00:00 • Chanrosé

:09

The headlights.

The burning rubber.

The bone crushing pain.

His mother's smile.

Over and over, and over again.

The gasp of air that Chanyeol took into his chest when he came to was excruciating. His lungs were on fire, each breath big or small, just fed to the flames. His eyes strung from the dripping sweat that was running from his forehead. The pounding in his head worsened with every inch he moved of his neck. Chanyeol glanced down at his zip-tied body, bound tightly to a metal chair with his hand behind his back. The ties were thick, heavy plastic. Not the dainty ones that he was use to seeing. His legs lined against the legs of the chair, a zip tie wrapped around every inch or so. The restraints dug into his skin, cutting off the circulation.

He squinted, looking around at his surroundings. A dark, very large room, barely light with florescent lights that flickered every couple seconds. It was the only sound his ears picked up on, there was no other sounds. The silence was thick and suffocating, filling up lungs with every short breath. There waas a chained double door to his right, bolted by multiple heavy armed locks. Chanyeol was placed right in the middle of the cold, cement floor.

Right in the middle of rows and rows of bombs.

The ones they had been set out to find. They were set up around him, in an almost obsessive pattern. Perfectly and evenly spaced with bright red timers on each one, all facing him. The blood in his veins ran cold, draining from his face when the heavy realization settled into his bones.

31:54

"HQ, do you copy?" His voice was horse and his mouth was dry. He cursed uneather his breath and swallowed harshly, it was literal radio silence. Chanyeol had no idea how long he had been out. The last thing he remembered was the sound of Chaeyoung's screams for him.

Chaeyoung

His arms pulled at his restraints, trying to ignore the body shaking pain of the thick, plastic ties slicing into the skin of his wrists.
The pain he was feeling wasn't anywhere near normal. It was heightened, making him want to scream into the silence. His nerves felt like they were under siege making even the slightest brush of the skin unbearable. The warmth of his blood dripped into the crevasses of his palms and lined his fingers, dripping off his fingernails to the ground.

Chanyeol closed his eyes as his body shook at the pain, trying to shove his mind past its set limit. The pain wasn't real, it's was just a fabrication. His frustrated shout cut into the suffocation of the room, bouncing off of the walls. He had to get out, for her. The idea that Chaeyoung could be dead, or hurt terrified him to his core. The idea of losing her was more painful than anything his nerves could fire.

"It has been such a delight to watch you suffer,
I must say."

The malicious, deep voice came from behind Chanyeol. Turning his head back as far as he could, he saw out of the far corner of his eyes the skinny figure of Taeyong walking down a metal staircase against the back wall. Chanteol rolled his eyes at the sound of Taeyong's footsteps—heavy, slow and overdramatic.

Once he was standing in front, Chanyeol dug his gaze into his enemy's eye. There was nothing there, no sense of life or basic human emotion. Chanyeol had seen more life in the eyes of the dead.