Lines We Cross ||Front Man x Reader||

"I'd rather rot in this shithole than be a part of your sick little games," I snapped, glaring at him. "You're no better than the people who started this shit. In fact, you're worse because you know how it feels, and you still choose to keep it going."

The front man's mask tilted slightly, like he was trying to study me through the emotionless void of that damned face cover. "I expected that answer," he replied, too calmly for my liking. "That's why you're staying here until you change your mind. And believe me, Y/N, you will change your mind."

I scoffed, yanking my arms against the guards who were holding me. "Yeah? You gonna starve me? Torture me? Go ahead. I've been through worse."

But instead of getting angry or yelling back, he just let out a quiet sigh. It fucking pissed me off more than anything. Like he was disappointed in me. "It doesn't have to come to that," he said, turning away like I wasn't even worth his time anymore. "You're stubborn. I admire that about you. But it's going to get you killed one day."

As he walked away, he motioned for the guards to take me... somewhere. "Keep her under watch. Make sure she's... comfortable," he added. Comfortable, my ass.

The guards dragged me out of that slick black room and into another sterile, soulless cell, practically throwing me onto the cold floor like I wasn't even human. I bit back a groan as my knees hit the ground, glaring up at them, but they didn't give a shit. They just left, slamming the metal door behind them like punctuation.

I sat there, fuming, my hands clenched into fists so tight I thought my nails might break the skin. No food, no water, no fucking answers. Just endless silence, broken only by my own breathing and the occasional shuffle of guards outside. I paced the tiny room like a caged animal, my mind racing. I refused to let them win, to break me, but fuck, it was getting hard to keep my cool.

Hours passed. At least, I think it was hours. Time felt weird here, stretched out and suffocating. My stomach growled loudly, and my throat felt like sandpaper, but I wasn't about to give them the satisfaction of asking for anything. I was pissed, tired, and hungry, and I wanted nothing more than to strangle the man behind all this shit.

Eventually, the door opened with a loud creak, and there he was: the Front Man. He stepped inside like he owned the fucking world, his mask catching the light and making him look even more inhuman. I was already halfway to my feet, ready to beat his ass with whatever strength I had left.

"Don't," he said, his voice calm but firm, as if he were scolding a child. That just pissed me off more.

"Don't what?" I snapped, my voice dripping with sarcasm. "Don't beat the shit out of you? Don't fucking scream in your face about how much of a piece of shit you are? What exactly do you want me to not do, huh?"

He ignored my outburst completely, which only made me angrier. He pulled out a chair from the table in the center of the room and sat down like we were about to have a friendly little chat. The audacity.

"You've made your choice," he said simply, his modulated voice still as calm and cold as ever. "But I'd like to explain a few things to you before you make up your mind for good."

"Oh, fuck off," I spat, crossing my arms as I leaned back against the wall. "I've made up my mind. I'd rather die than be a part of your twisted circus."

"Suit yourself," he replied, completely unfazed. He leaned back in his chair, his gloved hands resting on the table in front of him. "But I think you'll want to hear this."

I rolled my eyes, but deep down, I was curious. Not that I'd ever admit that to him. "Fine. Talk."

He didn't react. Instead, he tilted his head slightly, as if sizing me up. "I was once in your position," he began, his tone almost conversational. "A player in the games. Just like you."

That made me pause. My brows furrowed as I stared at him, trying to figure out if he was bullshitting me. "You expect me to believe that?"

"It's the truth," he said, leaning forward slightly. "I was desperate, broke, and out of options. Just like everyone else who ends up here. And, like you, I fought my way through the games. I survived."

I folded my arms across my chest, refusing to soften even a little. "Good for you. You survived. And then what? You decided to sell your soul and run this shitshow instead of tearing it down?"

His gloved fingers tapped lightly against the table, a slow, deliberate rhythm. "When I won, I thought I'd be free. But freedom isn't what they offer the winner. Instead, I was given a choice just like you."

"Yeah, well, you should've picked the latter," I snapped. "Would've saved a lot of lives."

For the first time, his mask tilted down slightly, like he was actually thinking about my words. "Perhaps," he said after a moment. "But at the time, I convinced myself that running the games would allow me to change them. Make them... fairer. I also lost all faith in humanity, so I seriously didn't care"

I let out a bitter laugh. "Fairer? Are you fucking kidding me? You think there's anything fair about what you do here? About forcing people to kill each other for entertainment?"

His hands stilled, and his voice dropped a notch, almost as if he were trying to sound regretful. "It doesn't matter now. Whatever justification I had back then is meaningless. Over time, I became what I hated. I lost... everything."

"Oh, boo-fucking-hoo," I said, rolling my eyes. "You want pity? You want me to feel sorry for you because you 'lost everything'? Guess what, asshole, so has everyone else here. You're not special."

There was a long pause, and I could feel the tension in the room thickening like a storm cloud. He let out a quiet sigh, his shoulders relaxing slightly. "I didn't expect pity from you," he said softly. "But I thought you deserved the truth."

I scoffed, shaking my head. "Truth? You wouldn't know the truth if it slapped you in the face. All you care about is power, control, and keeping this sick game alive."

He didn't argue. Instead, he stood up slowly, his movements deliberate. "I'll make this simple," he said, his voice colder now. "You don't have to join me. But I'd like you to do something for me. Something small."

I glared at him, my fists clenching at my sides. "The fuck do you think would make me want to do anything for you?"

He didn't answer right away. Instead, he reached up and slowly began to remove his mask.

I froze, my heart pounding in my chest as I watched him. The mask came off inch by inch, revealing the face underneath. The face I thought I'd never see again.

And then it hit me.

I knew him.

"Holy shit," I whispered, my voice barely audible. 

A/N~ Cliffhanger eh??? This is where the real enemies to lovers would be starting. Oh my days you guys, I came back from a girls night and I'm sooo tried, but I love keeping my readers happy so enjoy reading this! P.S Thank you everybody for the love and support <3