The bonging chime of the overhead speakers precedes the captain's speech. Chanyeol tunes it out and settles himself in his seat after stowing his carry-on and tucking a book in the pocket of the seat in front of him. Flight attendants walk up and down the aisles, helping passengers tuck away bags and belongings and fielding questions from anxious passengers worried about the flight or worried about flying.

Airplanes are not designed for extra large people's comfort. A righteous cramp is in imminent for Chanyeol's legs. He should've gotten a bulkhead seat. The pitch is generally greater in emergency rows, even, but he didn't feel like paying extra. A few hours suffering pins and needles is nothing compared to the trials of trying to recreate the conditions of plane crashes.

After the demonstration of safety equipment and procedure during the taxi to the runway, passengers and crew are belted for take-off. It used to bother Chanyeol, but he's flown often enough to accept everything that could possibly happen to or on the plane is out of his hands. The crew are professionals. There is a greater chance of being struck by lightning or a meteorite than there is of going down in a plane crash.

Yet they still happen, or Chanyeol would be out of a job.

Even if it does go down, history has shown that it isn't the crash that's deadly but the fire afterwards. It's not very comforting; he'd rather an instant death, if he absolutely had to chose a way to die. That or peacefully in his sleep and blissfully unaware.

It's gruesomely fascinating, which lead Chanyeol to becoming an aviation accident investigator. He's finally flying home after visiting the scene of a crash in the mountains. No one wants to take responsibility, financial or otherwise, so it falls to him to find who all are at fault and what steps need to be taken to prevent the same mistakes from happening again.

Yawning wide, he releases the pressure in his ears. He idly watches the navy slacks and white sneakers of the flight attendant walking down the aisle his seat is on. The slacks tighten over their and thighs as they bend to reach passengers, offering pillows, masks, and blankets. Even in the middle of summer, with heat radiating off the tarmac in shimmering waves, the plane cabin is cold.

The legs stop beside his seat; he sits up. "Pillow, sir?"

"Just a mask, please." When he looks up to thank the attendant, his mind malfunctions and goes blank.

Thankfully, it's not catching. The man blinks and smiles crookedly. "Hyung."

"Kim Jongin!" It sounds like an accusation. Jongin laughs.

"It's been a long time." It's been somet