hell or flying | Chaelisa

Chapter 3

Stepping out of the car, I found myself drowning in the sea of flashes and shouts from each side. I could barely see in front of me, and under the scrutinizing gazes of the photographers, reporters, and news anchors, I found myself immobilized. I couldn't move, couldn't think. I froze as the flashes haven't stopped even for a second.

It was overwhelming, to say the least, and I felt my heart rate speeding up, as I grew uncomfortable with how close everyone was. At that moment, I just wanted to run and hide away from everyone and everything. I felt panic settle inside my chest, and it only kept on growing as the shouts seemed to get even louder.

My ears were ringing, my eyes failed to focus on anything as I frantically snapped my head from left to right, and my legs felt wobbly on the four-inch heels. No matter where I looked, it seemed to be wrong as more yells filled the surrounding air to look in a different direction, to give a smile, to answer the curious questions. But how could I smile when I felt as if my chest was constricting?

I was vulnerable in front of the prying cameras, under the bright flashes of loud camera clicks. And I hated being vulnerable, being so naked in front of everyone. I hated being the center of attention, just how I hated being the one who was observed and judged.

And the louder the shouts got, the harder I found it to breathe.

Thankfully, I was snapped out of my surely building up a panic attack by a firm hold on my hand that pulled me forward.

My attention snapped to Chanyeol, who's been looking at me with a smile I recognized as the painful one where he wanted to give me the "what the fuck are you doing" look, and that seemed to pull me into reality. I couldn't afford to be vulnerable, being exposed, or panicking. No, I had to hold my head high and walk down the red carpet without a hitch, as if my lungs didn't feel like they were collapsing. As if my palms haven't started sweating excessively.

And as if my heart wasn't breaking out of my ribcage, desperately trying to escape the current situation straining it. Straining my whole being.

I was used to this - to the cameras in my face, to the yells, to the flashes. However, this was nothing like I've experienced before. There were many more people than I was used to, and that I've frankly expected. This was way too much, and my breathing became ragged and uneven. I was practically gasping for air.

Chanyeol didn't seem phased in the slightest though, and remained composed as he thrived in the flashes, basked in its light as a reptile did in the warm rays of the sun. So with that one look in his eyes that I knew what meant exactly, I shook my head and closed my eyes for the shortest moment to compose myself.

We started walking, both of us turning our heads and smiling for the cameras, and I hoped I looked as unbothered as I intended to. He wouldn't be happy if I appeared uncomfortable in our pictures. And I wouldn't like what would ensue if he wasn't pleased with my behavior, and the way I carried myself.

Reaching the platform, we turned around and posed for the cameras. Chanyeol's arm snaked around my waist, pulling me closer and I, balancing myself from stumbling at the rather harsh tug, put my hand on his abdomen - grasping onto his suit. He looked down and smiled down at me as I did so, and I could practically hear the reporters swooning at his "loving gaze". It was all just pretend though, at least on my part. There was no love coming from me, and the one he was showing me was pure toxic and more a need to own me, rather than the need to take care of me and love me. But of course, the reporters didn't know that, and the flashes failed to penetrate our minds and capture what was really going on.

So once again, we would be presented like the beautiful picture-perfect power couple people admired and wanted a "love" like ours. We would once again be the goal couple whose spark hasn't died down one bit, even after three years of marriage. No wonder they asked us questions about how we kept our love alive and prevented it from getting boring with pictures like that. He knew exactly what he was doing when he pulled me closer, he knew what kind of attention it would bring. And of course, he loved good press. He loved being adored and keep up his perfect image I was forced to be a part of.