Chapter Text
Capturing Phuwin was nothing like Pond had expected , if anything the man was an absolute menace. He refused to give in, fought back with relentless anger, and never stopped firing off questions. His sharp tongue was bad enough, but his teeth were worse , sinking into Pond’s arm not once, not twice, but more than three times, each bite carrying just as much defiance as the last.
“Stop trying to break free. You’re only going to hurt yourself,” Pond said firmly, his voice steady despite the tension in the room. He sat a few steps away from the chair, keeping his distance, watching every movement carefully as Phuwin struggled against the ropes.
The bindings creaked under the force of his resistance, his wrists already reddened from the friction, but he didn’t stop.
“You untie these ropes,” Phuwin snapped, his voice raw and sharp, “and I’ll show you exactly what hurting feels like, you ugly prick.” He yanked forward again, chest heaving, breath coming in harsh bursts like his lungs were on the verge of giving out but the fire in his eyes didn’t waver for a second.
Pond couldn’t help the laugh that slipped out at the insult. Ugly? Really? The word felt foreign on him , something he’d never been called before. Of course it had to come from this guy.
But the amusement faded almost as quickly as it came. In the back of his mind, something twisted uncomfortably as he watched Phuwin struggle against the ropes, every movement desperate, every breath strained. The bindings dug into his skin, and still he refused to stop fighting.
Pond exhaled slowly, the sound quieter now, heavier. If he didn’t desperately need the money for his mother’s treatment, he wouldn’t have gone this far. He wouldn’t have done any of this.
But life had never been fair , Pond knew that better than anyone. You didn’t get to choose what you did or didn’t do; sometimes, the choice was already made for you. He had already swallowed the poison and there was no spitting it out now. All that was left was to live with it, to let it burn its way through him slowly.
The whole situation twisted his stomach in knots, guilt and unease settling heavier with every passing second. Watching Phuwin struggle only made it worse. Maybe worse than what the other man was feeling though even thinking that felt wrong. Low and unfair. Phuwin didn’t know anything about his reasons, and even if he did… it wouldn’t change a thing. There was no justification for this.
And judging by the fire in him, the way he fought even while bound, Pond knew exactly how it would go , Phuwin would tear him apart before he ever listened to an excuse. Not that Pond planned to give one. He just needed time. Four weeks. That’s all.
Four weeks, and this would be over. He’d leave Phuwin alone, take the money, and pay the hospital bills.
Pond had been lingering in the strange, dimly lit neighborhood behind the hospital where his mother lay dying, killing time he didn’t really have. The air there always felt off , too quiet in some places, too watchful in others.
That’s when they found him , A group of men approached out of nowhere, their presence sudden and suffocating. Before he could react, they had him by the arm, dragging him away from the narrow alley and deeper into an even more unsettling part of the area. The streets grew darker, emptier, like the world had thinned out.
They stopped in a shadowed space where the light barely reached.
One man stepped forward , broad-shouldered, unmistakably imposing but Pond couldn’t make out his face, not with the way the shadows clung to him. His voice, though, was clear. Calm. Controlled.
He offered Pond a deal.
A generous amount of money… in exchange for kidnapping someone and keeping him locked away for four weeks.
Pond had tried to question them “Why me?” his voice edged with suspicion as he pulled his arm back, eyes scanning their faces for anything familiar. “There are plenty of people you could’ve asked. Why pick me?” He pressed further, demanding something anything that made sense.
But no answer ever came.
They deflected, ignored, moved on like the question didn’t matter. And somehow, despite that, Pond still walked straight into it. The job sounded simple enough, and the money… the money was more than he’d ever seen offered in his life.
They told him everything he needed to know about the target , said the guy wasn’t much of a fighter, that he was fragile, easy to handle. Someone like Pond wouldn’t have any trouble at all. And looking at himself , his broad frame, the strength he’d relied on his whole life , it almost felt believable.
So he took it.
At this point, he would’ve taken anything if it meant saving his mother , the one person who had given him everything when he had nothing.
And yet, the doubt never really left him.
It lingered, gnawing at the edges of his thoughts. How did those men know he was desperate for money? Were they watching him before that night? Following him? And more importantly… how did they even know who he was? The questions clawed at his mind, restless and relentless. But every time they threatened to take over, one thought drowned them out -
his mother.
And just like that, he forced himself not to care.
And now he was stuck with a man who was anything but easy to handle , nothing like those guys had promised. Physically, sure. Phuwin was easy to restrain when it came down to strength alone. His body wasn’t built for fighting; it lacked use, lacked training. Whenever Pond locked an arm around him, the resistance would die almost instantly, his movements stilled by sheer force.
But that was where “easy” ended.
Everything else about him was exhausting. The questions never stopped , They were sharp, relentless, hitting Pond one after another like slaps he couldn’t dodge. Phuwin didn’t scare easy, didn’t quiet down, didn’t give in. He fought in every other way he could , straining against the ropes until they dug into his skin, shouting until his voice turned rough, throwing side glances filled with defiance, even stomping his feet despite his legs being bound.
It was maddening.
Pond barely knew anything about him , just a name and a face. That was all those men had given him before sending him off to do their job.
Still, he had to admit one thing , he was relieved they’d at least provided a place to keep him. If that part had been left to Pond, he wouldn’t have had a clue where to take someone without drawing attention. There was no way he could’ve managed this unnoticed. Now, they were deep in the forest, hidden inside a decaying warehouse that reeked of chemicals and mold. The air was thick, stale, clinging to the walls like something alive. It could’ve been quiet. Peaceful, even , If the man tied to the chair would just stop shouting.
Pond turned his head toward him again, already prepared to tell him again to stop struggling. At this rate, bruises would cover his body by morning, and Pond wasn’t about to start playing doctor on top of everything else.
But the moment their eyes met, something in him jolted.
Phuwin wasn’t fighting , Tears were streaming down his face, steady and relentless, like something had finally broken through. They clung to his lashes before slipping down his flushed cheeks, silent but overwhelming. Pond felt his stomach twist sharply. The shouting, the cursing , he’d take that over this any day.
“Hey… don’t cry now,” Pond said, his voice coming out flat, stripped of anything that could be mistaken for comfort.
“I-I’ll kill you,” Phuwin choked out, his voice uneven but laced with raw hatred. “With my bare hands… once I’m out of here. You better remember that.”
Each word hit harder than it should have, tightening the knot in Pond’s chest. And yet, a small, strange relief settled in alongside it but at least he hadn’t broken. Even with tears spilling endlessly from his wide eyes, that sharp, defiant edge in him was still very much alive.
Pond let out a quiet sigh and looked away, unsure of what he was even supposed to say to that. Words felt useless , heavy and out of place here. He pushed himself to his feet instead and walked over to the old fridge sitting in the corner. It hummed faintly, out of sync with the silence of the warehouse. The men had made sure everything was stocked , food, water, basic supplies. Instructions for everything, except this.
He grabbed a cold bottle of water and made his way back, twisting the cap open as he approached. Without saying much, he held it up near Phuwin’s mouth and the reaction was instant. Phuwin jerked his head forward in resistance, almost knocking the bottle out of Pond’s hand. Water sloshed over the rim, spilling down Pond’s arm and splashing onto Phuwin’s once-pristine clothes.
“Get away from me, you bastard. I don’t want it.”Phuwin’s voice shook, but the anger in it burned just as fiercely.
“Just drink it… please,” Pond insisted, the word slipping out before he could stop it. He stood there, frozen in place, caught in a storm of emotions he didn’t know how to handle. Watching someone suffer because of him , it was unfamiliar and wrong. He might be the villain in this story, but somewhere deep down, he’d always imagined himself as something else. Something better.
He tried again. And again.
Three times in total.
Each attempt met with the same resistance , if anything, Phuwin only grew louder, more vicious with every refusal, his curses sharper, fueled by a stubborn energy that refused to die out.
Eventually, Pond’s grip tightened around the bottle before he exhaled, long and tired.
“Fine.”
He stepped back, giving up, and turned away. The distance between them felt necessary now. He walked back to the worn-out couch and dropped onto it, the springs creaking under his weight as he sank into the corner on a distance from Phuwin.
🐱🐶
When Pond opened his eyes, the warehouse ceiling loomed above him, blurred and unfocused. For a moment, he just lay there, disoriented, his mind slow to catch up.
He had fallen asleep.
The realization hit him like a jolt. How the hell had he managed that? How could he sleep , actually sleep , while keeping someone tied up just a few feet away?
The thought made something cold settle in his chest , He really was turning into a monster.
Then it clicked , Phuwin. Pond shot upright, the couch creaking loudly beneath him as his head snapped toward where Phuwin was tied and the moment his eyes landed on him, every hair on his arms stood on end.
Phuwin slumped in the chair, completely unconscious, his body limp. His lips were parted slightly, shallow breaths escaping, and his closed eyes made him look almost fragile. The dried streaks of tears on his cheeks made his bright face look impossibly sad , like all the fight, all the fire, had drained out of him.
Then Pond’s gaze flicked downward and froze. Phuwins right hand was slick with blood , smeared across knuckles and fingers, dark and glaring in the dim light.
Pond’s heart slammed in his chest. He practically lunged forward, crouching beside him, hands trembling as he lifted the bloodied hand to inspect it. One of Phuwin’s fingernails had been torn backwards, bent grotesquely against the tender flesh beneath.
A surge of pain , both physical and gut-wrenching empathy shot through Pond’s body, leaving him momentarily breathless. What the actual hell is wrong with this guy? His mind raced. Phuwin had probably ripped the nail out himself, desperate, fighting the ropes like a wild animal against every restraint Pond had put on him.
Pond’s stomach twisted violently, a sick churn of horror and guilt. The image of it , of Phuwin hurting himself to escape etched itself in his mind, unrelenting.
God. How the hell was he supposed to deal with this? Pond had never once considered anything like this when he’d agreed to the job. The lure of money had clouded every thought, eating away at whatever scraps of morality he had left. He hadn’t paused to wonder about the consequences, hadn’t questioned what might happen if things went wrong. When those men had casually mentioned that the warehouse had medical supplies, he hadn’t even flinched , he should have seen it as a warning, a hint at the kind of danger he was stepping into.
And now… now, crouched beside the unconscious man, cleaning blood from his hand and carefully wrapping a bandage around the torn finger, Pond felt the full weight of his mistake. The mess he’d stumbled into wasn’t just physical , it was moral, emotional and very suffocating.
Even in sleep, Phuwin whined softly, little whimpers escaping his lips that tugged at something Pond hadn’t known he still had: a conscience. The sound made his chest tighten. It was almost as if the man could feel the pain even while unconscious, even when he wasn’t aware of it.
Pond’s hands shook slightly as he worked. He wanted, more than anything, to turn back time, to undo this, to erase the moment he had ever agreed to this madness. But time had moved forward, and there was no undoing what had been done. All he could do now was try to keep the damage from getting worse and somehow survive the guilt that threatened to swallow him whole.
Pond stepped back, momentarily proud of himself , the bandage had turned out better than he expected. But that pride didn’t last long. Without warning, the same bloodied hand shot straight toward his face, and Pond went sprawling backward with a heavy thud. Oh shit… that hurt like hell.
He groaned, rubbing his jaw. He really shouldn’t have even touched the ropes. Phuwin was pure chaos. So damn unpredictable. And yet… Pond had no right to judge him. Not after everything he’d put him through.
As he pushed himself upright, Phuwins furious voice hit him like a whip.
“Get away from me, fucker!” It was raw, unfiltered, filled with the kind of anger that didn’t care about his strength, his size, or anything else. Pond froze, half in awe, half in resignation , this wasn’t going to be easy.
“I-I… your hand was injured,” Pond managed to stammer, his voice tight with frustration. But the moment his eyes caught Phuwin working at the ropes on his other hand, something inside him snapped. Pond lunged forward, gripping the wrist harshly, forcing it back onto the armrest of the chair. His fingers worked quickly, tying it tighter than before, every knot secure, every movement precise. The curses that flew at him like bullets bounced off him; he didn’t even flinch. This guy wasn’t making anything easy. How hard could it be to cooperate?
“Just because I’m being nice” Pond started, his voice clipped, “even playing doctor for you, doesn’t mean you—”
And then Phuwin spat. Right on the tip of Pond’s full lip and it was one heck of a perfect aim. Pond froze for a fraction of a second before his hand shot up, wiping away the spit, tasting the sharp, bitter sting of humiliation and fury. He took a slow breath, trying to contain the storm rising inside him. This wasn’t just a fight of strength anymore , it was a war of wills and Phuwin wasn’t giving an inch.
“I didn’t ask for shit from you! Let me go!” Phuwin’s voice was thick with sleep, but the intensity behind it was enough to make Pond’s own anger spike. Every word was sharp, laced with raw fury, and it hit harder than any physical blow.
Pond stepped forward, gripping his jaw firmly. He knew he was leaving fingerprints , maybe even bruises but he didn’t care. His nails dug into the flesh as he held him in place. Phuwin hissed sharply, eyes squeezing shut for a brief second, but it didn’t stop him from resisting. Phuwin’s pink lips had formed a stubborn pout, and fresh tears glistened at the corners of his eyes, threatening to spill over.
“Stop being such a pain. I probably want to get out of here more than you do,” Pond said, voice low, almost a growl. His eyes bore into Phuwin’s, piercing, demanding compliance.
But Phuwin didn’t flinch. Instead, he returned the gaze with equal fire, equal defiance. Pond could feel it , he was furious, and he was crying. Crying, yes, but not from helplessness. This was hatred, pure and unfiltered, lashing out at everything and everyone around him.
When Pond felt the warmth of tears on his hand, he instinctively recoiled, as if the touch burned him. His eyes softened instantly, the hardness he’d carried moments ago melting away. Crying again? The sight twisted something deep in his chest. God… what was he even supposed to do?
“Hey… please. Okay? Please,” Pond murmured, his voice gentler this time, trembling slightly despite himself. His hands itched to reach out, to brush the tears off Phuwin’s flushed cheeks, maybe even wrap him in a protective hug , but no. No, stupid thoughts. He wasn’t here to be anyone’s comfort.
Shoving those impulses aside, he forced himself to speak again, hoping his words would carry some grounding force. “Let’s eat something, okay? Please.” He tried to make it sound like a suggestion, not an order , something simple, manageable.
Phuwin shook his head slightly, shoulders trembling, a sob escaping despite his efforts to hold it back. “I… I don’t want to.” His voice cracked mid-word, and Pond could see him clenching his fists, jaw tight, as if trying to will the tears back into hiding.
Pond let out a long, weary sigh. Why was this so damn hard? He sank to the floor, settling just inches from Phuwin’s tied legs. Slowly, carefully, his hands worked at the ropes, loosening them, pulling them apart. The bindings gave way, and Phuwin let out a low groan as blood rushed back into his numb limbs, his body shivering at the sudden relief.
“You eat with me, and I’ll untie the ones on your hands too,” Pond offered, his voice calm but cautious. He knew the risk , this was a dangerous promise. One misstep, one show of trust, and it could cost him everything he was supposed to gain in the next four weeks.
“How am I supposed to eat if my hands are tied?” Phuwin asked, firm, incredulous but there was something in the way he said it, a spark that made Pond’s lips twitch. At least he was considering it.
“I’ll feed you,” Pond replied, eyes meeting his.
“Excuse me?”
“No other options, champ,” Pond said.
“Do not call me that again,” Phuwin shot back, voice sharp.
Pond didn’t respond. He had already made his way toward the “kitchen” corner of the dingy warehouse, the flickering overhead light casting long shadows across cracked tiles. Pulling out the only plates he could find, he portioned some rice and curry, the aroma strangely comforting in the stale, musty air. He popped it into the microwave, listening to the hum as it heated, the scent growing stronger and mingling with the smell of mold and chemicals lingering in the corners.
When he returned, Pond noticed something almost imperceptible , Phuwin was… calmer. His legs stretched out tentatively, rolling and flexing as if testing freedom again. But Pond didn’t feel relieved. Calmness from him wasn’t necessarily trust; it could be a trap, a pause before the next storm. Still, he shrugged the thought aside and focused on the task at hand.
He carried a stool closer, sitting down with deliberate care, careful not to startle him. The curry and rice smelled warm and earthy, a small slice of normality in the chaos. Pond scooped a spoonful and offered it gently, watching as Phuwin’s dark eyes flickered with suspicion.
“How do I know this isn’t poisoned?” Phuwin asked, voice wary, cutting through the quiet.
Pond’s eyes snapped up, but he didn’t blame him. He lifted a spoonful to his own mouth, taking a careful bite, chewing slowly, swallowing, and holding Phuwin’s gaze the whole time.
Phuwin scoffed, the corner of his mouth twitching in disdain, but he didn’t speak again.
The plate was clean , every last grain gone and Pond held the water bottle to Phuwin’s lips, watching as he drained it in one long gulp. A short, unrestrained laugh escaped him before he could stop it.
“What?” Phuwin asked, blinking up at him, still suspicious even after eating.
“You… you were acting really tough for someone who was starving this badly,” Pond said, shaking his head with a small smirk.
Before he could process it, a sharp pain shot through his calf. Phuwin had kicked him, pointed polished shoe connecting with surprising strength. Pond staggered back, but another laugh slipped out, raw and amused.
“Guess the food gave you enough energy to curse and fight me again,” Pond said, shaking his head, and started to turn away.
“Hey… hey! Where the fuck do you think you’re going?!” Phuwin yelled, voice rising, footsteps thudding against the floor. “You said you’d untie my hands if I ate!”
Pond stopped, raising an eyebrow, calm as ever. “Give me one valid reason you’d believe the man who kidnapped you right after your prestigious piano lessons?”
“Are you fucking kidding me right now?” Phuwin barked, voice cracking with frustration.
“Not at all, champ,” Pond said smoothly, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. And with that, he walked away, leaving the curses, stomps, and angry yells behind. For the first time in what felt like forever, Pond allowed himself a small sigh of relief. Phuwin had eaten. That was enough for now.
🐶🐱
There wasn’t a single damn window in the warehouse, and Pond had no idea whether it was day or night without checking his phone which, of course, had a cracked screen that barely displayed anything. By the time he glanced at it, it was 7:30 in the morning.
He had tied Phuwin’s legs again after seeing him collapse into an exhausted sleep late last night. Pond had wanted , more than he cared to admit , to just untie him completely, let him rest on the worn-out couch instead of that filthy chair. Phuwin looked like he needed it, like sleep could finally ease the tension and pain coiling through his body.
But Pond knew better. He knew how fast the situation could spiral if he let his guard down, and how volatile Phuwin could be. So, despite the ache in his chest at seeing him so vulnerable, he had tightened the ropes carefully. Even monsters sometimes had to make the practical choice.
“I-I need to pee,” Phuwin muttered, his voice barely above a whisper, as if admitting it was shameful but Pond heard every word.
He straightened, stepping closer, eyes scanning Phuwin’s face. The strain was impossible to miss , The flushed cheeks, tight jaw, furrowed brows. If he didn’t get to a bathroom soon, Pond knew it could get serious. Why didn’t he say something sooner? Pond thought, irritation flaring briefly. Then the reality hit , how was he supposed to take him without untying him?
There was no other option. Pond had already loosened all the ropes but now he gripped Phuwin firmly from behind, his arms locking around him, nudging him to walk. The tension in Phuwin’s body was palpable; every step was a battle.
When they reached the door, Phuwin tried to wrench free, squirming and cursing.
“Let go, fucker! Or do you have some kink to watch me pee?” His words were sharp, laced with humiliation, and Pond felt his ears heat up instantly.
“I’m going with you,” Pond said firmly, keeping a steady hold.
“Are you insane or what?!” Phuwin spun his head toward him, struggling against the grip, panic and fury mixing in his eyes.
“I’m either going in with you, or you’re peeing in your pants. Your call,” Pond replied, voice calm but unwavering, letting the man feel the weight of the choice. Phuwin huffed angrily, but stepped inside.
When Phuwin was finally done and they returned, Pond carefully tied his legs back to the chair, the ropes snug but not cruel.
“P-please… don’t tie my hands,” Phuwin almost whispered, his voice raw and trembling, and Pond’s stomach twisted painfully.
From the moment he’d pressed the chloroform-soaked tissue to Phuwin’s face behind the building where he took his piano lessons, through the frantic, nerve-wracking car ride , Phuwin kicking and punching him in the back seat the moment he woke up , he had never heard him sound like this. He sounded vulnerable and afraid.
The words cut through Pond, sharper than any punch, leaving a hollow ache in his chest. His own hands paused mid-motion, heart thudding. What am I doing with this guy? he wondered, a knot of guilt and confusion tightening in his stomach.
“I can’t do that, Phuwin,” Pond said firmly, his voice steady but heavy with restraint. Despite the plea, despite the vulnerability in Phuwin’s eyes, he moved with practiced precision, tying his hands securely.
The ropes bit into Phuwin’s wrists, and Pond felt the sting of guilt flare again, sharp and unwelcome. He looked away for a moment, forcing himself to focus on the task rather than the hurt in the man’s gaze.
I have to… it’s the only way, Pond told himself, though the words offered little comfort.
“We only have the tons of soggy curry they left, but I can make you something with the little supplies they gave us,” Pond said, finally stepping back from him. His voice was neutral, careful. Phuwin had already washed his face and brushed his teeth, and Pond had done the same earlier , so breakfast was… inevitable. “Tell me what you want.”
Phuwin ignored the offer. His dark eyes, still rimmed with fatigue and shadows from last night, locked onto Pond. “Who gave us these things?”
Pond froze, caught off guard. I can’t tell him. He forced a shrug, trying to keep his expression neutral. “You just tell me what you feel like eating.”
“No. You kidnapped me to… to take care of me? Why? Who are you? Why are you doing this?” Phuwin’s voice sharpened, each question laced with raw fear and accusation. “Do you even know what will happen once someone finds out about this place?”
Pond’s stomach twisted. Why did he sound like Pond himself would be killed?
“My father… he’ll shoot you,” Phuwin added abruptly, as if reading the thoughts Pond hadn’t dared speak aloud.
Pond’s brow furrowed, heart thudding in his chest. The warehouse suddenly felt smaller, heavier, as the weight of the man’s words pressed down on him.
“Why? You some scholar’s son or something?” Pond asked, forcing his tone casual, trying to convince himself he wasn’t rattled by the words.
“You have to be kidding me if you don’t know whose son I am,” Phuwin snapped, his voice sharp, eyes narrowing with disbelief.
“I… I’m the Tangsakyuen heir,” Phuwin finally admitted, his voice clipped, almost defensive. Pond blinked, trying to process it, but the name didn’t register.
“And… who are they?” he asked, frowning, genuinely lost.
Phuwin’s eyes widened, incredulous. “Are you kidding me?”
“What?? I don’t know,” Pond said quickly, hands raised in mock surrender.
“The politician… Tang Bae. I’m his son,” Phuwin spat out, his words sharp, each one landing like a hammer.
A bell went off in Pond’s mind. Wait. The son of the politician everyone talked about? His stomach dropped, twisting painfully. What had he done? None of the men who hired him had ever mentioned this. He wasn’t just in trouble , he was sitting in the middle of a storm that could crush him from every angle.
“Finally caught on?” Phuwin said, voice laced with smugness, though exhaustion still lingered in his features.
Pond didn’t respond. He was already stepping away, back straight and his mind racing. Pulling out his cracked phone, he swiped hurriedly, fingers trembling. He needed to make a call , fast. Every second wasted now could cost him everything. The weight of what he’d stumbled into pressed down on him like a physical force, and he could feel the air around him suddenly tight.