Addicted To You | NCT Gang AU ✔️

Chapter 31

Moon Taeil

The last few weeks have been painfully slow; my memories fade in and out as I wait to die. It's depressing, but there's nothing I can do to enjoy myself with this giant tumour in my head. I pull my hair, leaning over the front of my chair and scream in agony. When will this end?

The constant feeling of discomfort is beginning to take a toll on my behaviour. My coldness towards the gang is starting to show, and I don't know how long I'll last before they find out. I know I told Taeyong to tell them otherwise, but who would believe that someone like me would die so honourably?

I pull myself up, grudgingly walking over to my bed before slumping my body down. The surge of ringing continues as I try to empty my head. It stops. Peace, at last. I take a deep breath, wiping the running sweat off of my chin and smile in what feels like forever. But that only lasts for a pitiful few seconds, the ringing returns, louder than ever, as I'm reminded of Taeyong's master plan. It was genius, who would've guessed?

I sigh once again, preparing myself for another painful attempt of comfort. The tears stream down my eyes as I try to grasp hold of reality. I sink in and sink out, vision slowly failing and fall to the ground.

THUMP!

Park Sooyoung

I peer over at Sicheng; he seems so focused, so concentrated. His virtual chess game was starting to quicken up in pace, a simper painted across his face as he leaps up in victory. He laughs to himself, jumping up and down like a child, "Sooyoung, I did it!" He yells, "I finally beat the difficult level!" I can only sigh; both hands on my cheeks, all he's been doing is playing online.

I stare holes into the floor, trying my best not to seem unamused, but he gets the hint. His face softens, lifting my hands up and slowly massaging them. "We should go out on a date," he speaks, my face instantly lifts as a smile tugs at my lips. "Really?" I ask as if I've never been on a date before.  "Yup, I realised that we hadn't had our first date," he chuckles. "Go get ready babes, we've got a fun night ahead of us," he smiles. I can only return the look, I rush off to my bedroom, searching for the perfect dress. I look over and under, mixing and matching and, eventually, I find it.

The perfect dress. It's a dark shade of purple, nearly black, skin-tight and off the shoulders. It's not too short, but enough is revealed, clinging on to me in all the right places. I know that this will blow him away. I match them with a pair of black stilettos, Louboutins. I keep my makeup simple, not wanting to look like a complete escort in front of him. Then it hits me, the sudden realisation of what I once was—a stripper. I was lucky, lucky enough to escape. But why do I feel like shit? Is it because I'm not good enough, or because he's using me? Does he do this with all of his dolls? The panic attacks me like a tsunami wave, flooding all of my thoughts in its terrifying glory.

I manage to pull myself together, fixing the smudged mascara and make my way downstairs. His house was big, built to cater to many. Its size was something I've never been entirely used to. I walk to the living room, but he's not there. After five minutes of waiting and tapping my foot, I search around, looking for him. The whole house feels abandoned. Why do I suddenly feel alone? The pit in my stomach continues to grow as my anxiety takes over. I take a deep breath and make my way to the 'forbidden' part of the house—the part where he keeps his dolls. Whenever I mention them, he changes the topic. Why does he keep them?

I've tried my best to forget about it, but it always lingers at the back of my mind, reminding me that I'm not the only one. I hesitantly walk over towards the large marble door, placing my hand on the stone-cold, golden handle. It takes me a few seconds to open the door, contemplating whether or not I should go in. No, you need to know!

Like a change of season, the contrast between my part of the house and his becomes obvious. I try my best not to cry, looking at all of the beautiful women walking around wearing practically nothing. It seems like any man's heaven down here, where flawless models prance around. My breathing grows even more substantial as I continue to walk through, gaining a lot of attention and unnecessary comments. "Who's this whore?" sniggers one.
"She calls that a dress?" giggles another. The comments and stares continue until I see what I came looking for.

It's Sicheng, with a doll on each leg, playing with them. My heart drops to the floor, and my soul completely sucked out of my body. I stand frozen, mouth slightly agape as I watch him shoo them off. The whole room stares, each one of his dolls were looking at us, smiling to themselves. Whispers make their way around the room as they continue to stare. My lips tremble, but nothing comes out, only tears. "It's not what it looks like," he speaks. I continue to stare, jaw clenching and unclenching, fists held tightly, taking each deep breath at a time. The lump in my throat makes the experience even worse, a sore bruise-like ache.

No matter how much I want to believe him, I can't. He won't change; he can't even change his facial expression to lie. That smug face was still wiped all over his face, angering me even more. He gets up and lifts his palm to my face, but I violently slap it off. "GET OFF!" I shriek, silencing the whispers surrounding the dolls.
 "Come on, Sooy-" he pleads.
"No!" I shout, "you fucking stay with your slaves," I hiss, slapping him across the face and leaving.

My heals grow heavy, so I fling them off, one landing on one doll's face and the other on another. "It's fucking over," I scream, waiting for him to catch up with me. But he doesn't. He never will. He chose the dolls over me.

3rd Person's P.O.V.

The night is chilly; a small breeze makes it's through the office window, Taeyong sighs, waiting for a call, a signal. At exactly midnight, his phone rings, it's an unknown number. He looks down at his phone, licking his dry lips and smiles. He picks it up, holding the phone close to his ear, "hello?" The voice on the other side was soft and familiar; it was Jin. 
"It's time," he speaks in a hushed tone, "Namjoon's going through with the plan." Taeyong sits even further back into his leather armchair, his smile growing even more. "Good," he speaks before cutting off the phone. The office is silent, looking down at his messy tie he realises that it's no way to present himself. He fixes his tie and runs his fingers through his soft hair, awaiting an arrival. 

Within a few minutes, the office is surrounded by ten armed bodyguards. Taeyong remains seated, back straightening and now with a serious face. Footsteps are heard coming from outside, a distinct pattern that he had memorised. And finally, an older man strolls in, with a grimace. The atmosphere grows thick, Taeyong looks up, face slightly tilted and grins. He gets up, greeting the older man and sits him down. 

"Mr Son," he smirks, "it's been a while."
"Come on, Taeyong, you've known me for years now. Stop the formalities," he speaks.
"How's Heechul?" asks the younger,
"He's doing alright, still in hiding, of course, but preparing. He wants his revenge as well, you know." 
"Who doesn't?" Taeyong laughs.
"I heard you've been in contact with Kim Seokjin, am I right?" he asks. Taeyong nods in return, "that bastard Namjoon has gone too far, we're taking him down once and for all."
"It's about time; he's been in power for far too long."

The two continue to discuss their plan; all they relied on now, was their allies...

Ok, so just that we're all on the same page, Sicheng's Dolls are actual people. He's not a collector of the 'toy-type' doll. I wasn't too sure if it was clear enough, so I'm putting it here, just in case. 

Can y'all guess what's going to happen next?