Chapter Text
"I heard the first ten knocks!"
Hoseok knocks aggressively three more times and jiggles the handle for effect. "You've been in there for an hour, hyung! My bladder's about to burst, I'm serious!"
"Your bladder is always about to burst. Go use the public toilet."
"The public toilet?" Hoseok whines in disbelief. "You wouldn't set foot in a public toilet!"
All he gets in reply is muffled snickering, and he's about to start pounding on the door again, the pressure on his (admittedly tiny) bladder starting to make him panic, when a hand grabs his wrist, twisting him around.
"There's bathrooms at the end of every hall in the lower floors," Namjoon says as he drags Hoseok towards the door of their hotel room. "And you could eat kimbap off any toilet seat in this hotel, okay? Really, it's embarrassing how spoiled you are," he finishes in a teasing tone as they reach the door.
Namjoon is looking at him with a fond smile that only ever gets that soft when he's been drinking.
And drinking they most certainly have been for the past four hours since getting back from their long (and final) day of shooting.
Hoseok had practiced for his dance solo for weeks and weeks on end, and still it didn't end up being good enough. When they all gathered around the screen to review the final take, Hoseok made sure to grin and clap and congratulate everyone on a job well done.
Even after all these years of backbreaking hard work and careful molding, Hoseok still stands out as the weak link. Never right, always needing to be improved. His voice, his body, his face, his attitude, his personality.
Maybe, sometimes, when he's having a good day and his body flows and snaps and twists so perfectly to the beat, he thinks that maybe he actually is the best dancer in the group. But he's supposed to be, that's the whole point of him, so when he sometimes watches Jimin and Jungkook execute dance moves with a precision only he used to be capable of, a heavy, choking panic rises from deep in his stomach and up to his throat.
He lowers their worth as a group. He knows that. He's learned to live with it.
Hoseok rolls his eyes and returns Namjoon's smile, but it's strained — mainly due to the fact that his bladder really is about to burst and he can barely keep his legs still.
"Okay, okay, whatever, I'm seriously about to die," he says, snatching his wrist from Namjoon's hold and pulling the door open. "If I survive this and come back, I'm ordering room service and you're gonna eat it off the toilet seat I used!" he says, jutting a finger into Namjoon's chest. "But don't worry, my aim's perfect," he grins before literally sprinting in the direction of the elevator.
He presses the button and waits, his body literally vibrating.
"Ah, fuck," he breathes as the number above the elevator door finally starts moving, but it's so slow, too slow. "Come on, come ooon."
He turns around, bouncing on his feet as his eyes scan the hallway helplessly—for a flower pot or something, anything, any solution, any— aha! The stairs! Yes, the stairs are a thing!
You really are spoiled, Hoseok, he thinks, sprinting over and bursting through the door. Nearly flying over the first set of stairs, he uses the rail to swing his body around 180 degrees and flying over the second set.
There's bathrooms in the lower floors, Namjoon had said, but how low?
He decides to go for a couple more floors.
One more, two more, three more.
He's really starting to get the hang of it, he thinks to himself, as his feet only graze the stairs before landing so gracefully he barely makes a sound.
If it weren't for his painfully full bladder, he'd probably even be having fun.
Okay, just one more, and then he'll check if there's a bathroom on that floor.
He lands a bit clumsy this time, unable to stop the momentum that sends him crashing into the wall and finally landing on his ass.
"Shit," he hisses, legs weak as he tries to stand up without fucking pissing himself.
Boy, those would be some headlines, he's thinking to himself with a sobering shake of his head—
—when he suddenly senses movement in the corner of his eyes.
His head shoots up, and he can already feel his lips twitch, always ready to pull up and part into a disarming smile whenever he's not alone.
The smile dies instantly.
Because this is not a smiling sort of situation.
Hoseok has smiled in many non-smiling situations before, but this one is really, really not the smiling kind. At all.
The owner of the pair of eyes staring back at him seems to agree, because Hoseok is pretty sure he's never seen a face more devoid of expression.
Hoseok is fairly certain there is an unmoving body laying at the stranger's feet, but he can't move his eyes, he just can't.
After five seconds that stretch into eternity, the dark-haired, dead-faced man drops his eyes from Hoseok and towards his own feet, and Hoseok's automatically follow, lowering until he's staring at... At...
It's a body.
It's really, seriously a dead body.
With — blood. There's blood.
And a knife.
The man is holding a knife. And he's—
—moving.
Shit, he's moving, so suddenly, coming up the stairs, right towards Hoseok, and he's jolted out of the trance by the sudden surge of fear that seizes his body.
It feels so primal, like he's a mouse, or a rabbit, or some other grass-eating rodent, scrambling pathetically to get away from the predator trying to corner it.
But before he can even plant his feet on the floor to push himself up, the man is already so close, so so close, and as his arm swings with his last step, a drop of blood flings off the knife and lands on Hoseok's foot, seeping into his sock.
Hoseok's stares at the spot with wide eyes, the nerve endings exploding throughout his entire body, like he's anticipating the knife to plunge into every inch of him.
He feels more hyperaware and exposed than he does with millions of people watching him.
He wants to cover his exposed neck, wants to curl tightly into a ball but he can't move, can't even squeeze his eyes shut, can't do anything but stay in that helpless position, hunched over, head lowered and staring down at the red spot on his white sock.
And Hoseok knows he's a coward, always was, but this has got to be the most mind-numbingly terrifying situation that's ever happened to anyone ever, except maybe the guy that's lying just a few feet away, and Hoseok's mind finds the time to wonder whether his own blood will flow down the stairs and into the red pool, like a river joining into an ocean, and—
"Hey!"
Hoseok's body jerks, and before he has time to register that the voice is coming from too far away to belong to the predator, he's being yanked up violently, an iron grip digging into his forearm and twisting him around.
A grip in his hair forces his head to move back, chin raising up and exposing his throat.
Everything is happening so fast, but Hoseok knows before the cool, sharp edge even touches his skin, knows it's the knife because that's what he's been anticipating the entire time, just waiting for it to inevitably touch against some part of his body before sinking in—
"Hey! Whoa, hey, don't- don't—" the large man standing at the top of the stairs above them is holding his arms out, waving helplessly. "D-don't—"
"Throw your phone over."
The words are spoken right into the back of his neck, and Hoseok shudders before freezing completely, the situation catching up with him.
His ears almost hurt from how he's suddenly straining them, trying to sense the movement of every molecule of air behind him to pinpoint the killer's exact position.
He's hiding, Hoseok realizes. Using him as cover.
When the phone lands on the ground with an echoing bang, Hoseok's body jerks. The knife eases off his throat just in time, moving away enough to compensate for his sudden movement.
Then it's pressing right back, firmer than before, and the next words are spoken more to the side, towards his ear.
"Don't move."
The grip in his hair loosens gradually before disappearing completely, and Hoseok immediately struggles to keep his head in the same position.
He can hear the man behind him dig through his pockets, then there's a jiggling, metalic sound and then another loud, echoing noise as something lands next to the man above them.
The hand is back in his head, pulling him away from the knife and Hoseok squeezes his eyes, swallows around the lump in his throat and it makes his skin push into the knife even more. There's noise from above them again, and more noise, and Hoseok just squeezes his eyes shut even harder, and then—
"I hear your voice, I gut him."
The words echo and then there's complete silence.
"Yeah. Yeah, man, I- I won't—" comes a hushed reply, and Hoseok feels relieved the words weren't meant for him, until he realizes that's worse, that he's the him in 'gut him'.
He forces his eyes open, sees the man sitting on the ground above him, one arm handcuffed to the rail and the other reaching out towards him, like he's trying to calm him down.
But he's not trying to calm Hoseok down, he's trying to calm down the man hiding behind him, calm him down so he won't- so he won't- fucking gut him!
Hoseok wants to squeeze his eyes shut again, wants to hide the only way he currently can, but suddenly he's being moved again, tripping over his knees as he's pulled sideways.
The moment they're out of view, he's pushed forward, nearly sent tumbling down the flight of stairs. He catches himself by the rail and stops, but is immediately shoved again.
"Walk."
Hoseok walks, wants nothing more than to walk, put as much distance as possible between himself and the footsteps behind him.
Both of his hands are still holding the rail, sliding as he makes his way down as fast as possible on legs made of jelly — but not fast enough for the killer who shoves at his back again, and Hoseok almost whimpers as he wills his legs to move faster.
By the time they reach the end, Hoseok's dizzy.
He's gripping the very end of the rail now, staring ahead, eyes blown wide with fear and anxiety. The last floor. What now? What is he supposed to—
Fingers curl around his wrist and yank him forward before he has time to fall into a full panic, and he's stumbling again, trying to keep up with the pace.
He wants to look up but he can't, won't risk looking into those eyes again, so he stares at the pale hand that's crushing the bones of his left hand.
They're walking so fast that everything is a blur, and then they're stopping just as suddenly, and he's being pulled and yanked and pushed again until he loses his balance.
The back of his legs hit something hard and he falls backwards over it, landing on his back. Hoseok realizes it's a car, even with his eyes squeezed shut, can tell by the smell.
His legs are lifted and unceremoniously shoved into him, and with a loud bang that vibrates all around him, he's in complete darkness.