Twisted Affection || Frontman/001

chapter 9

"Yeah, because I agree with what you're saying. Worrying takes you nowhere." I say.

„Just stay focused, and you'll be fine, Y/n." He says, putting his hand on mine.

The touch doesn't even startle me anymore, and I realize that I'm starting to get used to all this. Slight touches here and there, bantering with each other... It's starting to seem natural.

And I like it. So much.

A small smile starts tugging at the corners of my mouth. „It almost sounds like you've done this before..."

„Maybe... maybe not." He says, shrugging, letting the mystery float in the air around us. "Or maybe I just know how to stay calm when everything around me is falling apart."

I chuckle, the sound low and amused. "Must be nice. I think I might get bored if things weren't so... chaotic. I usually create problems for myself too, just to have something interesting going on in my life." I say.

His gaze lingers on me for a moment, his smirk creeping up just a little. "I'm sure you're good at keeping things interesting." He says.

I arch my eyebrow, a playful challenge in my eyes.

"You think so?" I ask.

He leans in just a little, his eyes flickering to my lips for a split second, before returning to my eyes. "Oh, I know so. Don't think I haven't noticed the way you handle yourself." He says, his voice dropping to a near-whisper.

I find myself leaning in a little too, lost in the moment and hypnotised by his voice. "And how do I handle myself, Young-il?" I ask.

"Impressively good. In a way that impresses me like no woman ever did." He says.

Oh fuckkkk. This conversation needs to end right now, or I'm going to start losing oxygen. The tension between us is thick, so thick that you could cut it out with a knife. Now I'm 100% sure there's something between us... But what? And do I even want it to be something?

Our moment gets interrupted by gunshots. The sound scares me at first, but I remember not to care. More money.

"Well, I guess they didn't make it through..." I tell Young-il, trying to shake off the tension from earlier.

He doesn't look away from me for one second, his gaze intense and unwavering. It's clear that he's not done with our conversation and whatever happened between us, which made me swallow the lump that formed in my throat. The way he stared at me, and my lips, made it impossible to ignore the unspoken desire hanging between us.

"We're all going to die now! Because you all chose to stay!" Someone from the crowd screamed.

I roll my eyes at this. Weaklings, I whisper.

•••

The games have been brutal, a whirlwind of triumph and failure. Players had come and gone, some dying, others celebrating their victories, but now the arena was quieter, emptier. It's just us left.

Ddakji came first, and I win from the first turn, the slapping of the folded papers echoing sharply in the arena.

A faint smile crossed my face, proud of myself for pulling it off on the first try, but just as I was adjusting my position, I slipped. My balance wavered, and I fell hard on my knee. A sharp gasp escaped my lips as pain shot through my leg.

"Ah—shit." I hissed through gritted teeth, immediately clutching my leg.

"You okay?" Gi-hun asked cautiously, his brow furrowed.

Before I could respond, Young-il stepped forward, a look of worry all over his face.

"Let me see," he said gently, crouching down in front of me.

"It's nothing." I muttered, trying to brush him off. "We don't have time for this."

"It's not nothing, Y/n." He said, running a hand through his hair. "Okay, just try to stay off it as much as you can. We'll deal with it as soon as we're done with this game." He says, a frustrated look on his face.

The group moved on to biseokchigi, Player 390's game. He also won from the first try, making us all scream out from the victory. Young-il stayed behind me the whole time, a solid support for me to lean against, in order to keep weight off my injured leg.

Gong-gi, led by Player 388, brought a tense silence as he tossed and caught the stones between his fingers carefully. Won.

Young-il's turn with the Spinning Top was unlike the others. He stepped up, his movements calculated and deliberate. With a smooth, practiced motion, he wound the string around the top. He tossed the top onto the floor with a sharp flick... but instead of spinning forward as he'd planned, it lurched backward, skidding erratically across the floor. We didn't panic, because we still have enough time left, as we started walking backwards to get the spinning top back. He tried it another time, failing again. His frustration surged, and before anyone can understand what he wants to do, he starts slapping himself.

"You goddamn idiot! You're an idiot!" He screams at himself.

I catch his hands before he can continue, stopping him.

"Stop." My voice was quiet, but there was an undeniable authority to it.

Young-il paused mid-movement, looking up at me, his expression a mix of surprise and frustration. "You're not gonna get it right by beating yourself up. You're making it worse. Just try again." I tell him.

He stares at me for a beat, still breathing heavily, his hand hovering near the top. "I—" he started, but I raised my hand to stop him.

"Take a breath and try it again, Young-il. We all mess up. It's just a game." I say.

He calms down and nods, trying again.

And then—it happened. The top stayed steady, spinning perfectly, its rhythm unbroken.

"Yes!" I scream. "We have to hurry up though. Let's go, Player 456. We can do it, I know we can."

Everyone seemed to stop breathing as Gi-hun stepped forward, starting to play the final game: jegi. He was doing good, until his foot slightly slipped and he almost fell down. But with the help of Young-il, who was standing behind him now, he managed to pull it off right on time and we reached the finish line before the time could run out.