Whirring sounds cues Taemin to another world the moment his head hits the pillow, just like an opening scene to a movie. The atmosphere is peaceful and if it really is a movie, this’ll be where the theatre lights will gradually dim as the audience waits, quiet, as the movie starts in silence, bated breaths waiting to see what will happen next.

It’s all very ethereal to him. The feelings are all familiar and yet foreign to him.

Again, he’s in a colourless world, and the familiar feelings of loneliness comes rushing back to him. But somehow, he feels that this time, things will be different. He looks around in a daze, his mind a hazy cloudy white as he stares out at the unbending narrow road in front of him.

Where is he going? He doesn’t know, and simply sits in silence.

He waits a while for his conscious mind to finally catch up with him and his surroundings. When it eventually does, Taemin ends up panicking. He clutches on to his seat tightly and looks to the person sitting next to him, who’s driving the car—the man’s long frame the first thing that catches his eye, followed by his inhumanly big eyes.

He doesn’t look mean, Taemin observes, and he has a small urge to prod the man. Very gently.

“Please don’t crash the car,” Taemin murmurs. He doesn’t know why but that’s his first concern; to not let the car crash no matter what. His voice is small, but so is the car, which carries his voice very well and he’s glad he doesn’t have to repeat just because he can’t be heard. 

The figure turns to look at him, about to say something, but Taemin quickly plants his hands on both sides of the stranger’s face to make sure that it continues looking straight. His own face is in wide panic and he finds his body awkwardly pressing against the man’s. Looking away from the road is one of the major driving no-nos. Glad that he prevented such dangerous behaviour, he sighs in relief.

Everything’s all quiet for a while, except for the whirring engine sounds, and suddenly his hands start vibrating. He notices that the car comes to a slow halt. Low chuckle sounds take the place of the whirring sounds and the stranger’s body is shaking.

Is the man laughing at him? Taemin is incredulous.

“Don’t worry,” the stranger’s voice is low and smooth like satin and it seems so easy to believe him. “You’re in good hands. I’m the best driver you will ever find.” He gives Taemin a smug look and there’s a glint in his eyes, but its conceited message is lost when Taemin still sees remnants of his previous outburst, a good-natural smile replacing the smug look.

Taemin snorts softly at his comment and looks out of the window, a faint fond smile on his face. They easily reach a comfortable silence as if it’s common for two strangers to be in a car together and yet be so calm and comfortable with each other, but it doesn’t feel strange one bit; they’re sitting as if they’re old friends as the man drives on and they’re both looking at the scenery and whatever’s ahead of them.

Taemin feels a hand on his head, warm, as it ruffles his hair, and he’s certain that he can trust the man not to crash the car; a gut feeling, he supposes.

“What’s your story?” the stranger asks.

Taemin doesn’t say a word, only opening his mouth but not exactly sure what to say. So he thinks and ponders for a while.

“A frog who is stuck and drowning in the well,” he finally admits and there’s a stagnant pause. “What about you?” he asks the man.

“A frog who keeps trying to climb out of the well but keeps falling,” goes the reply a while later. 

They’re both stuck in their little world as they watch world go by. There’s mutual understanding between them because they’re nursing their bleeding wounds; they don’t say any more, they don’t ask questions, they don’t make careless comments. Just silence, and they’re happy with just that.

It only takes a short while until Taemin starts to laugh—giggle, even—because he suddenly thinks about how much the stranger looks like a frog. And just like that, the silence is broken. 

“I know why you’re laughing, you squirt,” the stranger says, using the knuckles of his fist to lightly push Taemin’s head, and he joins in with Taemin’s infectious laughter.

“At least we’re two frogs in the same well,” Taemin says silently when they’re finally done, just a random thought dangling in the air as he fiddles with his shirt. 

“Then we better get out of it together,” the stranger says matter-of-factly. Taemin looks at him and sees that he’s smiling while Taemin hums noncommittally. They don’t say anymore about the subject because they don’t find the need to.

Time passes by easily as they flitter through subjects—nothing really memorable. They argue, they reach a common consensus, they agree to disagree as they ride on the narrow road in black and white.

“Hey,” the stranger calls.

“Mmm?”

“When you wake up, please try to remember to me?”