The lights flash across his visor; garish neon hues, purples and pinks and too much, and Seunghoon watches them blink and streak across his vision as he revs his engine and the universe bends exponentially— the tunnel around him shrinking and growing all at once.

The nauseating vertigo sets in as everything that is real meshes together and ceases to exist in a nonsensical kaleidoscope of multiple realities and none at all. Gravity vanishes as does all concept of space and direction— but this isn't Seunghoon's first time and he keeps his grip on the handles firm and he drives straight, straight, straight straight straight into—

—nothing. And eventually he shoots out the other end into the same tunnel, he's still driving, it's still empty, the lights are still flashing. 

The corner of his visor blinks, small blue numbers flickering onto the tiny display. EI4920277-JL. They mean nothing to him anymore, not after the first ten, then fifty, then hundred, and he lost count.

He races out of the tunnel into the city at long last. It's always the same, but the city is not what he cares for. He runs a red light that he's ran a dozen times before and takes a sharp turn onto a highway; it's foggy out and shrouded in grey, the lamps that line the streets barely there through the suffocating mist.

They are nothing compared to the lights behind his eyes when he tries to go to bed at night in the cold, nothing compared to when he wakes up to nothing