Lines We Cross ||Front Man x Reader||

The guards didn't speak a word.

They just dragged me by both arms down a colorful corridor, feet skidding and slipping. My shoes scraped against the ground, leaving behind streaks of resistance I couldn't stop from trying. 

We turned a corner. Another. Then they opened a heavy, black steel door and shoved me inside.

The room was pitch black.

I shouted. "Where the hell is Jun-ho?!"

No answer. Just the metallic click of the door slamming behind me, sealing me in with darkness. I barely had time to get my bearings before a spotlight snapped on overhead—bright and sharp like a knife. It pinned me in place, like I was on stage. A single chair sat in the center of the room under the light. It felt theatrical, like a sick performance.

Before I could react, the guards were on me again, forcing me into the chair. Thick leather straps locked my arms and legs in place. My heart was pounding out of my fucking chest.

"What is this?! Is this another fucking game?!" I screamed, yanking at the restraints. "You sons of bitches—!"

They didn't respond.

When they were done strapping me in place I was left alone sitting in the dark room with one spotlight above me. That was until... the rest of the lights slowly began to turn on.

And what I saw made my blood run cold.

The room in front of me transformed—bright red walls, like a twisted version of a game show set. There was a small stage, decorated like it belonged to a fucked-up kid's carnival. Bright colors. Ropes. Curtains.

And Jun-ho was standing right in the center of it.

My breath hitched.

He was gagged, a gag piece tied tightly around his mouth. His eyes were wide and panicked. Worse, there was a fucking rope around his neck. A noose. Tied, tight, and ready. His hands were bound behind his back, and he stood on what looked like a trap door.

"No," I whispered. "No no no no—what the fuck—"

I thrashed in the chair. The restraints didn't budge. "LET HIM GO!"

Jun-ho locked eyes with me. He tried to shake his head, trying to calm me down even though he was the one about to be fucking executed. I couldn't even hear him. The glass barrier, the distance, the terror. It was all swallowing me whole.

Then, with a loud electrical buzz, a giant screen flickered on in front of me.

A black screen with white letters. And then that voice. That robotic, calm, emotionless announcer I'd learned to hate so fucking much.

"Welcome, Player 455."

My entire body tensed. I knew that voice. That dead, synthetic tone.

"You have been chosen for a 2-player challenge."

The screen switched to a stylized digital image of Jun-ho, a stick figure hanging from a noose. Then it displayed a timer: 10:00 in bold red numbers.

"The rules are simple. You will play a classic game: Hangman. Your goal is to guess the words."

"You will be given three words to guess."

"Every incorrect letter will speed up the countdown. Every failed word costs you one minute. If the timer reaches zero... your partner will be hanged."

"Begin."

A fucking game. They were making me play a fucking game while Jun-ho stood there on a trap door, with a fucking noose around his neck.

My throat closed up. I screamed again. "ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?!"