Summary: [Heechul!centric, Second person] You went out and ended up meeting your number one fan.
Genre: Angst, Drama, etc.
A/N: (Part 1)Part 2
When you open your eyes, it’s dark and you wonder if it’s because you still can’t see. But you notice cracks of light and that the air around you is stale and that you’re moving – but without moving, you realize and what? You can hear and feel wheels rumbling underneath you and you reach out only to touch fabric wall.
Your legs are numb and prickling and you realize this is because they’ve fallen asleep and are pressed uncomfortably against your chest and how long have you been like this? You try to stretch and get the feeling back into your limbs, which all feel heavy and tingly, but the cramped space doesn’t allow much movement.
Who is prepared to wake up in a reality like this? Not you, especially not you.
So after a few seconds of attempting to move and change position and nothing happening, you lose all sense of control over any and everything like you are so so used to and flat out panic. You flail, desperate and angry, movements restricted by the little tiny room, the pocket of space in a fabric prison. Help, you yell, twisting and pounding and voice cracking pathetically from disuse, Help me!
Suddenly your dark world with little cracks of light flips upside down and you land mostly on your head on something hard with a painful thump. But it doesn’t stop there, the world just keeps on turning round and round, tops over bottoms and lefts and rights all over everywhere, until you finally land on your side and roll over onto your back and stop.
You groan at the pain shooting through your limbs and, overlapping that sound, is the small chink of a zipper being undone. It seems as though the heavens have open and light floods in and blinds you. You shut your eyes on instinct, then open them and blink rapidly and squint to see what’s going on around you – it is vital, it seems, in this situation.
The girl from the bar is staring at you, her lips parted a little as she examines you up close. Heechul ah, shhh, she whispers, offering you a smile and putting her finger up to her lips in the familiar gesture. We’re almost there, so just hold on, she says, and you’re confused.
Where are we? You ask, (and, when you think back on this moment, you think about how your wits hadn’t kicked in yet or else you would have been flailing again and trying to escape) your mind racing and piecing things together. This girl has – has kidnapped you – she must have put something in your drink while she went to get the napkins – you’re in trouble – you need to get away – you need to run – you need to go somewhere safe.
And the girl must see it on your face that you’re about to panic again and she must realize that you’re a grown man and that, no matter how frail you may look and no matter if you’re still under the influences of some weird drug and no matter if you’re disoriented, if you really tried to fight and overpower her, a little teenage girl, she wouldn’t be able to stop you. So she quickly zips the zipper back up and pats you through your fabric prison, which you, in a moment of sudden understanding, comprehend to be a travel bag or suitcase.
This girl has stuffed me into a travel bag, you think to yourself, heart dropping into the pit of your stomach. Oh no. Oh please, no no no.
We’re almost there, don’t worry, the girl tells you pleasantly, her words muffled through the bad, you’ll love it, Heechul ah, though I’m sorry I have to do this – or else you’ll run away.
Where is there, where is here? You’re in shock and at a loss as to what to do and can’t help but frown at her words; what is she sorry she has to do or else you’ll run away? She doesn’t seem to be too apologetic about kidnapping you, so what?
And this is when she lets out a grunt of exertion followed by a cheery yell of, and down the stairs you go!, and you experience a moment of feeling weightless before gravity pulls you down unpleasantly.
Your world flips upside and right side up and this way and that way and you feel your arm getting crushed against something hard and your head hits the edge of something and you’re still tumbling in the too small bag.
You blackout before everything stops plummeting.
- - -
When you wake up you’re no longer in the bag, you’re lying on a bed and staring at a white ceiling. Blinking, you sit up and hold your head in your hands for a moment to try and relieve the dull throbbing that’s now ailing you. The arm that was crushed earlier seems to be okay other than a little aching, so you sigh in relief that you don’t have to worry about it being broken. You’re first concerns about serious injuries being out the way, you look around and then you notice it.
There’s a chain connected to the metal leg of the bed and it connects to a shackle around your ankle. You frantically shake your leg and pull at the chain, but it doesn’t do any good.
This is exactly when the heaviness, the grave seriousness of this situation hits you, and the words ‘this girl has kidnapped me, I need to get away, I’m in trouble’ have a horrible immensity to them that sits on your chest and makes you feel like you can’t breathe again.
You look up when you hear a brief small whirring sound and see a small camera mounted on the wall. The whirring starts up again and the camera moves a little, focusing in on you. You can only stare at the camera as everything really really sinks in this time.
No, you say to yourself quietly because you can’t talk any louder right now, no.
You stand up and yank the chain again. It stays put and you shake your head frantically. No no no…! You grab at the sheets on the bed, throwing them off and tearing at the mattress. No!
You throw your head back and scream as loud and as hard and as long as you can, thinking that maybe someone will be able to hear you and can come rescue you and you’re so frustrated that this is happening and that you can’t do anything about it and thinking that you should have been able to do something to prevent this and –
None of it matters, because there’s nothing you can do anymore.
You scream and scream and scream, keep screaming until you just scream yourself hoarse as the sun sets outside your window and then you collapse onto the stripped mattress, throat raw and hurting. You’re too tired to cry, even though you really want to. You’re scared and don’t know what to do and want to go home to everyone else and say that you’re sorry and want to pretend that this is all a nightmare. But you can’t do any of those things.
So instead you drift to sleep with the sound of the camera whirring in the background.
on to part 3