low quality mysme trash

Saeran x MC (x Ray) Part One

Summary: A series that takes place immediately after the prologue bad ending in which Saeran kidnaps MC (the reader) after she refuses to break into Rika’s apartment; mild spoilers for V’s Route and obv for Saeyoung’s route 

a/n: italicized text=Unknown | plain text=MC/Reader | I’m debating continuing this, but I’m not sure. feedback pleaaaase

Sang-Hee Kim broke up with her boyfriend just two weeks ago. As Sang-Hee’s best friend you were bound to feel some of the repercussions. You had met her boyfriend on several occasions, joining them on lunches and dinners and trips to the museum; you could say that you’d even become friends with him. That mostly made matters worse. Sang-Hee felt the relationship deteriorating over time. There hadn’t been another girl or another guy, no intense betrayals, no over the top fights; it had just been a matter of time. Or, so Sang-Hee says. Her boyfriend disagrees.

Her boyfriend had been under the impression that things were going just fine. But, he took the break up well. Too well.

So well, in fact, that he didn’t throw a fit and gathered his things from Sang-Hee’s place as soon as possible. He left with a simple kiss on Sang-Hee’s cheek. Sang-Hee continued to say that she believed breaking up with him had been for the best. And then she stopped saying that. She checked her phone every hour. She checked yours every hour.

She wailed so loudly your ears popped.

“Why isn’t he texting you?! Weren’t you two friends?! Doesn’t that make him sort of an asshole friend?!”

You calmly, but firmly, touched her shoulder. “He knows that I’m your best friend. It would be weird for us to stay in contact.”

Sang-Hee shook her head of neat, brown hair. “No it wouldn’t.” She thrust your phone back towards your chest. “You should text him.”

You set your phone beside you. “That’s not a good idea—” you began to say.

Sang-Hee began to wail again. “I think I’ve made a mistake!” she exclaimed. She began to fumble through her purse, searching for her own cell. “I have to get him back,” she declared. You jumped across the booth, nearly spilling the two coffees that had gone untouched for a while. You snatched her purse away. “Sang-Hee, no!” you said firmly. Getting her through this rough patch felt a lot like training a puppy.

“You said multiple times that it didn’t work with Jae anymore.”

Sang-Hee pouted. “I want to talk to him! MC, I mean it, I really miss him.”

“No, no, no, you miss being in a relationship,” you corrected her. “You miss having a boyfriend. But you don’t really miss Jae. And so,” you said, digging through her endless purse, “I am going to temporarily be confiscating your cellular device.”

You slid her phone into the cup of your bra (she would easily be able to pickpocket it away from you otherwise).

“You are going to get in your car, drink that stupid chilled coffee you love so much, and go home. And then you’re going to take a shower, do some laundry, then put on that dumb musical you love so much so we can watch it together. I’ll bring dinner over after my errands. Then, and only then, will I even consider giving your phone back. Deal?”

Sang-Hee begrudgingly agreed. “You just insulted most of the things I like in under three minutes. You’re so mean.”

You put your hand overtop hers. “I’ll bring some fish buns as an apology.”

“Bring five.”

Before you could calculate the amount of calories in five fish buns, Sang-Hee left, dragging her feet as she sipped on her coffee.

Being Sang-Hee’s friend was a lot of effort at times, mostly because you’re both stubborn and it clashes in messy ways; but Sang-Hee is your only friend, not to mention your oldest friend.

You are more than willing to help get her through this break up—although that doesn’t mean you’re going to do it nicely.

You left the cafe shortly after dropping money in the tip jar left out on the counter.

You had gone not too much of a long way off from the cafe when someone trailed you down. They called you out by the color of your hair and the style of your clothes which admittedly startled you, because you’re anxious when it comes to socializing of any sort.

With a spin on your heels, you turn.

He’s there, catching his breath and politely holding out something in the palm of his slender, pale hand. It’s hard for you to look at the item because he’s so cleverly attractive, as if God awoke one day with the urge to sculpt out the most amazing face he could muster.

From his bleached hair—that stood out brightly against his roots which were like licks of fire—to his leather jacket, you were entranced.

“W-what?”

He laughed. It was a pleasant sound.

“Your phone. You left it at the cafe.”

Oh. You took your phone back, careful to not graze his hand. “Thank you, thank you so much.” You couldn’t help but be shocked; an attractive stranger who didn’t steal your phone when he could have? Hot.

Or perhaps you’ve gone so long without getting laid that any decent fellow seems like Prince Charming.

He smiled again. “Don’t mention it.”

And that encounter had been the last of that.

You notice the new app an hour or so later, when you are on your way to pick up dinner for Sang-Hee. The app has a silly icon with a silly display name; you are very sure you did not download it before. There’s an empty bench nearby. You slide out from the lane of people walking along the sidewalk and take your seat.

The app brings you to a display screen with a prompt to enter your name, so you do.

From then on, the app takes you to an empty chat room.

…Hello…?

The chatroom is no longer empty.

?

Can you see this?

Who are you?

I’m sure you’re surprised. It’s not every day you get a text from a stranger. I’m a bit flustered myself. I found a smartphone at the subway station, but all it had was this messenger app.

The messenger app that you’re using, you assume; what was it’s name…spooky messenger? You can’t recall.

I want to find the owner but I don’t see any contact info or call records… I’ve been sending messages with this app but no replies… All I see is an address and some important looking numbers saved in notes. I’d like to go there myself but I’m currently abroad.

First…who are you?

Me? Oh I’m sorry, I didn’t even introduce myself. I’m just a student studying abroad. I’m Korean. I could tell you my name but it doesn’t really matter. You won’t find me on search engines. ^^; But anyways… Can you help me find the owner of this phone? I know you’re surprised to have someone suddenly pop up and ask you a favor like this  But still…I’d appreciate it if you could help

You scoff. 

Why are you so obsessed with finding the owner of this phone? Just turn it into the police

Well…Normal people wouldn’t understand… To be honest I have a religion.

Good for you.

My religion says that you must not miss any opportunity to do good, no matter how small. Well, some say that it’s just being nosy. But I’m not like normal people. I can’t help but think about how stressed the owner might be… It’s really a safe place. If you feel unsafe, you can turn around. I know the area. It’s developed. Please?

Are you asking me to go to that address?  No way. You’re creepy and weird.

Creepy?…^^;; I’m not a creep. Haven’t you ever heard of the saying ‘you get a treat if you listen to older men’…?

Wtf no;;

Sorry. I was just kidding ^^;;; Anyways… I know I’m asking too much. You might think I’m odd. …I am a bit odd to be honest. But would you consider it? I’m talking to you right now. Two complete strangers at two completely different places… It’s a miracle we’ve connected. No one responded to my messages. You’re the first one. I don’t know how we got connected… But maybe this was meant to be? <Attch: One [1] Image>

Whoever you’re chatting with (their screen name is set to Unknown) sent a picture of someone who had to have been some Instagram model, with dark hair and green eyes that, in a way, made you feel uncomfortable.

That is me in the photo. Maybe this will make you less suspicious…? I’m returning to Korea soon, so I’ll definitely make it up to you. If you feel unsafe near the place, you can just delete the app. Please, I’m begging you.

He seems…desperate. Desperate in a sad, sad way. 

You’d be lying if you said that you weren’t the least bit curious. Something about this person’s operation didn’t make much sense. After all, what can you do about any of this? Show up to the address without the phone, only to say that ‘Unknown’ has it?

If he wanted to, he could send the phone to the address. 

He could even wait to return to South Korea and take it there himself. 

So yes, you’re curious to know what has Unknown so desperate.

Alright… I’m returning asap if something seems strange.

Unknown sent you an address link. 

You took a cab there, gnawing viciously at the inside of your cheek. 

The building seemed familiar in a cold way; it was smooth and encased in marble, looking sort of like tall prison. 

At the door you were meant to go to, there’s a password lock on the door with bold numbers.

Your phone buzzed suddenly. Unknown hadn’t texted you at all since sending the address, so it frightened you. 

Are you there? ^^ See. Nothing strange. Is there a password lock on the door?

No. No, no, now you’re done. You told him there was none. 

He repeated the question over and over, each time feeling like a dare for you to keep on fibbing.

That’s strange. I see with my own eyes that… You are standing in front of a password door lock. Are you gonna continue lying?

Your phone slipped from hands. You felt your heart fall into the pit of your stomach as you look across your shoulder. 

It was him. You feel like you should have known—the young man you saw earlier, who was so ‘nice’ enough to return your phone. 

You swallowed the anxious knot that formed in your throat. “You.”

“And you.” 

His eyes leisurely scanned you up and down, flickering with faint shadows that danced on the line of lust and anger. You felt too shocked to feel the initial wave of fear. 

“Why did you lie?” he asked. His loose leather jacket kept slipping down his shoulders. 

His screen name kept flashing in your mind. Unknown. 

An unknown guy in an unknown place cornering a nearly unknown girl.

“Why did you?” you shot back.

He seemed mildly surprised. “I didn’t lie,” he snapped. 

“Yeah, you fucking did,” you fired again. “‘Studying abroad’ my ass. You’re-you’re a stalker.”

Unknown blinked, and then laughed. This laugh seemed real; real, dangerous, thin like the strings of a violin. “I suppose I did lie about that. I didn’t even think about that part. Hmm, you’re smart.”

“Or maybe you have low standards,” you replied. 

“That insulted us both, you know.” His witty banter frightened you down to the bone. Unknown lurched forward and grabbed you by the forearm. Suddenly this felt like a nightmare; a true nightmare, where your feet are stuck to the ground or your movements are slowed. 

The soles of your shoes dug into the floor, passing over the surface of your phone as Unknown jerked you forward. The flat crack of your cellphone shattering was hardly audible. You suddenly remembered the saying ‘curiosity killed the cat.’ 

Was there ever a second part to that saying? What brought the cat back? It was on the tip of your tongue.