Chapter Text
The sounds of crackling fire and soft cries woke Seokjin up gradually, but the shrapnel embedded in his side was enough to bring his full awareness back to reality.
Seokjin blankly stared at the long, thin metal pipe that had made its home in his side and had him pinned to the seat. Funnily enough, he couldn’t feel it. He tapped it experimentally -- nothing.
Looking around, he saw that the plane he was on had split perfectly in half. He was sitting somewhere in the back of the small aircraft, and from what he could see beyond the fire, the front half of the plane was nowhere in sight. A long groan escaped him, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion.
When did he get on a plane?
Racking his brain unsuccessfully, Seokjin realized that he had no memory of anything that had happened in... however long it takes to board a plane and have it crash in the middle of seemingly nowhere. All he knew was that wherever he was, it was hot.
Unbearably hot.
The crackling fire grew more intense. He could feel each pop and sizzle of the harsh heat on his feverish skin.
Sluggishly lifting his head, Seokjin saw that the seats on either side of him were empty. He was alone. And that was when the reality of his situation set in. His heart hammering in his chest.
Shouldn’t the others have been with him?
“Joon-ah,” He coughed. His breathing picked up speed as his head whipped around for signs of the leader.
God, he hoped Namjoon wasn't anywhere near this burning nutsack of a plane -- or else he'd be in the same situation as Seokjin -- but Seokjin desperately needed help. The air was suffocating him as smoke surrounded him. And with a wrong inhale of breath, Seokjin choked -- startling the wound at his side.
“Shit,” He groaned, chest heaving and palms sweating. If he wasn't pinned to the seat like a memo on a bulletin board, he would have been hunched over in pain with his head between his knees -- now he could definitely feel it.
“Yoongi-yah!”
He tried calling, his throat raw and torn, but there was no reply. He should have expected it... none of the others were anywhere in sight. He was hopelessly alone and bleeding and facing a laughably hellish fire by himself.
His fingers curled around the armrest.
He took one shaky breath to calm himself, exhaling through his nose. Seokjin closed his eyes and concentrated on finding any memory explaining why he was trapped in the middle of a plane wreck.
__________
“Jin-hyung, move over -- I had a bad dream.”
“Geez kid, don't startle an old man like that -- get in here.” Seokjin lifted the blanket with his eyes closed, already falling back asleep.
“What did you dream about, Kook-ah?”
He could hear the patter of soft rain against the window, a wet sniffle and Yoongi’s quiet breaths from the other side of the room. Good. He made it home tonight.
“I don’t want to say... but it was bad,” Jungkook whispered shakily. Seokjin hummed knowingly and wrapped his arms tighter around his dongsaeng.
He was too cold -- probably exhausted mentally. Seokjin made a note to turn the AC down in the morning. They liked the dorm warm.
“ Don’t worry, we’re safe now,” He murmured in Jungkook's ear as darkness set in.
__________
Seokjin gasped as an ache shot through his skull. He probably needed to stop thinking so hard, the recollection proving to be useless for the situation he found himself in anyway. A dull throb settled in at the back of his brain, and he doubted it was going to magically disappear anytime soon.
"Ah, that's fucking wonderful."
A strange noise broke through the monotonous sounds of fire then. Seokjin froze, his eyes narrowing as he tried to make out what the sound was.
A few beats of silence were followed by what was undeniably a moan of pain. Seokjin's eyes shot up, forgetting his own headache. Somewhere at the front of the torn plane was someone making a pained noise.
“Who’s there? Are you... are you -- ", Seokjin grit his teeth as the shrapnel embedded inside of him jarred awfully. He breathed deep, pained breaths... more like pants as he tried to focus on whoever else was on the plane. He lifted his eyes, but he couldn't see anything around the mangled seat or hanging wires in front of him.
"Are you ok?" He said after a minute.
Silence -- unease festered in his stomach. Whoever was in front of him didn’t respond... and Seokjin suspected that maybe they couldn’t respond -- much less hold a conversation right now. The quiet moaning crept back up again, blocking out all hope of contact.
His breathing picked up speed, his heart racing at the dire situation. What the hell was happening?
Seokjin closed his eyes, a whimper nearly escaping him. He couldn’t die here without knowing if his members were safe. He had to move. He had to... he had to get out of this seat.
His fingers hesitantly wrapped around the pole in his side, noting that there wasn't even any blood. At this angle, he could see where the metal disappeared into his skin like Yoongi's beloved lamb skewers.
"Aw fuck." Now he couldn't eat lamb skewers again.
Seokjin focused his attention on the metal, half-heartedly pulling in fear of the inevitable pain. But his timid efforts weren't enough to stop the sheer agony that ripped through him. A cry was choked from his throat, hot tears formed in his eyes. But he had to keep going.
His grip tightened, pulling more desperately and vigorously. His toes curled in his shoes, and he swore his vision turned black for a second.
But he was only growing weaker with each effort. The crackling fire intensified, and Seokjin couldn’t bring himself to check how close it was getting to him. From the way sweat dripped down the back of his neck, he could tell it was close. After several more failed attempts at removing the pole, he realized what he had to do.
"Damn," He laughed. This was going to hurt.
Seokjin braced his hands on each armrest, his fingers clenching white and teeth grinding together.
He took a shaky breath and basked in his last moment of peace before using the weight of his legs to propel his body up in one quick motion, ripping himself off the pole. The drag of metal through his skin a torturing, searing burn. He swallowed the scream that threatened to escape him. Black clouded his vision.
Seokjin stood (barely) on two feet, leaning his entire weight on the seat in front of him and feeling shocked that that plan had somehow worked. He turned his head to see the bloodied pole still stuck in the seat, and resisted the urge to flip it off.
A few shuddering breaths later, Seokjin swallowed thickly before straightening up, releasing his grip on the seat, taking one step and... passing out.
He awoke only a second later, blinking dumbly as he took note of the fuzzy sweaters and god awful chunky shoes that had thankfully cushioned his fall -- instantly recognizing them as belonging to Jimin and Hoseok respectively.
So the others were here after all.
Both relief and worry flooded his body at the thought. Seokjin rose to his knees, his hand gripping his wounded side so hard his hands were going numb. Pained tears made their way down his cheeks and sizzled on the hot floor beneath him. But he didn't focus on that for long as another noise caught his attention.
A moan of pain -- the voice familiar. Seokjin's head whipped in the direction, nearly passing out again at the sudden blood rush.
But then Seokjin saw him, and his breath was stolen entirely. Taehyung was sprawled out in the middle (now front) of the plane. Unconscious and groaning in pain. The neon floor beneath him was slowly burning the side he was crumpled over. The fire creeping closer and closer to Taehyung. And Seokjin blinked and he was already racing to his dongsaeng, the hole in his side long forgotten in his adrenaline fueled brain.
“Taehyung!” Seokjin looked to the blood pooling around the boy and the way the skin on his arm was blistering from the scorching metal beneath him in horror. Skin falling from his arm like candle wax. Taehyung was burned... bad.
Seokjin wrapped his shaking hands under Taehyung's armpits and hauled him off the floor -- flames lapping at his sides and wanting to just get the boy away from the source of his pain.
He dragged Taehyung as best as he could towards the gaping hole in the plane. And the instant he stepped outside... his body was met with shock. The first step startling a sinking, dreadful feeling through his stomach.
The air was icy. Though it relieved his sweaty skin, the fear it left only grew. Surrounding them was nothing but white snow for miles and miles and miles. The lack of color terrifying. The air was gray and foggy, mountain ranges thundered in the distance. The sky a nauseating mixture of ice and suffocating air. Seokjin swallowed and his ears popped, he breathed... but the breath wasn't full or satisfying.
A chill ran up his spine at the sight, but he kept moving. Feet leaving trail marks in the untouched snow.
Shit.
“Shit."
He only had enough patience and sanity to deal with one catastrophe at a time so he continued dragging Taehyung away from the plane. Laying him as gently as he could in the snow once Seokjin deemed them a safe enough distance. Seokjin crumpled to his knees and looked to his dongsaeng's face.
Taehyung’s eyes were weakly flickering underneath half-lidded eyelids. The sobering cold seemed to have roused the boy to consciousness. The boy's fingers trembled like he wanted to move them but couldn't, breath quickening in confused panic.
Seokjin sighed, wincing at the wound in his side. He straightened up and inspected the injury -- luckily the shrapnel seemed to have avoided any major organs. At least, that was the conclusion he had come to since he wasn't dead yet. He was a singer, not a doctor. He'd take that as a good sign.
Seokjin's eyes shifted to Taehyung as the boy's hand (the one not burnt to a crisp) suddenly flew out in search of Seokjin. Weakly and blindly, Taehyung patted Seokjin until their hands met.
“I’m here Tae-ah, don’t... don’t worry,” Seokjin whispered gently, taking hold of the Taehyung's hand. Seokjin bit his lip, hating to see Taehyung so distressed. He looked around instinctively for help before remembering that it was just the two of them... alone in the snow.
Taehyung eyes were still half shut, but the terrified look held in them was enough to bring tears to Seokin’s eyes. The younger boy pointed in the direction of the burning plane and arched his back in pain at the movement. Teeth clenched tight. Small tears rolling down his face.
“I know -- we were in a crash, but help will be here soon,” Seokjin said unconvincingly. Taehyung frowned, a bit more awareness returning to his eyes. The boy grunted, but no words formed. Taehyung shook his head, pointing again to the plane with more intent.
Seokjin watched in confusion, his head cocked to the side.
Taehyung, unable to communicate his thoughts, then gripped Seokjin's hand again and dropped a small, cool object into Seokjin’s palm. Eyes then slipping shut and lulling to sleep now that his mission was seemingly completed.
Seokjin frowned, eyes narrowing as he stared at the item. He spun the small ring between his fingers in puzzlement before recognition dawned on him.
“Where did you get this, Tae-ah? Doesn't this belong to --“ But Seokjin cut himself off as the realization struck him like a crashing wave.
The roaring sounds of fire and intense gusts of wind died down as he zeroed in on the plane. Soft cries echoing in his memory.