hell or flying | Chaelisa

Chapter 14

Chanyeol didn't say a word and opted for watching me instead. The silence was deafening, and I was sure you could hear my heavy breathing in the room's silence. He usually had so much to say, so not having him say a word scared me more than was he yelling. I was anticipating something that wasn't coming and the longer he stayed silent, the more terrifying it became. He was a man that was easily angered, especially when things didn't go the way he wanted, and clearly, me bolting out of his office was not something he was hoping for.

Nervously, I stood before his desk, hands behind my back, fingers entwined, squeezing my own hands in the reassurance that I'd be okay. And though I knew I should say something, explain myself, I was struggling to form words under his intense stare.

Awkwardness was not something I wanted to add to the already tensed atmosphere in the room, so I decided against clearing my throat before speaking the words I rehearsed prior to leaving the restrooms. It just didn't seem like the brightest idea in the world. So instead, I dropped my eyes to the ground, eyeing the tips of my shoes, and spoke quietly that if the room wasn't already dead silent, he wouldn't have heard me.

"I'm sorry,"

He hummed disinterestedly and my throat tightened because even if he seemed completely bored, something about that spoke more volume than him being clearly angry. I wondered if he would say something, anything to acknowledge my apology, or if I should just get to the point of why I left suddenly. But it scared me that the moment I'd open my mouth, he'd start speaking and I would accidentally cut him off. He would hate that.

Seeing as he hasn't made a move to speak, though, I swallowed the lump in my throat and continued with my apology even if he looked like he was on the verge of dismissing me with a wave of a hand.

"I didn't mean to run out like that. I became sick and had to get to the restroom before I made a mess," I chuckled nervously after that as if I was embarrassed to say something like that.

"Whatever," he said finally, but it didn't elevate my nerves. If anything, they heightened with his vague answer.

There were only two versions of angry Chanyeol, one worse than the other. The immediate and absolute rage, and the one where he would act nonchalant and unbothered for some time before exploding like an active volcano with suffocating dust and fiery hot magma covering everything in its path. And that something would always end up being me.

"Please don't be mad," I pleaded as I carefully rounded his desk, taking a tentative step at a time.

"I'm not mad,"

"Yes you are, I can tell,"

"I said I wasn't mad," he growled.

"Okay then," I tried a different approach, hoping my prying wasn't fueling his anger further, "Why are you upset? What can I do to make you feel better? Something is not right, I can see how tense your shoulders are." I begged that the answer to my question wouldn't be anything crude or sexual, but thankfully his eyes didn't seem to glint the way they did when he was thinking of those things.

"Fine," he huffed and turned in his swivel chair to face me, his eyebrows knitted together, creasing his forehead, "Why do you keep doing this?"

"Huh?" I was confused, "What do you mean?"

"Oh, don't act like you don't know," he spat, "Are you really sick all the damn time?"

"W-what-...of course, I am. I'm pregnant,"

"Funny how it always happens when you're with me,"

"I don't have control over it, and trust me it's not pleasant for me either,"