Chapter Text
The night started, as all good college nights do, with a lie.
“We’re only staying for an hour,” Jaemin said, his words a thin veneer of responsibility over the buzzing anticipation in his gut. He didn’t believe it, and he knew Jeno, Mark, Haechan, and Renjun didn’t either.
They stood on the worn front lawn of the Alpha Sigma house, a modest two-story house that was currently belching sound and light onto the street. The bass from inside was a physical presence, vibrating up through the soles of Jaemin’s worn sneakers and straight into his chest. Jaemin could only imagine the noise complaints.
“An hour? You said that last Saturday, too,” Haechan countered, his mischievous grin catching the light from a string of fairy lights in a tree. He pulled a cheap plastic cup from his pocket, already anticipating the night’s libations. “We’re here until we’re all out of coherent thoughts, and with you, Jaemin, that’ll be in about thirty minutes.”
“Hey!” Jaemin laughed, playfully shoving Haechan. “I’m a pillar of sobriety, thank you very much.”
Mark slung an arm around Jaemin’s shoulders, his smile warm and genuine. “A pillar holding up a very wobbly roof, maybe. But let’s get in there before the good stuff is gone.”
The five of them moved as a single unit, their individual energies combining into a confident, easy momentum. They had known each other since freshman orientation, and over three years, they’d become more than just friends—they were a constellation, each a necessary star.
Jeno, the calm and observant anchor. Mark, always a source of quiet support and the voice of reason. Haechan, the chaotic spark, effortlessly drawing attention no matter where he goes. Renjun, the thoughtful observer, his eyes missing nothing. And Jaemin, the orbit, the one they all revolved around, his easy charm and boundless energy holding them all together.
Stepping through the front door was like plunging into a different world. The air, heavy and cool just moments before, became a thick stew of body heat, spilled beer, and a faint, sweet smell of something Jaemin couldn’t place—maybe stale popcorn, maybe cheap vodka. The noise was a roaring beast, a cacophony of overlapping conversations, a dozen different songs bleeding into each other, and the incessant thud of the bass. They were immediately swallowed by the crowd, their huddle of five dissolving into a river of bodies.
Jaemin laughed as he was jostled, his shoulders brushing against Jeno. "This is insane!" he yelled over the music.
Jeno leaned in, his voice calm despite the frenzy around them. "Just the usual. Want to grab a drink first?"
"Already on it!" Jaemin held up the empty cup Haechan had given him, a silent dare. Jeno just shook his head, a fond smile playing on his lips. They found a small pocket of space near the wall where they could breathe for a moment, letting the music wash over them.
A familiar song, a high-energy dance track, came on. Without a word, Jaemin started to move, his body loose and uninhibited. Jeno, always more controlled, joined in, a quiet, solid presence next to Jaemin's fluid, expressive motions. They danced in their own private bubble, a brief, joyful moment of their friendship on full display. Jaemin's head was clear, his movements synchronised with the beat.
"Okay, I'm thirsty now," Jaemin shouted as the song ended, his cheeks flushed and a wide smile on his face. "Let's get to that bar before it's completely gone."
Jeno pointed to a red cup someone had left on a nearby railing, still half full. "Better than nothing," he said with a shrug, and Jaemin didn't hesitate. He grabbed it, the liquid sloshing against the rim, and tilted his head back, downing the lukewarm concoction in one go. The harsh, bitter taste of cheap beer and something vaguely sweet hit his tongue. A wave of lightheadedness washed over him, a warm, fuzzy feeling that settled deep in his gut.
“Alright, operation: procure beverages!” Haechan shouted over the noise, his voice barely audible. He pointed toward a makeshift bar on the far side of the living room, a folding table groaning under the weight of plastic cups and a dozen litre bottles of various liquors. “Divide and conquer!”
“You’re not going alone,” Jeno said, his tone firm. He always worried about Haechan’s tendency to get carried away. The last time he’d taken his eyes off him he’d ended up falling into the neighbour’s pond.
Haechan rolled his eyes. “I’m a grown man, Jeno. You worry too much.” He wiggled his eyebrows playfully. “Besides, what if I meet someone? Do you want me to miss my chance?”
Jeno scoffed in response,” Meet someone? As if you haven’t been flirting with Mark since freshman year of high school.”
Renjun, who had been silently taking in the scene with a wry expression, finally spoke up. “He’s not wrong. We’ll meet you over there. Let’s not get separated.” His voice, though quiet, was sharp with a hint of warning.
It was advice they should have heeded.
First, Jeno was waylaid. A mutual friend from their history class, a tall guy with a boisterous laugh, clapped him on the shoulder and started an urgent-looking conversation. Jeno gave a quick, apologetic shrug and mouthed, “Be right back.”
Then, at the makeshift bar, Mark and Haechan were immediately pulled into a huddle with a group of their friends from the campus a cappella group. They were laughing, gesturing wildly. Haechan looked back and gave Jaemin a quick thumbs-up. “See you in a bit!” he mouthed, before disappearing into the circle.
Jaemin found himself standing next to Renjun. The room felt suddenly larger, the crowd less familiar.
“Well,” Renjun said, a small, knowing smile on his face. “So much for not getting separated.”
“I’ll go find the drinks,” Jaemin offered, already feeling a little too conspicuous standing alone. “You wait here. Don’t move.”
Renjun raised his eyebrows at him, ”Didn’t we just agree to not split up?”
“I’m not going far.” Jaemin reassured, “I’ll be back in less than a minute.”
Renjun wasn’t convinced, but let him go anyway.
He waded back into the crowd, throwing Renjun a smile as he went. He got to the bar, grabbed three cups, and was about to fill them when he felt a tap on his shoulder. It was Mark, looking slightly panicked.
“Hey, have you seen Haechan?” Mark asked, his eyes scanning the crowd. “I looked away for one second, and he just… vanished.”
“He was with those guys from your group,” Jaemin said, pointing. “The a cappella gang.”
“Yeah, but they said he went to the backyard for some air. Said he was going to wait for me there,” Mark explained, a frown creasing his forehead. “I’ll head out there. You get our drinks and meet us out back, okay?”
Jaemin let out a breath, ”Yeah, yeah. Just don't get lost again."
Mark gave a quick nod and disappeared into the living room, heading toward the back door. Jaemin sighed, filled the cups, and started his treacherous journey back toward where he’d left Renjun.
But Renjun wasn't there.
Jaemin scanned the area, his eyes darting through the undulating sea of faces. Renjun was short, easy to lose in a crowd, but his bright pink hair should’ve been visible between the bodies in the room.
Pulling out his phone. The time showed that three hours had passed. He tried to text Renjun, but the signal was weak. The message wouldn’t send. Jaemin felt a familiar frustration—the kind that comes when a simple plan goes awry. He knew Renjun was probably just a few feet away, but the sheer number of people made it impossible to spot him. He decided to find the bathroom, knowing that in a house this full, it was the one place people often converged.
The hallway leading to the bathroom was a bottleneck, a human traffic jam. Jaemin shuffled along with the flow of bodies, his shoulders brushing against strangers. He caught snatches of conversation: a loud debate about a political science professor, a girl complaining about her thesis, a couple arguing in hushed, angry tones. He finally reached the bathroom door, its handle sticky with who knows what.
Inside, the room was a microcosm of the party: a spilled drink on the floor, wet paper towels piled by the overflowing trash bin, a mirror streaked with condensation. A guy was leaning against the sink, his face pale, holding his head in his hands. Jaemin gave him a small, sympathetic nod before using the facilities. When he came out, the hallway was even more crowded. He checked his phone again. Still no signal. The unread text from Jeno sat mockingly at the top of the list.
Deciding a change of scenery was in order, Jaemin pushed his way back toward the front of the house. He figured he’d get some fresh air and try to get a better signal outside. He finally made it to the front door, slipping past a couple making out in the doorway, and stepped out into the chilly night. The cold air hit him like a splash of ice water, clearing his head slightly. The frantic energy of the party immediately seemed muted, distant.
He pulled his phone out again and held it up, hoping for a single bar. Nothing. The screen was a black mirror, showing him his own reflection: flushed cheeks, slightly wild hair, eyes that were a little too bright. He was alone, and a quiet panic began to build in his stomach.
Just as he was about to turn back inside, hoping to find his friends, he heard a car engine fire up. A sleek black sedan pulled to the curb just a few feet away. He saw two guys inside—the driver, and another in the back. The driver leaned across the seat and opened the passenger door, beckoning him over.
“Hey, man, you need a ride?” The driver called out, his voice smooth and confident.
Jaemin squinted, trying to place him. He looked vaguely familiar, a senior he’d seen around campus. He was a good-looking guy with sharp features and a relaxed, cocky smile. He had a reputation for being a bit of a thrill-seeker, but Jaemin didn't know him personally.
“Uh, I think I’m okay,” Jaemin said, his voice hesitant. “I’m waiting for my friends.”
The driver, Hyunjae, chuckled. “Well, you look like you’ve been waiting a while. We’re heading back toward the dorms. No sense in freezing out here.” His words were persuasive, an offer of comfort and convenience.
Jaemin hesitated. The thought of finding his friends in the chaotic house was exhausting. He was tired of the noise, the crowds, the constant struggle to stay connected. The ride sounded simple, easy, and fast. He could be back in his own bed in ten minutes. It was just a quick lift home.
He took a step toward the car. He would text the group chat when he got home.
“You sure?” Jaemin asked, still a little hesitant.
Hyunjae just smiled, a disarming flash of perfect white teeth. “Hop in. We don’t bite.”
Jaemin's phone buzzed in his hand, a vibration from an incoming message. He glanced down. It was Jeno. A new text.
Jeno<3: Where are you? Where’d you go?
Jaemin stared at the screen for a moment, shortly before his phone turned off, completely dead.
He cursed; he was sure he’d charged it fully before he left.
“Are you coming, or what?” Hyunjae shouted again.
“I should tell my friends…” Jaemin said, turning away.
“Just text them when you get home, it’s only a short ride! The signal here is poor anyway!”
Hyunjae was right. The dorm wasn’t far away. He could just text the group chat as soon as he got home.
He slipped his phone back into his pocket, the screen still dark with the unread text, and climbed into the rear passenger seat.
The interior was sleek and clean, a stark contrast to the sticky chaos of the fraternity house. He settled into the leather seat, the material smooth and cool against the back of his legs. A faint, clean scent of leather mixed with the sharp, lingering smell of cigarette smoke, a scent that immediately set him on edge.
The driver, Hyunjae, leaned back in his seat and gave Jaemin a quick, once-over glance in the rearview mirror, a lazy half-smile on his lips. “Told you we don’t bite. So, where are you headed?”
“The dorms. Campus Drive,” Jaemin said, pulling the seatbelt across his chest with a nervous tug. He felt a weird, fluttery feeling in his stomach, a combination of the alcohol he had consumed and a growing sense of unease. He glanced at the seat next to him, where Jinsu sat silently, his face a pale blur in the dim light of the street lamps. Jinsu was staring straight ahead, his hands folded in his lap, not making eye contact with either of them.
“Dorms it is,” Hyunjae said, his voice a low, confident purr. He put the car in gear and pulled out from the curb. The engine hummed with a quiet power that spoke of a high-end vehicle. Jaemin was immediately struck by the efficiency of the car, how easily it moved. It felt… too easy.
“Nice car,” Jaemin offered, trying to break the silence that had fallen over them. The quiet felt heavier than the feeling in his stomach.
Hyunjae chuckled, a low, rumbling sound. “She’s alright. Gets me where I need to go.” He didn’t elaborate, and the conversation died there.
The car moved at a normal, residential speed for a few blocks. Jaemin relaxed a little, telling himself he was just being paranoid. He’d be back at the dorm in no time, and he could text his friends a sarcastic “I’m home, what took you so long?” He’d even have a good story about the time he took a ride with a couple of strangers.
But the moment they left the quiet residential streets and hit the main road, everything changed.
Without a word, Hyunjae pressed the accelerator. The car surged forward with a sudden, violent thrust that pushed Jaemin back into his seat. The humming of the engine became a low growl, a predatory sound that swallowed the road noise. Trees and streetlights became a blurred streak of colour on either side of the windows. Jaemin’s heart rate spiked. This wasn't just fast; this was aggressive.
“Whoa, hey, slow down a little,” Jaemin said, his voice a little higher than he’d intended. He shot a glance at the speedometer. The needle was climbing steadily past the speed limit, a silent testament to Hyunjae's carelessness.
Hyunjae didn’t slow down. He just laughed. “What’s the matter? Just getting us home faster. You looked like you were in a hurry.”
“No, no, it’s not that,” Jaemin stammered, his hand gripping the armrest. “It’s just… you know, the cops around here. They’re a little trigger-happy with tickets.” He tried to keep his tone light, a friendly warning, but his voice shook. He looked to his side again. Jinsu’s face was still pale, and his hands were gripping his knees with white-knuckled intensity. He was just as terrified as Jaemin, if not more so.
“Cops?” Hyunjae scoffed, the word a sneer on his lips. He changed lanes without a signal, forcing a minivan to swerve and blare its horn. “Don’t worry about cops. They don’t know how to handle a car like this. This baby’s faster than anything they’ve got.”
Jaemin felt a fresh wave of nausea wash over him. This wasn't a joyride. This was something else. He suddenly saw Hyunjae not as a "friend-of-a-friend" but as a stranger, and a dangerous one at that. A cold, heavy feeling of regret settled in his chest. Why didn’t I just wait? Why didn’t I go and find Jeno?
“You ever been in a car that goes a hundred?” Hyunjae asked, his eyes focused intently on the road, a manic excitement in his expression.
Jaemin didn’t answer. He couldn’t. He just shook his head mutely.
“Yeah, it’s a rush, man. Nothing like it,” Hyunjae continued, oblivious to Jaemin’s terror. “You feel like you’re on top of the world. Like you’re invincible.”
The conversation in the car shifted. Hyunjae began to talk about a recent incident. “The other night, man, this dude started something at the bar. Said he didn’t like the way I looked at his girl. Can you believe that? So I followed him out, taught him a little lesson.” He laughed again. “He won’t be looking at anyone funny for a while. Had to get out of there fast, too. Almost had a tail. Had to lose him in a chase through the back alleys of downtown. It was beautiful.”
Jaemin felt his blood run cold. He glanced at Jinsu. His head was bowed, his face buried in his hands. He was silently pleading with Hyunjae to stop.
Jaemin's voice was filled with panic, "Hey, look, my dorm is just up ahead. You can just drop me off here. I’m fine with walking the rest of the way.”
Hyunjae gave him a sharp, knowing look through the rear-view mirror. His smile was gone, replaced by a cold, appraising stare. “What’s the matter, man? You’re not having fun?”
“No, it’s not that, I just…” Jaemin fumbled for words. “I’m feeling a little sick, to be honest. The drinks are getting to me. I just need some fresh air.”
Hyunjae just looked at him, his eyes narrowed, a silent challenge. Then, he laughed again. This time it was a more sinister sound, without any hint of genuine amusement. “Nah, man. We’re going a different way.”
He suddenly swerved to the left, without a signal, and whipped the car into a sharp U-turn, heading in the opposite direction from Jaemin's dorms. A chorus of angry horns erupted behind them. Jaemin was thrown against his door, his head hitting the window with a soft thud.
“Hey! What are you doing?” Jaemin yelled, his composure completely gone.
“Just having some fun,” Hyunjae said, his voice flat and emotionless. The game was over. Now, it was just business. “We’ve got a thing we need to do. It’ll be quick. You’re coming along for the ride.”
Jaemin looked at Jinsu in the backseat. He caught Jinsu's eye. For a split second, Jinsu’s expression was one of absolute, pure terror and a silent plea for help. Jinsu slightly shook his head, a subtle warning for Jaemin to just be quiet and go along with it.
“Look, I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Jaemin pleaded, his voice trembling now. “I just want to go home. You said you were taking me to my dorm. Please.”
Hyunjae ignored him. He was no longer the confident, charming guy from the party. He was cold, calculating, and ruthless.
The car flew through a red light, forcing a city bus to slam on its brakes, its massive tires squealing in protest. Jaemin closed his eyes. He could feel the engine roaring, the G-force pushing him back. He was a prisoner in the passenger seat, his only connection to the world outside a fragile seatbelt. The streets became a blur of colours, the buildings just dark shapes in the night. They were now heading toward an unfamiliar part of town, the college campus a distant memory.
He was in a car with a man who had admitted to assault. With a passenger who was clearly terrified of him. Jaemin's own fear was a bitter taste in his mouth, metallic and sharp. He felt a profound sense of helplessness, the same feeling he had when he was a little kid and got lost in a grocery store, a silent panic that swelled until it felt like it would swallow him whole.
“You know, it’s funny,” Hyunjae said, his voice a low, casual aside. “You remind me of a friend of mine. Always wants to be the hero. He thinks he can talk his way out of anything. He’s going to learn that’s not how the world works.”
Jaemin opened his eyes, a desperate fire in them. He realised Hyunjae wasn’t just driving recklessly; he was toying with him. He was enjoying Jaemin’s fear.
“You’re going to stop this car and let me out right now,” Jaemin said, his voice a strained, desperate plea. He reached for the door handle.
“I wouldn’t do that,” Hyunjae said, his tone still perfectly calm. “It’s locked.”
Jaemin's hand, shaking, gripped the cold metal of the door handle. He pulled. It didn't budge. He tried the button lock. It was already in the down position. The car was a cage, and he was trapped inside.
His panic reached a fever pitch. He was no longer Jaemin, the college kid at a party. He was a victim. A hostage. And the ride had just begun. He looked out the window and saw a car coming at them from a side street.
The headlights were a sudden, searing flash, an unwanted strobe in the manic light show of the car's breakneck journey.
Then the sound came. It wasn’t a single sound, but a cacophony of a dozen different, terrible noises. The frantic, high-pitched shriek of tires fighting a losing battle for grip on asphalt. The angry, defiant blare of a car horn, long and sustained, followed by another. The engine of Hyunjae's car, which had been a low growl of power, was now a piercing, desperate roar.
“Look out!” Jaemin screamed, his voice raw with pure terror. He braced himself, his hands flying up to shield his face, but it was useless. It was already too late.
The world dissolved into a violent, spinning chaos. First, the nauseating, stomach-lurching sensation of a sharp swerve. The car bucked and fishtailed, and for a heart-stopping second, Jaemin thought Hyunjae had managed to avoid a collision. But Hyunjae's scream of frustration was the last thing he heard before the world imploded. The sickening crunch was a sound Jaemin knew he would never be able to forget for the rest of his life. It was the sound of metal tearing and twisting against metal, of steel collapsing like crumpled paper. It was a sound that was so final, so absolute, it felt like the very fabric of reality was being ripped apart.
The impact was a physical, crushing blow. The seatbelt, his only lifeline, became a taut, unforgiving band that bit into his chest with a searing, shocking pain. He was slammed forward, then immediately thrown back as the car began to spin, the G-force pushing him into a vortex of noise and light. The windshield shattered with a series of loud cracks and the spiderwebbing sound of glass giving way, the pieces flying into the air like crystalline dust.
Then came the second impact. A jarring, sickening shudder that reverberated through every bone in Jaemin’s body. The car collided with the concrete wall of an overpass. Jaemin’s head, unshielded, slammed into the side window with a sickening thud. A flash of blinding white light exploded behind his eyes, followed by a profound, echoing blackness. For a moment, he existed only as a sensation of raw, searing pain, a disembodied consciousness floating in the void.
When he came to, it was a slow, painful crawl back to reality. The world was blurry and tilted. The high-pitched ringing in his ears was a constant, maddening presence, a ceaseless hum that drowned out all other sound. The car was silent. The silence was punctuated only by the drip-drip-drip of an unknown liquid—maybe coolant, maybe blood—and the faint hissing of the car’s engine. A sickly, sweet smell of petrol and burnt oil filled the air. He tried to move, but his body felt heavy and broken. His head throbbed with a dull, insistent ache.
He was still in the rear passenger seat, but everything was wrong.
The front of the car was a mangled, crumpled wreck of twisted metal and shattered glass, a horrifying testament to the violence of the crash. Through the broken window, he could see the other car. It was smashed against the wall as well, its front end completely caved in. The driver, a woman, was slumped over the wheel. He could just make out her dark hair and the white flash of her hand on the dashboard. There was no movement. She was still. He saw the mangled figure of the driver from the other car and his heart ached for him.
From his side, he heard a sound—a choked, gurgling sound followed by silence. He turned his head with a wince of pain and looked at Jinsu. He was slumped against the window, his body twisted at an unnatural angle, his eyes wide and vacant. His head was bleeding, a slow, red trickle staining his white shirt. There was no sign of movement. Jaemin felt a fresh wave of nausea, this one born of pure, unadulterated horror. He was dead. Jinsu was dead. He felt a tear track a path through the grime and sweat on his cheek, a silent sob catching in his throat.
Then he heard a groan. It was Hyunjae. Jaemin turned his head to see him, pushing himself up, seemingly unharmed. Hyunjae was in the driver's seat, his movements quick and decisive. He unbuckled his seatbelt with a sharp click and pushed his body up and out of the driver's window. He dropped out onto the ground and moved with a terrifying sense of urgency and purpose.
He didn't spare a single glance for Jinsu's still form. He didn't even acknowledge Jaemin's presence. He was a man with a singular, terrifying focus.
"Get up," Hyunjae said, his voice flat and emotionless, a chilling calm that was far more terrifying than any panic. "We have to move."
Jaemin couldn't move. He was a statue of pain and shock, his body frozen in place. He was in too much pain, and the overwhelming weight of what had just happened had him paralysed with fear. "We... we have to…to call someone," he stammered, his voice slurred, disorientated. "Jinsu… he’s hurt. The others, too."
Hyunjae just scoffed, a sound of supreme impatience. He reached into the wreckage, unbuckled Jaemin’s seatbelt, and pulled him out of the passenger seat. The movement sent a jolt of sharp, blinding pain through Jaemin’s body. He cried out, a broken, involuntary sound, but Hyunjae didn’t even flinch. He just gripped Jaemin’s arm, his fingers digging into his skin, and pulled.
The world spun again as Hyunjae dragged him toward the open driver's side window. "Listen to me," Hyunjae said, his voice a low, chilling whisper. "I can't be found here. They'll know. I can’t go back to that place. Not again. Not ever." Jaemin's dazed mind struggled to comprehend his words, a piece of a puzzle he didn't even know existed.
Hyunjae was strong. He managed to yank the crumpled driver’s side door open, and shove Jaemin into the driver's seat. The dashboard was a jumbled mass of buttons and dials in front of his face. Jaemin’s head rocked to the side, as if he were about to throw up. Weakly, he tried to get back out, but Hyunjae held him there before closing the door.
”This is wrong," Jaemin said, his voice a desperate, pleading sob. "I wasn't driving. You were. You were driving."
The car was so mangled, it barely felt like a car anymore, but Hyunjae had a grim, determined look on his face. He reached through the smashed window and, with a quick, decisive movement, buckled Jaemin's seatbelt. The sharp click of the buckle was a sound that would echo in Jaemin's nightmares for years to come. It was the sound of a trap snapping shut.
"You don't remember everything," Hyunjae whispered, his voice dangerously low. He grabbed Jaemin's limp hands and, with a terrifying pressure, pressed them against the steering wheel. "But I do. You drove. You crashed. We were on our way home, and you got a little reckless. Understand?"
Jaemin’s mind, fogged by pain and shock, struggled to process the information. It was so simple, so horrifyingly logical. The crash was an accident. The cover-up was an act of pure evil. He wasn't a victim of circumstance. He was a pawn. He was a scapegoat. Hyunjae was setting him up. The realisation was a colder, more terrifying shock than the impact itself.
"No," Jaemin sobbed, his head still throbbing. "No, please. I wasn't... I didn't..."
"Hush," Hyunjae said, his voice still perfectly calm. He gently laid Jaemin's head down on the steering wheel. "It’s okay. Just rest now. You’re the driver. Remember that."
In the distance, a new sound began to grow, a low, ominous wail that grew louder and louder. Red and blue lights began to flash on the surrounding buildings, painting the shattered wreckage in an eerie, pulsing light. Sirens. They were coming. Jaemin's last thought before the blackness finally took him was of Hyunjae's cold, triumphant smile in the flashing lights. Jaemin watched as he walked away into the darkness, leaving him as the sole survivor in the twisted wreckage.