#yeolnoir

His eyes had only been closed for a minute, he kept repeating to himself, he hadn't fallen asleep. He was only resting his eyes for a minute.

But clearly he must have fallen asleep, because he seemed to have missed the unloading of the plane, if the lack of other people was any indication. Something wasn't right, though. They would have woken him up to pull him off of the plane, they would have-

The plane was still moving. He was still flying in the air, thousands of feet above ground, with no one else on the plane. His hands gripped the arms of his chair in panic, his breath coming quicker in small bursts. Where were they going?

Taking a deep, deep breath, imagining the air coming in all the way to his toes, he forced himself to calm down, stand up, and go knock on the door of the pilot so that he could explain himself.

The door swung open at the touch of his knuckles. The room was empty.

There was no one managing the plane. He was all alone in the middle of the air with nothing between him and certain death but a sheet of metal, which he had no idea how to drive.

"...I'm going to die," he squeaked out, fingers locking and tugging at his hair.

He stumbled back down the aisle, desperately checking all the seats for someone, anyone, all the while repeating, "I'm gonna die, I'm gonna die," over and over. He tripped over an abandoned purse and landed hard on his front, chin scraping on the ground. Groaning, he lifted his head and blinked his eyes open, catching sight of a shoe, which was connected to a leg, which led up to-

Chanyeol caught the other’s gaze before shifting his attention back on the road before him, long fingers tightening around the steering wheel of his 2008 Hyundai Genesis. Even in the dimly lit car, he could make out the blotches of pink painting the other man’s cheeks, and the way his tongue poked out slightly as he slurred his words. 

"You gotta be sober, first of all," Chanyeol replied, one brow quirking slightly. "And you gotta stay away from people like those junkies you were smokin’ a joint with…." He pursed his lips, eyes focused on the winding road before him. "I mean, I get it. I really fuckin’ do. It’s easy to wanna drink and smoke and fuck to the point that you feel free, but that feeling’s just an illusion. Junkies like those guys you were hangin’ with: they’re twenty times more shackled than any sober guy out there. I could see it, too. They looked at you like you were a piece of meat ready for the taking—they didn’t care if you was cooked or raw, either way they were gunna devour you until you were one of them: A rotten piece of flesh wasting away with the other dregs of society. Fuckin’ pathetic."

Sehun's jaded expression pervaded through the rear view mirror, keeping his gaze trained on the driver's face for lack of any other object worth his attention. He wasn't in the mood for a lecture--let alone one from a stranger--so he did his best to tune the deep baritone of the other's voice to focus on his own thoughts. It seemed more and more impossible with the driver unrelenting from his gaze so he broke the silent battle first to stare out of the window instead. "How would you know what kind of guys they are, huh? You don't know anything about them, or me for that fact; so who are you to come in playing the white knight with assumptions like that!?"

The deep exhale Sehun gave off was one filled with a plethora of thoughts and worries that he kept bottled up; a jar almost overflowing with speculations as small as to what he’s going to eat for dinner to where he’s going to be ten years from now. Things haven’t been considered ‘normal’ for him in months and it was becoming all too exhausting to keep up his facade. He wanted to scream, cry out, break something but most of all, he wanted to be numb.

Yeah, you don't strike me as an insensitive guy. But I can never be sure. Who knows, you could be an evil little guy who spends all your free time collecting body parts and storing them in your freezer.