A Race to New World // ATEEZ Dystopia AU

17 | Yeosang

Somewhere above the North Pacific Ocean
(around 10 hours away from Seoul)

I opened my eyes and stretched my stiff neck. It took me a minute to remember why I was on a plane.

As soon as the sun came up in the morning, a stranger knocked on our hotel room doors, claiming that Autumn had sent him. Out of the eight of us, only I was awake to answer. Everyone else was still sleeping, including Mingi and Hongjoong, who were sprawled across the couch and armchair instead of on their beds.

The man introduced himself as Yi Jeong, a Korean pilot who also wanted to go home like us. He didn't seem to be bothered about the fact that I was still half naked, hair dripping wet, from my shower.

"I spent my last penny sending my family and my wife's family on a spaceship," he explained, as if reading my mind. "Now I'm the only one left behind, and when I heard that there are Koreans nearby who want to go home as well, I came right away." He chuckled here, although ruefully. "When the world is ending, you realize just how much you miss home, huh?"

And so I was ushered back into the room to change and wake everyone else up. We had maybe an hour, so when we went to the Niagara Falls International Airport, most of us were still half-asleep. The moment we boarded a moderate-sized private jet, everyone closed their eyes again.

Either to rest, or to enter dreamland and escape the harsh reality.

I knuckled my eyes to rub some of the grogginess away and heard another crack in my neck as I peeked out into the aisle. I chose a seat at the back again, because that way I could see everyone else easily. No one sat next to me, so that was where I kept my backpack.

I reached for my water bottle, only to realize it was empty. I let out a breath and pushed myself out of my seat, putting my right leg out first. The wound was pretty much healed, but it still felt sore at times. At least I no longer had to rely on an umbrella, I told myself, as I limped past the galley and into the middle section of the plane, where there was a small bar.

Wooyoung was sitting on one of the stools, swirling a cup of liquor in his hands. I cleared my throat and plopped down as well, leaving one empty stool between us. He didn't even spare me a glance.

I attempted to pour myself a cup of cold water from over the counter. I let the silence between us stretch - it wasn't like I cared for the awkwardness. But eventually, when Wooyoung refilled his cup with the same strong-scented alcohol, curiosity got the best of me.

"Something wrong?"

Wooyoung choked, put down his cup, and started coughing. "Wha-"

I tilted back a little at his overreaction. "No need to be so dramatic. I'm just worried about how much you're drinking, that's all."

He wiped his mouth with his sleeve before turning to me with a sigh. I raised an eyebrow at him, waiting for him to explain. There was obviously something on his mind.

Wooyoung parted his lips, but instead of talking he reached for his cup. I knew this was going to happen so I leaned forward and snatched it first. "Drink any more, and you'll start spilling things you don't intend to tell me." He peered at me with distaste as I drained the drink into the sink. "Well?"

After another heavy sigh, he seemed to realize that it was for the better to let out his worries than to keep it in with alcohol. I always knew what was best for everyone.

"Last night, San dragged me out of our hotel room, and told me about his..." Wooyoung glanced at me here, garnering my reaction, yet he had barely said anything at this point. "His and his father's bank accounts in Korea."