When you're hurt

...‎Gay because of you...

...‎Previously on...

...‎Gay because of you...

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...⚠️ CONTENT ADVISORY...

...Please Read: This chapter contains intense scenes of physical torment, captivity, drug withdrawal symptoms, and flashbacks to domestic abuse. It explores the dark cycle of revenge. Reader discretion is strongly advised....

...‎🎞️ Chapter 2: A New Life Begins...

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‎💄 He walks like a God of Death, dressed in a red suit that screams money.

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‎🎥 [The office doors swing open]

‎🖤 Ya: “Stop being so polite with this friend of yours... I’m just gonna pay them a visit.”

‎🚬 The atmosphere didn’t just change. It froze.

‎🎥 [Heels clicking against the marble floor]

‎😮 Tiw: “P’Ya! Please be careful with that thing around me!”

‎Ya: Click-clack. “Relax. There’s no bullet in it.”

‎🕸️ A predator enters the Yooniverse.

‎🎥 [The neon signs flickering over the black SUV]

‎Ya: “If they want to play with drugs and bullets in my house, I’ll show them what it feels like to truly overdose.”

‎😵 The nightmare meets the executioner.

‎🎥 [Pit slumped over a sticky table, eyes glazed]

‎Ya: “There he is.”

‎⛓️ No mercy. No witnesses.

‎🎥 [Shadows closing in on an unconscious Pit]

‎Ya: “Take him to the underground house. And Tiw? Don’t be gentle.”

...‎Chapter 3...

...‎When you're hurt...

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‎The silence in the office was heavy, broken only by the rhythmic scratching of a fountain pen against thick, expensive paper. Ya sat behind the mahogany desk, the sleeves of his red suit jacket pushed back to reveal elegant, pale wrists. To any outsider, he looked like a young king managing an empire.

‎Inside, however, the air felt thin.

‎"Tiw, get something for him to eat," Ya ordered. He didn't look up. He couldn't. If he looked up, Tiw might see the slight tremor in his fingers.

‎Tiw, who had been leaning against the doorframe picking at a stray thread on his tactical vest, paused. He tilted his head, his ponytail swaying. "I don't understand, P'Ya... First, you said we shouldn't be gentle. Now you're trying to pamper him?" He let out a huff of a laugh, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. "Getting soft on the junkie already?"

‎The scratching of the pen stopped abruptly.

‎Ya finally lifted his head. The ice-blue eyes weren't just cold; they were predatory. He leaned back into the leather chair, the light from the desk lamp catching the silver hoop in his brow.

‎"Do you want me to help shut you up?" Ya threatened. His voice was a low, dangerous hum—the kind that made the guards outside the door stiffen. It wasn't a joke, even if the faint smirk on his heart-shaped lips suggested otherwise.

‎Tiw’s playful expression vanished instantly. He knew better than to push the Boss when that specific tone entered his voice. He mimed zipping his mouth shut, gave a quick, respectful nod, and retreated out of the office.

‎As soon as the door clicked shut, Ya dropped the pen.

‎He let out a breath he felt like he’d been holding for sixty days. He stood up and walked toward the floor-to-ceiling window, looking out at the sprawling lights of the city. Down there, in the basement of this very building, was the man who had turned Pim’s life into a living grave.

‎Ya didn't want to "pamper" Pit. He wanted Pit alive. He wanted him conscious. Because you can't feel the full weight of despair if you’re starving to death in a blackout.

‎"You aren't going to die yet, P'Pit," Ya whispered to his own reflection in the dark glass. "Not until you've felt every single bruise you gave me."

‎He adjusted his collar, the silk feeling like a second skin. It was time. He couldn't delegate the suffering any longer. He needed to see the fear in Pit’s almond-shaped eyes for himself.

‎Ya grabbed his leather overcoat, the heavy material creaking in the quiet room.

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‎Ya’s leather overcoat brushed against the cold stone floor of the basement as he stepped into the dim light. The "Underground House" wasn't a home; it was a reinforced concrete cage designed to make people talk, or make them disappear.

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‎Pit was blindfolded and chained to a low wooden chair in the center of the room. His chocolate-colored hair was matted with a cold sweat that made it cling to his forehead in jagged streaks. In the harsh, clinical light of the basement, he looked small. He looked utterly pathetic.

‎Ya didn't say a word at first. He simply walked a slow, calculated circle around the chair, the rhythmic click-clack of his expensive boots echoing against the concrete like a countdown to an execution. Finally, he stopped.

‎Ya leaned in, reducing his height until he was level with the trembling man. The scent of Ya’s expensive, smoky cologne filled the air, cutting through the sour, metallic stench of the cell. He reached out, his hand steady and graceful as he caught Pit's jaw firmly between his thumb and forefinger.

‎"Such a cute face, but a heart full of evil," Ya murmured. His voice was smooth as velvet, but it carried a weight that seemed to crush the air out of the room.

‎"Please... Please, I don't know anything! Please don't hurt me..." Pit’s voice broke into a high, jagged sob. He thrashed weakly against the chains, his head lolling as if he couldn't keep it upright. "I promise to be a good boy... I won't tell Mom... Please, Dad, please! I'm sorry!"

‎He was babbling nonsense, his mind fracturing under the weight of the withdrawal and the isolation.

‎A low, menacing laugh vibrated deep in Ya's chest—a sound devoid of any real humor.

‎"When the drug starts to leave your system, you become hallucinative," Ya said, his tone mocking.

‎With a swift, fluid motion, Ya ripped the blindfold away. The sudden light was a physical blow. Pit blinked rapidly, his pupils nothing but vast, black voids—proof of the chemical fire still smoldering in his veins. He looked crazed, his eyes darting wildly until they finally locked onto the frozen, ice-blue gaze of the man in the red .

‎"What is it, P'Pit? Did you see the reaper?" Ya mocked.

‎He didn't wait for an answer. Ya reached out, his fingers hooking into the collar of Pit’s sweat-stained shirt. With a violent, sudden jerk, he ripped the sleeve away, the fabric shrieking as it tore. He exposed Pit’s bare shoulder to the biting chill of the basement air.

‎Pit flinched as if he’d been burned, the raw exposure making him feel even more vulnerable under Ya’s icy stare.

‎"Please don't... Please, I beg you," Pit sobbed, his voice cracking. He shook so hard the wooden chair groaned against the floor.

‎Ya laughed—a sound of pure, dark pleasure that echoed off the damp concrete walls. Seeing the man who once thought himself a king reduced to a begging, half-naked heap was more intoxicating than any drug.

‎Knock. Knock.

‎The heavy metal door creaked open just an inch.

‎"P'Ya, the food is—"

‎Tiw wasn't able to finish his sentence. The air in the room was so thick with malice it practically pushed him back into the hallway.

‎"Drop it there and disappear," Ya said. He didn't even turn his head. His voice was a cold, sharp blade that cut Tiw’s sentence in half. The "Boss" was clearly annoyed, and an annoyed Ya was a death sentence for anyone

who lingered.

‎Tiw didn't argue. He placed the tray on the floor with a muffled clink, his shadow retreating quickly as the door slammed shut.

‎Ya looked down at the tray—a simple bowl of rice and some clear broth. It looked pathetic in this room of chains and shadows. He turned back to Pit, his expression shifting from pleasure to a bored, lethal calm. He let the torn piece of fabric flutter to the floor like a dead leaf.

‎Pit’s mouth began to water at the sight of the steam rising from the bowl. The physical craving for the food—or perhaps just the comfort of something warm—overrode his terror for a fleeting second.

‎Ya watched him, his posture languid and relaxed. He spoke lazily, the words drifting through the cold air. "Do you want it?"

‎"Yes... Yes, I want it," Pit whispered, his eyes locked on the tray like a starving animal.

‎"Come and get it."

‎Ya moved the tray, sitting down with the food nearly four feet away from the chained man. He watched as Pit strained against the metal links, the chair scraping harshly against the concrete. Ya’s smirk was sharp at first, but as he watched Pit’s desperate, undignified movements, the expression slowly began to fade. The cold satisfaction was being replaced by a suffocating heat rising in his chest.

‎His memories began to rush back, unbidden and violent.

‎Flashback

‎"You're my bitch, and you should act like one!"

‎Pit’s aggressive voice echoed through the small, dark room, sounding like a whip crack. He didn't just push her; he threw her weight against the floor. Pim felt the grit of the dirt against her palms as she hit the ground.

‎"Eat," Pit sneered, forcing her face down toward the plate he’d kicked across the floor. "Eat like a dog."

‎Pim tried to crawl away, but he was faster, his hand tangling in her hair to hold her in place. The sound of her own weeping filled her ears, a pathetic, broken noise that only seemed to make him angrier. When she choked, making a mess of the food on the floor, the pain followed instantly—a sharp, stinging blow that left her ears ringing.

‎"You're a bad bitch," Pit growled, his shadow towering over her trembling form. "You need to be punished."

‎The sound of a heavy thud—the sound of Pit’s body hitting the cold floor as he reached for the unreachable—brought Ya sharply back to reality. He blinked rapidly, forcing back the tears that threatened to blur his vision. He wouldn't give Pit the satisfaction of seeing him break, not even now.

‎Instead, he replaced the grief with a smirk that promised nothing but wrath.

‎Ya stood up and stepped toward the fallen man. Without a word of warning, he brought his boot down, grinding his heel into Pit's knee with a sickening force. A jagged, painful cry ripped from Pit’s throat, echoing off the concrete walls.

‎"How does it feel to go through what you did to others?" Ya whispered, his voice dangerously low.

‎"I'm sorry... Please... I'm so sorry..." Pit sobbed, the words barely intelligible through the pain.

‎Ya didn't stop. For minutes, he played with Pit—mirroring the same cruel "games" Pit used to play with Pim. He was the cat, and Pit was the broken bird. Only when Pit was breathless and trembling did Ya finally reach for the tray.

‎He remembered how Pit used to feed Pim, but only after he’d seriously injured her—a twisted way of keeping his "toy" alive. Now, the roles were reversed. It was her turn.

‎Ya held the spoon to Pit’s lips. Pit ate like a terrified child, his eyes widening unconsciously with every bite, his gaze fixed on Ya as if trying to decipher his fate. Ya watched him closely, his own lips twitching slightly as the broth disappeared.

‎Was it the thrill of the hunt? Was it the pleasure of seeing his tormentor broken? Or was it something else entirely—a lingering shadow of the girl who once looked for any sign of mercy in this very room

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...‎🎞️ Next On: Gay Because of You...

...‎Chapter 4: Things That Won’t Go Away...

‎🎥 [The morning sun hits golden silk sheets where Ya sits shirtless, his wolf tattoo on display]

‎💄 Ya: "Dad, please... why did he say that? I can’t understand."

‎🎥 [Ya, dressed in a sharp forest-green suit, drives his black Aston Martin through the city]

‎🚬 [The engine roars with a low growl]

‎🎥 [Tiw places a bright pink smoothie on the mahogany desk]

‎😮 Tiw: "What will people say... that the great God of Death is addicted to pink smoothies?"

‎🎥 [Ya leans into Tiw’s ear, his voice a dangerous whisper]

‎🖤 Ya: "You have a free day today... for being a good boy."

‎🎥 [Ya stares at the security monitor, his

playful smirk vanishing]

‎⛓️ Ya: "It's time to pay Pit a visit."

‎💬 Fan Corner: Let’s Discuss Chapter 3!

‎While we wait for Chapter 4 to drop, let’s talk about that intense confrontation in the basement!

‎The Flashback: Seeing how Pit treated Pim (making her eat like a dog) was heartbreaking. Do you think Ya is being "fair" by making Pit go through the exact same thing, or is he becoming just as bad as Pit was?

‎The "Dad" Mystery: Pit started crying for his "Dad" during his withdrawal. What do you think that says about Pit’s past? Does the "villain" have a secret trauma too?

‎Ya’s Tears: Ya almost cried when Pit fell to the floor. Was that because he felt sorry for Pit, or because he was remembering how it felt when he was the one on the floor?

‎The Feeding: Ya fed Pit at the end, just like Pit used to do to Pim after hurting her. Do you think Ya is doing this out of a weird kind of "care," or is it just another way to keep his toy alive for more torture?

‎Drop your theories below! I want to know whose side you're on! 👇

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