So much time above the cloud flying at mach speeds is starting to wear thin at Tao's human propensities, a condition he only begins to notice now as he sits idly in the driver's seat of the Helicopter he's been ordered to fly today waiting impatiently for some important diplomat to come in and fill the ride. 

Tao, despite his occupation as a pilot, is not used to serving anyone but Generals and Officers who scream orders and expect nothing but your full attention and one-hundred percent obedience.  He is used to piloting fighter jets and cargo planes that carry expensive and otherwise dangerous equipment, including--but certainly not limited to--explosives, missiles, guns, ammunition, pretty much anything his allies might need in a pinch.  That all being said, when he was offered the job of flying civilians around, he almost felt...

Demoted. 

As far as he was concerned, diplomats and expensive individuals were too much work, too much aggravation.  They want your personal attention and care, and when you're piloting a jet that's flying above thirty-thousand feet at speeds fast enough to get him from Shanghai to Xi'an in under two hours, the last thing he needs to be worrying about is how well pampered his guest is.  And then there are the times where he has patrons who treat their trips like they're on a fancy, first class airline, wondering where the service attendants were and why Tao wasn't keeping them up to date with the locations of their travels.  As far as he is concerned, an ocean is an ocean no matter which one it is, and as long as he's going in the right direction and not on the other side of the world from his destination, he could care less which brightly lit city is which. 

That's what GPS and his navigation devices are for, after all.  He already has enough to worry about without documenting every location he's ever flown over in his life. 

But today is special, or so his commanding officer informed him, shoulders back and posture as straight as a pole.  Despite finishing basic training and four rigorous years at the Air Force Academy--not to mention the four years of dedicated service as a fighter jet pilot--Huang Zitao has never been a fan of authority figures and the fact they all want him to respect them regardless of how much of a they've been to him in their relationships.  Although Kris Wu isn't a bad Officer, Tao just can't quite seem to find it in him to straighten out his posture or wipe the bored look off his face. 

And when Kris informs him that his years of service have led into a job as a personal pilot for a ragtag bunch of Rich people, he can't seem to tame the immediate detest that enters his eyes.  As far as he's concerned, he should be on the field, in battle.  He is number one from his class and his squad, his "wing"--as they call it in the Air Force--after all. 

But his officer refused to listen to any backtalk, and it had been decided that Tao would switch details from Fighter Pilot to what he deems even lower than Cargo flying.  There's just something sickening pathetic about having the life of an important person in your hands that doesn't at all compare to the thrill of saving a country or defeating the bad guys.  Tao would rather fly civilian charter flights with hundreds of people in his hands than worry about the lives of two or three people who, in reality, could easily be replaced. 

He can't complain, though.  At least he's still getting paid. 

This is already fifteen minutes late, he realizes, looking at the watch on his wrist with a long sigh of displeasure.  He isn't really a fan of schedules himself, but when an agency calls you up and urgently informs you that they will be delivering an important person to your hands at a specific time and location, Tao thinks that it's just respectful to keep to your own specifications.  If he had known they were going to be late, he would've taken a couple extra minutes to chat with some of his mates, like Yixing, who works in the Hospital Ward of the Military Base; or even Luhan, who is stationed almost permanently in the Laboratory of the Science and Experimental Ward. 

But nope. Instead, he's sitting here just...waiting. 

I have a busy life to attend to, too. He seethes in his own mind, glaring through cat-like eyes at the regrettably empty flight-zone.  These s, always thinking they're better than schedules and time-sensitive affairs. At this rate, I might have to fly faster to get to the next base before the boss is up my a--

"Are you Huang Zitao?" He turns on a dime at the sound of his name falling off of a deep, slightly raspy voice.  The man--boy, really--that looks back at him is tall and lithe, a beanpole if Tao has ever seen one, who probably has some coils of definition under the expensive slate grey suit he's adorned in, but certainly not enough to be intimidating.  Tao doesn't know if there is such a definition for someone who is too skinny, but he thinks that this male might perhaps be the picture example, if he needs one.  

His shoulders are broad and his face a little long, but the rest of him is all angles and sharp curves crafted onto the long plains of his body.  He has two glaring black eyes that dare to cut at him from their spot hollowed into his thin face.  Right under them are sharp cheekbones that descend into smooth sunken cheeks that are as white as ivory.  His lips are a pale pink that are firm in a tight line, his expression as serious--possibly more--than the officers who trained and conditioned Tao into the pilot he is today.  And against Tao, he is a complete and total contrast of color schemes. 

Tao is the composite of everything Dark on this side of the world.  His skin is a sweet mocha hue that he takes pride in flaunting beside his general attire of simple black beaters and the military issue black pants he wears to not be a complete rebel.  His eyes are two cat-like chocolate orbs that he's told are rather intimidating to look at when he's focused and concentrating, apparently as piercing as obsidian daggers. And atop his head is a groomed meadow of unruly black hair, sticking up in all directions now that he's actually had some time to let the top grow back in a bit. 

But this boy is every highlight of white possible.  From his alabaster skin to the patch of platinum blonde hair atop his head, it's almost painful to look at him.  He's like a fresh batch of snow blanketing the ground in his hometown of Qingdao: never-ending and blinding.  Tao used to like snow, but he's not so sure he'll be able to stomach it after this encounter. 

Something about this boy just screams displeasure and Tao can hardly begin to count the merits he'll lose after this flight is over. 

But until then, "at your service." He answered with only a slight lilt of disdain in his accented voice.  He offers a mockery of a salute to the suit and motions to the helicopter waiting to be flown behind him. Like Tao himself, this helicopter is sleek and black, like fresh ebony polished to perfection.  Despite it's heavy appearance, it's one of the swifter models, a personal favorite of Tao's and a request he sent in for considering that his abilities were hardly being used to their best potential. 

"Right, well, we better get a move on.  As it is, I'm going to be late to my meeting." Tao wants to snort in mirth, simply because the way he says that makes it sound like this is all somehow Tao's fault. But, he lets bygones be bygones and decides to save himself the hassle of a stupid argument. 

"As you command..." He stalls, waiting for some offer of assistance as he opens to the door to the beast.  The boy looks confused for hardly a second before his face levels into another scowl. 

"Oh Sehun." 

Sehun, Tao thinks with a contented nod, slamming the door shut once he's settled in and seated, not a bad name. 

***

They're about thirty minutes into the flight when Sehun is jarred by his first experience of turbulence.  Up this high, Turbulence hits a bit harder, the winds a little faster, but for Tao, it's no more than a little speed bump.  In fact, he only notices it because of Sehun shuffling in his seat and releasing a heavy breath.  Out of pure curiosity, he looks at him with a cocked eyebrow. 

"Uncomfortable?" He asks, momentarily ignoring the plethora of people speaking in his ear from traffic control and the flight center.  Yes, he can see the gathering of clouds.  Yes, he knows that means a storm is coming. It's not like he's never flown a ing helicopter before. 

Sehun looks at him with a slight hint of fear in his black eyes that Tao momentarily cherishes.  The expression looks good on him, fits the fact that he's probably never gotten a personal flight before.  Knowing that there's a life in his hands is already exhilarating enough, but seeing the dependence in Sehun's is beyond enough to have his lips turning up into a smirk. 

"No," Sehun shouts over the loud roar of the engine, "was just a little startled, is all." Tao snorts, knowing he won't be able to hear it even with their proximity.  They still have a couple of hours left to go before they'll be at the destination and Tao is already flying a little recklessly, given that he has an "important" individual in his care.  But he doesn't want to be late and spot his perfect record--even if it's not entirely his fault. 

"Are these things always this bumpy?" Sehun questions, gripping the arm rests of his seat for dear life.  The image is endearing, to say the least, and Tao can almost assume this is his first time take something that's not a passenger plane or even a private jet.  And there's a difference between a commercial pilot and him--mainly how attractive he is. 

But Tao doesn't bring up the fact Sehun might be afraid of heights or Helicopters or both.  He just shrugs and relaxes in his seat. "You should try out a jet if you think this is turbulent. I almost broke my wrist once trying to keep one of those babies in formation." Sehun looks over at him in surprise, looking down at his strong wrists with something akin to speculation.   His creamy eyelids droop over his eyes and he leans closer, as if to break the barrier of needing to shout and normal speech.  Tao doesn't bother informing him that there IS no such thing as normal speech or inside voices in a helicopter, just different levels of shouting. 

"Why is it worse in a jet?" The boy asks, blinking in confusion and looking at the layout of the helicopter around them.  Another strong gust hits the frame, jostling them, but it's nothing Tao's not used to.  It convinces Sehun to sit normally again.  "The framework of a helicopter should make it more susceptible to strong winds, shouldn't it?" Tao smirks. 

"You would think so," he voices, "but Helicopters are better balanced than most fighter jets.  We're made for speed, and if you know anything about cars, you'd know that most vehicles made for speed and precision aren't made for obstacles." And wind can be a  of an obstacle.  In most cases, it required moving to a higher altitude to escape the clouds and whatever storm might be causing the turbulence, and while cloud cover was great for shielding you from discovery, it was a during recon and rescue missions. 

"So, which is more difficult to pilot?" The question is an odd one. In fact, this whole conversation is odd to Tao.  Most of the guests he's flown around have been cumbersome old men who wanted nothing to do with their young pilot.  Of course, Tao was only twenty-five, which was terrifying to most diplomats, but an asset on the field.  But still, older gentlemen never wanted to talk to him or get to know him. They expected him to do his job and follow orders to a tee.  This was the first time a passenger had ever broken the wall between pilot and civilian, a feat that had him slightly amused. 

"Personally, I think seven-fifty-sevens are pretty hard to fly.  They're big and weighty, which is great when you need to transport a lot of cargo, but when you're used to being in the cockpit of a F-16 or a Raptor, it's like switching from a Porsche to an 18-wheeler. Helicopters are a bit tricky because you have to learn to counter-balance the unequal weight of the front versus the tail.  But they all have specifics you just learn to handle after a while." It's nice, he notes, talking about piloting.  This is his life, his dream, and everyone on the Base is either a licensed pilot or an officer--both of which already know enough about flying to not care to discuss it or just don't give a .  It's been a while since he's found someone who actually doesn't know as much or even more than him. 

But Sehun is ignorant of the details behind aircrafts and their mastery.  All he knows are the basics, meaning that he can tell the difference between a civilian flight, a private flight, a jet, a plane and a helicopter.  Beyond that, all he really knows is that you need a license and lots of training. Or, that's what he supposes anyway.  

He's right though, Tao acknowledges, because it took him seven years to get where he is now, and he still has a good two or more years to go. If he hadn't been such a fast learner and a student of physics, it would've probably taken him even longer. 

"So," Sehun manages to say after a long string of silence, "are you licensed to transport civilians, too?" Tao laughs because he can't help it. The question is genuinely curious, and he finds it engaging to have someone so curious sitting beside him for once. 

"I'm licensed to pilot every aircraft that can take you into the air.  The only thing I can't pilot is a spacecraft, but I'm not a huge fan of space, anyway." Sehun blinks. 

"Why not?"

Tao shrugs. "I like Earth.  I like the wind and the way the Ocean looks when you're looking down through the clouds.  I like how the city lights look like a mirror of the stars when night falls and how I can see all that and more with nothing but the engine humming to drown out my thoughts." Sehun nods, looking wistful. 

"Doesn't it ever get lonely?" It's the million dollar question, and one that Tao has never really had time to entertain. But he has time now, and when he looks at Sehun--really looks at him--he begins to wonder if maybe, just maybe, it is. 

But instead, he just shrugs, adjusts in his seat again and smiles out the windshield. "Never really thought about it."

After that, all conversation dies in the helicopter except for the few instructions and updates he gets from traffic control down at the base.  By this point, they're only about fifteen minutes out from their destination and for once, Tao is almost reluctant to watch Sehun go.  Although the kid wears a mask of authority and importance, he is still just a kid, so young with so many questions.  And Tao can't help but look at him as he spots the base just up ahead, still a couple minutes away, still. 

"How old are you, kid?"  He asks through the sound of their descent, repeating it when Sehun leans closer and draws the headset from his ear a bit to hear more clearly.  He seems almost hesitant to answer, lips pursed and expression hard, but there is still curiosity behind those black orbs. 

"How old are you?" Tao smirks at him. 

"Only twenty-five." Sehun looks surprised and Tao's enamored by the look.  "I told you mine, it's only proper etiquette to tell me yours, too."

Sehun gulps and looks at the steadily approaching ground with reluctance.  "S-seven..." He stutters out, gripping the seat for dear life.  "I'm seventeen." 

Tao nods and puts his focus into landing right on the platform put up for him.  He makes sure they're stable and firm on the ground before he switches off all the individual gizmos and gadgets, turning off the engine and letting out a nice, loosening sigh. 

He checks his watch and is only pleased to see that they're fifteen minutes earlier than they were supposed to arrive. His driving was probably a bit too dangerous at times, but Sehun doesn't look too beaten up. 

Still, as he folds his arms behind his head like a makeshift pillow at looks over at Sehun, he can't help offering an appraising look.  "Looks like we're right on time, kiddo." 

The glare he receives is more than worth the possible wrath this boy could bring upon him. But just as Sehun readies a retort, the door is opened from the outside and a bodyguard dressed in the usual black tailored suit is waiting patiently for him to step out of the Helicopter. 

For the first time in his career, Tao is hesitant to let Sehun go. And it's this hesitance that has him reaching out to lightly grab Sehun's wrist, stalling his departure and making him look with a questioning look on his face. 

"If you ever wanna feel what it's like to ride in a real aircraft, give me a holler." He finishes with a devastating wink and lets his fingers slide off Sehun's wrist with only a lingering touch.  Despite the lack of skin shared between them, now, their eyes stay locked and there is some kind of emotion there that almost makes Tao want to pull him back in and just speed off. 

But he doesn't, and before he knows it, Sehun is gone like he never came. 

***

Tao forgets about the influential son for a total of six months, all of which is spent working with his squadron doing air raids and missions around the world.  He's a busy pilot, and with his recent--and unexpected--promotion, he has even less time than he did before.  He goes between being an ace pilot and working the ground crew in shifts that leave almost no room for sleep, and the sleep he can get is normally interrupted by Jongin waking him up for a new mission, or Baekhyun and Chanyeol stopping by to inform him about the results of a previous one. 

Today is the first day he's had time to himself in months and with his time on active duty slowly withering away, he finds it necessary to spend as much time with his jets and fancy fliers as much as humanly possible.  Back during his days as a novice, he was expected to take his planes out for regular test runs and flight training to keep his skills up to speed and his knowledge at the front of his mind, but by now, all of the aspects of being a pilot are just second nature to him. 

But nothing can beat the feeling of being in his jets. While flying at impossible speeds, he gets to the point where even the sound barrier can't hold him anymore, and then, it's like time stops.  When you're going this fast, this far removed from civilization, everything just feels like it's come to a dead stop totally reliant on you and when you decide to come down.  Everything feels li