people of his station might observe as a critique of the real or some ineffable such babble that bores him to death. His facade of polite disinterest is enough to fool the gallery owner, peddling his wares the way an insurance salesman would target a widow at her husband's funeral. His eyes rove over the painting once more.
In truth, he's here because he needs the information.
There are a few circles that run amidst the high society of Korea's elite that are even harder to get into if you are not invited in. Some are benign. Others less so.
Jung Sunah's comments about hunting dogs awoke memories he would much rather forget, but they did serve a purpose, bringing back images of his father coming home with money in his briefcase and a suspiciously accurate foresight of just what would be happening in the business for the next month. He remembers Isaac saying he never understood how their father could be so sure about something as intangible as life and death, and wondering whether or not it was so unsure when there were so many ways people could die.
His niece is very good at what she does and there are only so many reasons why art galleries with laughable forgeries and questionable appraisers stay in business for so long.
He turns, cutting off the gallery owner's nonsensical blather and walks toward a piece in the far corner. It's an imitation of…honestly, he can't be bothered to figure out what it's an imitation of. It doesn't matter, anyhow. What does matter is the way the gallery owner suddenly chokes off at the way he stops in front of it.
"Th-that painting isn't for sale," the gallery owner stammers, "I'm afraid I've had other offers that are far too good to pass up, and—"
Yohan turns to look at him and the man falls silent. He watches the roll of his throat and looks back up.
"Are you…here on their behalf?"
He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a folded piece of paper. He holds it between two fingers and holds it out. The man takes it with trembling hands. He reads what's written on it. His eyes widen and he looks back up as the color drains from his face.
"Y-you're certain?"
Do I look, Yohan says silently, as though I have ever been uncertain about anything?
Luckily for the man in front of him, he seems to get that message quite clearly and nods.
"Right this way, sir."
***
Gaon tugs his suit jacket a little closer around himself and steps into the restaurant. The host takes his name and says that the rest of them are already seated, just upstairs, would he like to be shown to his table?
His gut curdles and he almost says no.
"This way, if you please, it's just up the stairs."
The opulence makes him sick. He would almost prefer if they were sitting in an abandoned warehouse, kilometers from help. He feels his eyes glaze over as they round a pillar to a table, full except for the seat at the very end, opposite the head.
And there he sits.
A smile spreads across his face as he sees Gaon there, waving lazily as the conversation amidst the others fades. He gestures toward the empty chair, but not before raising his eyebrow.
Gaon remembers.
He bows, allowing himself one final moment of weakness as he hides his face, before looking back up. "Hello, hyung."
"Kim Gaon," comes the response, "sit."
He sits, setting his weight down with careful precision and folding his hands in his lap. A waiter comes to pour his glass of wine and he quickly covers it with his hand.
"No, thank you, just water for me."
"Are you sure?" The voice from the other end of the table makes the unseen hand clench. "Quite rude of you to decline such an offer."
"I have to work this afternoon," he says, proud of the way his voice carries, "shouldn't indulge."
The pause is enough to let him know he's disappointed him, as are the whispers that he still has to work, how shocking, the poor boy declining to taste the richest wine he'll probably ever get to see. He brushes them off and instead politely thanks the waiter for serving his food.
Eyes watch him as he lowers his hand to take the first bite.
"So," one of the other people at the table asks, "are you two…involved? We've never even heard of you before you came to this lunch."
"Nonsense," another says, "this is Kim Gaon! One of the judges from the live court show! Truly one of the true scions of entertainment on those networks."
"Ah, yes, I've seen that show. Very interesting."
Gaon takes a deep breath. "Yes, I am a judge."
"Mm. Interesting career, a judge. Not very much money in it, is there?"
Another one snorts. "There is if you're smart about it."
I don't think you and I have the same definition of smart.
"But my other question," the first one says, pointing at Gaon with his fork, "are you two involved?"
"Not romantically," Gaon says in a still remarkably steady voice, "we've not seen each other for a while now."
He looks over unconsciously to see the eyes still watching him. A mouth quirks up into a humorless smile. "How long has it been now?"
"At least seven years."
"At least?" The fork gestures between them. "That's a while."
Doesn't feel like it.
"It's good to know you missed me that much."
Gaon blinks, looking back down at his plate. He picks up a small piece of food and eats it carefully.
"But you did date?"
He swallows painfully. "No."
"Always the cynic," says the mouth, "you made it sound like we barely knew each other. I'm hurt."
"I said we didn't date," Gaon says, looking up, "that our relationship wasn't romantic in nature. I didn't say we weren't close."
"Still. You sound so…detached."
He hates this. He hates this. He hates how quickly he's regressed back into being a frightened child, scrabbling at the walls. "It's not like the only significant relationships are romantic ones."
The fork moves again. "Ah, but your relationship was meaningful?"
"Oh, yes," says the mouth, taking another bite of food as the eyes look Gaon up and down, "very much so, isn't that right?"
"It certainly shapes the way I live my life now."
"Built it, you could say."
"…yes, you could."
The mouth hums and the eyes linger a moment longer. Gaon is drowning.
Then they move away and whatever conversation was happening before he came resumes. He looks down, carefully eating just enough to blend in and not too much to swirl the mania coiling in his gut.
It's for them. It's for them. It's for them.
"Hey," he hears after a while. He manages not to jump too much and looks up to see a woman on his other side leaning closer, "are you feeling alright? You're not eating that much."
He blinks in surprise at the genuine concern and tries to smile a little. "Yes, I'm alright. I just don't have a large appetite."
"That's new," the voice laughs suddenly from the other end of the table, "you used to eat like a pig."
The sudden and explicit insult draws all of the table's attention, the woman's mouth dropping open in shock. A hand simply puts a glass down and the head tilts.
"Things change," Gaon manages after a pause.
"Mm." The mouth smiles knowingly. "Not all things."
My name is Kim Gaon. I am a judge on the live court show. You can't hurt me anymore.
"We were discussing the work you did together," the man halfway down the table says, "about how you investigated certain insurance cases together."
Gaon's stomach begins to drop as he notices how tense he's becoming. He risks a glance around to see that most of the eyes are now on him.
He remembers the way all the rich people looked at him at that charity function. He remembers the way everyone looked at him when Kang Yohan revealed his parents' fate to the public. He remembers the way Yohan looked at him when he said he wouldn't be used as a tool to destroy him and Elijah.
He will not be used again.
"Sorry," he says, "it's been such a long time. I don't quite remember all the technical details. Hyung will, though."
"Oh, they all just blur together for me, I'm afraid." The expression sharpens. "It's so difficult to discern one experiment from the next."
Out of sight, his hand clenches into a fist.
"Oh, don't be jealous," the voice scolds, taking on the tone of a parent scolding a child, "you know you've always had my special attention."
A few of the guests titter. Gaon's chest clenches. Despite everything, he manages to hold eye contact. Something that these eyes aren't used to, and judging by the way they narrow, something they don't like.
An unexpected rush surges through him.
"You left so suddenly all those years ago," the mouth says, "you didn't even say goodbye."
Gaon draws himself up. "There wasn't much of a goodbye to say."
"Perhaps you're right." The head tilts. "After all, you never truly left, did you?"
He's not quick enough to stop his eyes from widening.
No.
No. I got away from you.
"Oh," the voice murmurs, deadly soft, "you didn't think we were finished, did you?"
"My involvement was."
"Nonsense," the voice laughs, "why would we let our most promising study go?"
No.
No.
No, no, no, no, no—
"You've had a good seven years, haven't you?"
He's miscalculated. He's been stupid and reckless and all the things he shouldn't have been and he's such an idiot.
A phone rings and he jumps.
"Ah," the voice says, "right on time. If you'll excuse us, the judge and I have an appointment to keep."
His body betrays him, moving on instinct as he gets up to follow the voice out of the room. As he turns, his eyes catch a glass of wine, shimmering in the light. The red liquid sparkles and dances as they walk past. A somewhat hysterical part of him thinks he might be limping, leaving bloodlike wine trailing behind him as they leave the restaurant and get into the waiting car.
At least, he thinks before the door shuts on the outside world, at least it's not them.
***
"He's moving again!"
"Aish, really? Where's he going?"
"Down to the industrial district. Where are you?"
"I'm still fifteen minutes away, where are you?"
"Construction has the traffic backed up, I'm stuck."
"What about the Chief, where is he?"
"I called him ten minutes ago, he said he was coming!"
"Call him again, tell him what's happening."
"Hold on, he's calling me, let me see—"
"Wait, ask him—! Aish, he hung up already."
"I'll see what they're talking about, hold on."
"Hurry up!"
"I'm hurrying, I'm hurrying! Wait, they're done, he's—hold on—"
"Yoon Soohyun. Get a squadron and send them to the address in the text."
"What? Why? What about—"
"Elijah, leak the files you'll be sent to the media contacts."
"Answer her, K, what's going on?"
"Did you get them?"
"Yes, I got them, what's…oh."
"'Oh?' Elijah, what does 'oh' mean?"
"…you'll get him?"
"We will."
"Get who? What is happening? Why does no one ever tell me anything?"
"We'll tell you after."
"I'll hold you to that."
***
The car slows to a stop.
The door opens.
"Up."
He moves.
It's dark.
A hand on his face.
"You're even prettier than I remember. Fat, though. You really should stop eating so much."
He feels nothing.
"Come on. You really shouldn't have run away all those years ago. You've made me very angry with you. You know what happens when you make me angry, don't you?"
It's safer to feel nothing. If he feels nothing, he can't feel everything.
"Don't worry. You won't be making me angry ever again. You're going to make me very happy, aren't you?"
A light. A single light. Someone in a chair.
"You're going to behave."
A hand again, sliding down his back.
"I was very generous to you when you behaved."
The figure stands up from the chair and walks closer.
He should never have called.
"You know Kang Yohan, don't you?"
Gaon's eyes widen as indeed, Kang Yohan steps forward. He looks—he looks like Yohan. He looks like the man who stands in the courtroom as he sentences someone to 235 years in prison. He looks like the man who ordered Cha Kyung-Hee's son flogged in front of the entire nation. He looks—he looks—
He looks like Hyung.
Yohan raises his hand. Holds it out. A silent come.
He doesn't want to. He wants to run, wants to scream, wants to yell was it all a lie? Did you know the whole time? How long have you known, what did you do, how could you?
But Hyung's hand is on his shoulder and Yohan is waiting and Gaon can't do anything but step forward to take it.
He knows Yohan can feel the way he's shaking when he takes the outstretched hand. He searches his face desperately for any sign that this is a trick, that it's not real, that he's here to save him, not condemn him, and finds nothing. Instead, he's pulled closer until Yohan can reach up and touch his face, sliding the hand around to grip the back of his neck.
"Take him."
A sudden thud as a body hits the ground and Gaon whirls around to see K standing over a crumpled body. His eyes widen, seeing nothing more than the unconscious form of that—that—he's—Hyung is—
He's nothing but a body. Nothing but a man. All the pain and suffering he caused Gaon and who knows how many other people and right now, he's only a man.
He watches K drag the unconscious man away in a daze. They knocked him out. They hurt him. They hurt him and now he's not going to touch Gaon ever again and Yohan—
He turns to look. The person who held him in the bathroom and stayed with him that night looks back, hand firm and strong on the back of his neck. It's Yohan. Only Yohan.
He's safe.
He's safe.
The realization washes over him and he barely has time to register the alarm that crosses Yohan's face before blackness swallows him once more.
***
"You're so dramatic," Yohan says softly as Gaon finally wakes up, flailing a little in the covers before he realizes where he is, "if you wanted my attention so badly, you could have asked."
His boy just blinks up at him with those big sad eyes and mumbles something that could be his name.
"You're lucky I was already looking for him," he continues, "I was on my way when K and Elijah called me."
He has to hold Gaon down when he tries to get up.
"Yah, you fell and aggravated all of your injuries again. You need to stay put." Gaon pouts but lets him settle him back to the bed. "At this point I'd swear you like getting hurt."
He regrets it as soon as it leaves his mouth. Gaon's breath stutters and he almost flinches away. He raises his hands instantly, leaning back to give him more space. Gaon takes a few deep breaths and screws his eyes shut, forcing whatever memories come to mind back into the depths.
"I shouldn't have said that."
"No, you shouldn't." Another breath and he must make himself relax, leaning against the pillow and looking up at him. "What happened to him?"
"Are you sure you want to know?"
"Did you kill him?"
"Did you want me to?"
Gaon chews his lip, looking away. One of his hands fiddles with a loose thread and Yohan feels the sudden instinct to cover it with his own.
"I just want it to be like he never existed," Gaon mumbles eventually, "like he never happened to me."
"I didn't kill him."
"Will you?"
"Do you want me to?" A moment passes before Gaon shakes his head. "Then I won't."
"Really? You won't kill him?"
***
"To tell you the truth, Chief," the art gallery owner says as he leads Yohan through the back to the business rooms, "they've wanted him gone for a while. He's been getting too big, too difficult to handle. They won't come after you if you deal with him."
"And what about the connections he has?"
"The Foundation, you mean?" The man scoffs. "We don't need them. They're trivial. And the project they're working on with the President and everything—child's play. They're not even optimizing it to make money the way they should be."
He opens a drawer and pulls out a file, handing it to Yohan. He looks through it. This should be more than enough.
"And the video?"
The art gallery owner sighs. "That'll be more difficult. The easiest way will be for Jung Sunah to claim it wasn't her and they hired a double. Some sort of sick power fantasy or fetish that can be written off as the act of a perverted crime lord."
Yohan hums, tucking the file under his arm. "I will take that painting as well."
"Don't bother." The man waves his hand. "Your father did more than enough to cover any debt you might owe for getting rid of a loose end. Consider us even."
He nods and turns to leave. As he closes the door of the gallery behind him, his phone rings.
Right on time.
***
The man jerks awake as K throws the bucket of water over him. He splutters and gasps like a fish as Yohan walks toward him. He scowls up and does his best to look intimidating, succeeding only to look like a drowned rat.
"You think you can get away with this?" He wriggles. "I have friends in places more powerful than you, Kang Yohan, you won't get away with this."
In response, Yohan holds out the file, fighting the urge to grin as the man's eyes widen.
"Where did you get that?"
"Your friends," he drawls, opening the file, "seems you're not on such good terms with them at the moment."
The man thrashes against the ropes. "You have no idea what you're dealing with."
He continues turning pages. "Market manipulation, embezzlement, narcotics…human trafficking, organ harvests."
He looks up when the sound stops.
"Quite the list."
"So what?" The man bares his teeth in a way that's probably meant to be threatening. "You'll drag me onto your little show and read off my crimes? It'll never make it to the air."
"I'm afraid you're out of my jurisdiction."
Confusion occupies the man's few remaining brain cells and Yohan folds his arms over the file.
"You've been called before an international court for your crimes."
The man laughs hysterically. "So I'm supposed to beg for justice in front of the world's court? Only a weak man begs for mercy."
Yohan looks at him for a moment. Then he nods to K. K steps forward and slices the ropes off. The man stands up, cocky, self-assured, still out of breath.
"Good thing you've come to your senses. I could've made life very difficult for…"
He trails off when he sees the last thing Yohan holds up. The blood drains from his face.
"Do you think," Yohan says softly, "that your friends are still your friends?"
The man splutters, looking up at him. "You told—"
"They knew. They knew you took a risk when you contacted the Social Responsibility Foundation. They knew you let an outsider know about you and them. And they know you gambled and lost."
Yohan tucks the photo away and looks at the man that hurt his Kim Gaon.
"If I were a kind man, I would lock you up and wait for the international court to bring you to justice."
He steps closer, close enough to let the man see beneath the mask.
"Tell me," he whispers, "do I look like a kind man?"
The pathetic whelp shudders and trembles. "Please, you have no idea what they'll do to me, you have to help me!"
"I thought only weak men begged for mercy."
"Please, please, they'll kill me, they'll—"
He doesn't hear anything else as he and K turn and walk away.
***
"Really," he says, reaching out and patting Gaon's shoulder.
His boy seems soothed at that, shoulders dropping as his eyes drift toward the door. Yohan turns to see what he's looking at, only to frown when there's nothing there.
"What?"
"He's gone," Gaon mumbles, disbelief lacing his words, "he's...he's really gone."
"Yes, he's gone."
"No one hurts me," he continues, looking up at him, "no one touches me."
Yohan nods.
After a moment, Gaon reaches for his hand and places it on his cheek again. Yohan's chest feels strange. Gaon doesn't look away from him, hand still covering his.
It takes one more breath for Yohan to bring his other hand up and cradle his face, just to hold him there.
"Thank you," comes his boy's voice. He can't do anything other than nod. "Will you say it?"
"Say what?"
Gaon squeezes the hand he's holding.
Oh.
Oh.
"You're mine," Yohan says lowly, holding him close, "you're mine now, Kim Gaon."
And Gaon smiles.
***
"He's missing," Jaehee says as she walks into Sunah's office, "and his contact lines have been permanently shut off."
Sunah pouts, idly flicking the spirals on the notebook in front of her. "Pity. I thought he'd be smarter."
"We're going to have to come up with a cover story for the video."
"No," she says, leaning back, "don't worry about the video. It won't come to light anymore, there's no point."
"But Kang Yohan can—"
"Kang Yohan got what he wanted, and he knows that leverage is no good against me anymore. Besides," she adds, her lips curling into a smile, "we've got something much better."
Jaehee furrows her brow. "What?"
"Our secret weapon. Planted where no one can see." She toys with the pretty silver cross around her neck. "Where Kang Yohan won't even think to look."
She giggles.
"He's just made it deadlier than ever."
20 notes
·
View notes