"hold my beer," hoseok grimaces at the broad man sitting next to him, he stares at the man for an intense half a second and nods with little hesitation (though he holds the can of beer anyway). "i'll be back!" the man says, an wide grin plastered on his face before heading off to somewhere hoseok can only imagine. he's been around this airport for years, long enough to know that there's no other place souls can linger around except this abondoned building; away from real people and the real airport itself.
funny how this airport was built next to a functioning and existing airport for living humans— must've been something about making it a realistic approach to it— makes it even funnier, actually, everything about this place is extremely far from reality.
he puts the can of beer down on the man's seat. he doesn't have to hold it at all— goddamn it, he wipes his hand with his pants.
fast planes zooming through the air make the place tremble ever so slightly.
hoseok looks at his hands, shivering and blue, being dead for this long is just, for the lack of better word, cold. he scrunches his nose and slips his hands into the pockets of his dress pants.
why dress pants, you may ask?
apparently he died while on his way to work. his life must've been a boring one. ah, maybe a 9-5 office worker with no family and no pets? these very old-fashioned dress pants, suit, and tie says alot (or maybe just enough), not that he actually knows who he was before he became a soul anyway.
whatever happened to his body remains unknown to him, same goes to the people he left behind.
everything feels like they're lurking in the back of his mind, achingly distant for him to grasp.
every single day, things rumble in his head till they settle, only to repeat the cycle from square one. he can only endure enough for all his life (or afterlife).
he's been dead for 2 long decades (that is if he can still count decently) and for that long, he's been watching other souls recieve flowers, food, or clothes from their loved ones during death anniversaries or whatever. humans are so sentimental. ew.
who needs those when they're a cold dead body buried six feet under? it's not like they need food nor flowers they can't smell.
but at least they get to change clothes? god, hoseok's (suspected) office uniform is sickening.
the speakers buzz slightly, a little static, a bit annoying, but decent enough.
when the lights flash and his vision starts to blur— suddenly, the place isn't so lifeless (ironic) anymore. the faded walls and run down utilities are suddenly of function.
things seem to be as humanly normal as they can be, anyone would have mistaken this place as a normal airport lobby even if they look closely.
as the speaker rambles through the silence of hurried souls for departure, the broad-man comes back with hurried footsteps, his handsome face not as bright as it was when he left.
hoseok can clearly notice his discomfort from his seat, so he turns away to pretend like he saw nothing.
he wonders his attention to something more worth his time, eyes lingering on hundreds of names flashed on the floating bulletin board.
"thanks for keeping the seat," the man says, hoseok can see the little smile he probably has on without even looking, "and for holding my beer." the man adds, chugging from the can once more.
hoseok ignores him, sighing as he scans to the end of the list. he chews his bottom lip in fear of the bubbling flurry of disappointment.
his lips hurt as they are chapped and pale. his nerves buzz under his skin whilst his frustration ties a tight knot in his throat.
YOU ARE READING
alive & well (BTS)
Fanfiction"i don't think there's any flight back." "free fall it is then." "fine, break a couple bones if you will." "we're already dead. what's left to lose?" "i know i am, but you're not." in a world where souls are boarded into a celestial plane to send...
