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fairyniceyeah · 2 days ago

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💎🍊Like the sky

Title from 24H (SEVENTEEN)

Summary: Seungkwan did not want to be always thought of as the kid that puked on the plane next to Na PD. That ship - plane? - had sailed and sunk, though, along with Seungkwan’s dignity.

CW: emeto

Sickie: Seungkwan Caretakers: Jeonghan + DK/Seokmin + Na PD

Seungkwan was excited. How could he not be? They were flying to Italy of all places. He had never been to Europe before and neither had the members. That alone was more than enough to make him forgive Na PD that they were dragged from their hotel rooms in the middle of the night.

It was really refreshing to navigate an airport without fans swarming them, after all not even the group and most of their managers had known about the flight times being fake. Even the transfer in Incheon (except for Mingyu’s lost and found passport) had been relaxed. Seungkwan still could barely believe that they were doing “Youth over flowers” - or “Nana Tour” as they called it - even as he told his eomma about it, minutes before their flight to Incheon had taken off.

It was starting to sink in when he sat down in his middle row seat between Vernon and Na PD in the airplane to Rome. While most of the members were exhausted after the concerts and the lack of sleep, Seungkwan couldn’t feel more awake. While Vernon fell asleep next to him, Seungkwan started chatting with Na PD.

Yet by the time lunch was handed out by the flight attendants, Seungkwan was starting to feel tired. He had been in the group celebrating after the concert after all, together with Mingyu, Joshua, Dino and Hoshi. And while most of the others had napped, Seungkwan had stayed awake during the flights. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to sleep, he was just too excited and anxious about their time in Italy.

Vernon woke up by himself from the noise of food getting handed out - or maybe it was just his intuitive sense whenever food was around - and he dug in, clearly very hungry. Seungkwan, for some reason, did not feel hungry at all. He stirred the bibimbap around half-heartedly but couldn’t find it in himself to take more than a bite. It tasted good, but he … well, he felt weird. Off. He couldn’t place it. Maybe he was just tired.

But as he leaned back, intending on rest, sleep still wouldn’t come. No matter how much he tossed and turned, he couldn’t feel comfortable. Maybe it was the motion of the plane? It wasn’t like Seungkwan to dislike planes, per se, but right now he felt the motor whirring to an extreme.

Restlessness overcame him and he pushed the button to get his seat upright again, taking his earphones off. Maybe moving around a bit would help. They had been trapped on the plane for some hours now after all.

“Oh, Seungkwan”, Na PD said surprised, looking over. The producer had been working on his laptop doing one thing or another, but now he focused on the maknae-line member again. “I thought you wanted to sleep.”

“I did. I do”, Seungkwan admitted, running his fingers through his hair. On his other side, Vernon ignored their conversation, focused on his movie. “I guess I am still on too much adrenaline for that. Can you let me through? I want to walk around a bit, stretch my legs, you know.”

“Yeah, hold on”, Na PD agreed, letting Seungkwan slip past him into the aisle.

Seungkwan smiled to himself a bit as he wandered down the aisle. In the row in front of his, Dino, Hoshi and Jeonghan were all knocked out asleep. He had seen Dino eat but he was pretty sure that Hoshi, after all his alcohol consumption the previous night, and Jeonghan, always so tired after concerts, had not woken up for lunch. He made a mental note to make sure they ate dinner at least.

He spotted Joshua completely engrossed by a movie on his phone, while Jun was asleep in the middle seat next to a manager. Further in the front, Seokmin took off his headphones as he saw Seungkwan walk past. Next to him, Mingyu was passed out, mouth open and slightly snoring.

“Hey, Kwannie”, Seokmin said with a wide grin, “I still can’t believe we’re going to Italy together.”

“Me neither”, Seungkwan replied, leaning against the side of Mingyu’s seat. “Manager-nim, how could you betray us like that?”

The manager next to Seokmin laughed. “Don’t whine, Seungkwan-ah. You all wanted a surprise, after all. It worked well, didn’t it?”

“True. Anyways, I will leave you to your devices. I don’t wanna wake Mingyu-hyung and I do want to stretch my legs.”

“Ha, don’t care about Mingyu. He just woke up for lunch and fell asleep again. If he sleeps the whole flight away he won’t be able to sleep tonight when we arrive. In Rome.”

“In Rome”, Seungkwan agreed, “wow, I still can’t believe it. It’s gonna be amazing. Enjoy your movie.”

Seungkwan walked down to the front of the plane, where in the first row Woozi, Minghao and Wonwoo sat. Well, Minghao sat. Woozi and Wonwoo were asleep. Minghao looked up at Seungkwan and waved, taking off his earphone on one ear.

“Seungkwan-ah, what’s up?”

“Just stretching my legs. I feel weird, cagey. Restless. I think I’m just nervous for Italy”, Seungkwan said. “How about you?”

“Well, currently, bored out of my mind”, Minghao replied, rolling his eyes. “I feel like I watched everything already. And my seat mates are … not helpful.”

“Woozi-hyung again asleep the whole flight?”, Seungkwan asked with a laugh. It was well known that Woozi would sleep through any travels if they let him. They couldn’t blame him, he always worked so hard and rest was difficult to come by at some points in his life, especially before tours. So of course he would take any chance he could get to sleep.

“I don’t think he realized how tired he was until he basically passed out the moment he sat down. I actually had to tuck him in.” The dancer shook his head fondly. “Wonwoo-hyung betrayed me after lunch. I think the only thing that helped him stay awake before was the thought of food.”

Seungkwan laughed again. “Maybe get some rest yourself then. Italy is gonna be fun but exhausting too, I believe.”

“Yeah, I will. Try to sleep too, Kwannie. You’re looking really pale and tired.”

With a last wave, Seungkwan walked on, finding the bathroom occupied. No matter. He rounded the middle row in the front where the flight attendants were standing and preparing another drinks cart. There was where he really noticed the shaking of the plane under his feet, causing him to stumble a bit. Nevertheless, he pushed on, set on at least walking up to their row and maybe around again.

First, however, bathroom.

The bathroom on the other side of the aisle luckily was free, so he slipped inside, cursing as he stumbled again. What was wrong with him? The lights of the bathroom weren’t even that bright but suddenly they seemed blinding.

Maybe he would just walk back to his seat and sleep after all. Exhaustion hit him like a truck.

He exited the bathroom and walked back, down the other side of the aisle, passing a sleeping front row, Seokmin waving at him, Joshua still staring at his phone but this time with drooping eyes and another sleeping row of members. Without looking up from his phone, Vernon moved his legs to the side, letting Seungkwan crash into his middle seat.

Seungkwan put his earphones in again and leaned back, though not yet reclining his seat. He took out his phone and put on his comfort playlist. Then, the helpless phone-addict he was, instead of putting his phone away, he opened his gallery and scrolled through his photos. He instantly missed Seungcheol when he spotted the group picture they had taken after the first concert night. It took some time until he could pull himself away from his phone and even by then he couldn’t sleep.

He felt incredibly tired and yet something kept him from entering dreamland. There was a weird feeling in his stomach, one he couldn’t place at all. Well, he didn’t want to place. Because it felt distinctly like nausea.

Seungkwan wasn’t as prone to motion sickness as other members (cough, Jeonghan, cough, Jun, cough, Woozi, cough, Minghao, cough, Vernon) but flights somehow did it for him. Especially when he was overly tired after concerts and had not slept for quite some time. Which … which fit his situation like a lid on a pot. Surely his late night activities had not helped at all.

But that couldn't be happening. Not when he was trapped between squeamish Vernon and friendly, but still a stranger and a respected sunbaenim, Na PD. Not when he was looking so much forward to Europe. Not when he had taken his motion sickness meds just in case.

… damn, he had not taken them. He had packed them into his bag at the hotel. The bag that had been taken from him, as bags were not allowed in the program. And in the heat of the moment he had forgotten to take them with him.

If now was not the time but think this, when was? Fuck my life.

Seungkwan was screwed.

💎

The more he thought about it, the more nauseous and dizzy Seungkwan felt.

His stomach rolled uncomfortably and he was feeling so overheated, he had already rolled up the sleeves of his dress shirt as much as possible. He kept his eyes closed, unwilling to inflict the dizziness of open eyes upon himself.

If he was honest, he hoped that walking around would help him feel better. Sometimes it did. Sitting down made the motion of the plane even worse.

But in a strange fit of nervousness, he didn’t feel comfortable disturbing Vernon or Na PD again with wanting to pass them. Vernon was half-asleep, as far as Seungkwan had noticed and Na PD seemed to be fighting sleep as well. Seungkwan would give so much right now for the possibility of sleep.

He placed his hand on his stomach and nervously opened his eyes. The black screen in front of him mirrored his patheticness back at him. Seungkwan had to swallow as his own reflection seemed to tilt away. Looking down at the amenity pouch in the net below the TV was an airsickness bag taunting him. Seungkwan looked up instantly, feeling like the sight of it made his nausea actually worse.

No, it was not the bag at all. He really was not doing well. His mouth started to feel dry and it was then that Seungkwan knew he had lost the battle that had not yet even begun.

“Hansollie”, he whispered, shaking his best friend’s knee carefully.

Vernon opened his eyes, a bit annoyed but softened when he saw Seungkwan. “You okay?”, he mouthed.

“Yeah”, Seungkwan lied, not willing to make Vernon worry over something that had not yet happened, “I just need to use the bathroom. I think I drank a bit too much water, sorry.”

In all honesty he hadn’t been able to even entertain the thought of swallowing water for some time now but Vernon didn’t need to know that either.

“It’s fine”, Vernon replied and made space for Seungkwan to pass through, “if I fall asleep before you come back, just wake me.”

This time, as he hurried down the aisle, he ignored the members trying to talk to him, if there were any. He didn’t know. The only thing he was focused on was reaching the bathroom in time.

But as he reached the door he found the occupation symbol on “locked”. Oh no. He stumbled a step back until he hit the opposite wall, pressing a hand to his mouth. This was terrible. He wasn’t sure if he could round the aisle again in time and beside, there was another passenger - an older gentleman who had been terribly confused by the members - heading to it now.

Seungkwan couldn’t help the slight whimper as his throat tightened and his mouth began to salivate. The nausea was ever present now, unable to be pushed aside for anything. Seungkwan was sure if the person inside didn’t open the door in the next minute he’d throw up right there in the aisle of the plane. The thought alone nearly brought tears to his eyes.

He contemplated waking one of the members in the front row, but with the side of the aisle he was on, he would only be able to reach Woozi - who would not wake easily now that he was asleep. And there was nothing they could do anyways.

Suddenly. The lock clicked and the door opened, showing Seokmin.

“Seungkwan?”, the older vocalist asked, confused, when he saw him, but the maknae was running out of time.

“Move”, he gasped, going so far to pull Seokmin into the aisle and push past him. He didn’t even manage to make it to the toilet. Sick sprayed from between his fingers as he leaned over the sink, gagging and retching and crying.

“Oh. Oh. Kwannie”, Seokmin whispered, stunned. Right, the door was still open.

Seungkwan couldn’t answer him, too preoccupied with turning himself inside out. He retched, actually feeling the huge wave of vomit coming up his throat before it splattered into the poor sink that was definitely not made for being puked into. Already it was clogging. Seokmin, too, realized.

One of his hands reached for Seungkwan’s back, gently turning the violently sick member towards the toilet in a moment of respite. With their changed positions Seokmin was even able to close the door behind himself for which Seungkwan was so endlessly thankful.

His knees buckled with the next strain of vomiting and carefully Seokmin guided him to the floor. If Seungkwan hadn’t felt disgusting before, he would have started then. Kneeling in a public bathroom, an airplane bathroom even worse, was without doubt the most revolting thing Seungkwan had ever done. Just the thought sent more vomit up into the metal bowl below him.

“Kwannie. Kwannie”, Seokmin whispered, rubbing his back and using his other hand to hold Seungkwan up by his shoulder, “breathe. You’re okay. You’re gonna be okay.”

Slowly, very slowly, Seungkwan’s stomach calmed down. He spat into the toilet below him and after a few moments he felt well enough to lean back into the comforting embrace of the older vocalist. Seokmin rubbed his shoulder and pressed a kiss to Seungkwan’s temple.

“What’s happening?”, he asked gently, reaching up to flush the mess away, “did you feel sick earlier too? Are you hungover?”

Seungkwan shook his head, flushing in embarrassment. He wasn’t sure if being hungover would be preferable to being airsick. Maybe. At least he would only have himself to blame.

“I didn’t get to take my motion sickness meds.”

“That explains it.” Seokmin sighed. “Alright, do you feel well enough to go back to your seat? I don’t think staying here will help.”

Seungkwan could only nod in agreement and with Seokmin’s help he managed to stand up, more or less. His vision swirled and he nearly would have fallen if his hyung didn’t wrap a strong arm around his waist. “I got you, Kwannie.”

When they stepped outside after cleaning up they were greeted by a worried flight attendant who mustered Seungkwan up and down before giving him a slight smile. “Not feeling so good, huh?”

“Sorry”, Seungkwan managed, hanging his head. If he wasn’t already so hot from the nausea he was sure his face would be burning with humiliation right now.

“It happens”, she said, “sit down, I’ll get you some airsickness bags and some ginger ale. Do you want some motion sickness pills too?”

“Thank you so much”, Seokmin said, “please, that would be so helpful.”

💎

It was a bit awkward to walk down the aisle together and Seungkwan swore he could feel the eyes of all passengers on him at his walk of shame. It didn’t help that he had to hold onto Seokmin to stay upright, vision swirling and disorienting him.

Minghao was watching them with worry as they passed, as did Wonwoo. They must have woken up from the commotion after all. Seeing how pitiful Seungkwan looked, guessing what had happened wasn’t hard.

“Airsick?”, Wonwoo immediately concluded. Seungkwan didn’t have the strength to reply, more focused on staying upright. He felt Seokmin nod behind him more than he saw.

Minghao reached over the still sleeping Woozi to gently squeeze Seungkwan’s hand. “Feel better soon. If you need anything, let us know. I will even face Woozi-hyung’s wrath if I have to wake him to help you.”

Seungkwan couldn’t help but giggle wetly. It was always a bit funny when Woozi tried yelling at one of the members (not that he would ever admit that, he liked living, thank you very much), his height just making it look cute. Especially if Mingyu was his victim, then it was just funny to see the taller member basically shrink away, despite their size difference, intimidated.

“Thanks”, he whispered.

Seokmin ushered him along the aisle, stopping when they arrived at the row he shared with a manager and the now awake Mingyu, who looked concerned but also a bit weary. He too wasn't a fan of vomit, like Vernon, so Seungkwan couldn't blame him.

The older vocalist quickly informed the worried manager about the situation but firmly told him they had it under control and would take care of Seungkwan themselves. Seungkwan was thankful - while the members were all tired and deserved their sleep - he couldn’t imagine getting taken care of by a manager.

They walked past Joshua, who was now definitely asleep while holding his phone still playing his movie, and Jun, still sleeping.

It seemed like Jeonghan and Hoshi had either been woken up by Seungkwan’s earlier hasty escape from his seat or on their own. No matter what, they looked incredibly worried when Seungkwan and Seokmin approached. Seungkwan wasn’t sure what tipped them off that something was wrong but maybe it was his … everything. Jeonghan instantly stood up as soon as they were close, opening his arms. Seungkwan took a step forward and fell into his second-oldest hyung’s arms.

“Hannie-hyung”, he whispered, clutching the back of Jeonghan’s shirt and pressing his face into his front to hide himself from the world and the ever present dizziness. “I don’t feel good.”

“Seungkwannie”, Jeonghan mumbled, pressing a kiss to the top of Seungkwan’s head. “You threw up?”

Seungkwan nodded against his chest.

“Are you hungover or airsick or sick sick?”, Hoshi asked, patting Seungkwan’s arm from where he could barely reach him.

“Airsick, I think”, Seungkwan replied.

“Aish, Kwannie”, Hoshi said, “did the meds not help this time?”

“I didn’t take them.”

“Why would you not?” Jeonghan sounded curious and confused at the same time. “You know how you get on long flights.”

“I know, I know. It's just the … the meds were in my bag.”

Instantly he felt Jeonghan stiffen in anger. It wasn’t the show’s fault, nobody’s fault, it had just been a bad row of decisions. Yet, Jeonghan looked ready to burn something or someone to the ground. Sure, Seungkwan understood where he was coming from and they all knew how overprotective he could be, but he didn’t want a fuss. And he most certainly didn’t want Jeonghan to yell at poor Na PD, who he was eyeing already.

“Hyung”, Seungkwan said, tugging at Jeonghan’s hand, “I just want to sleep. Stay with me?”

“Of course, baby”, Jeonghan said, his anger leaving instantly. “Aish, what are we going to do with you?” His eyes narrowed on DK. “Seokminnie, have you slept during the flight?”

Seokmin’s eyes widened in return and he shook his head.

“Sit”, Jeonghan ordered, pointing at his own seat. “Sleep. I’ll go sit with Kwannie in the back and Vernon should be far away enough in your seat, I think. We don’t need him to freak out.”

Seungkwan ended up on Seokmin’s lap with Hoshi holding his hand, while Jeonghan woke a confused Vernon and sent him to Seokmin’s old seat by Mingyu. Vernon gave Seungkwan a worried glance but he also hurried away quickly, so making him leave was a good decision.

“Come here, baby”, Jeonghan said, pulling Seungkwan up again and moving him to his middle seat in the last row. “I know this isn’t really a good space for cuddles but I’ll stay with you, okay? Do you think you could sleep?”

Seungkwan managed to get a second to think about the question when the flight attendant arrived with supplies. She looked really sympathetic to his plight and she even brought ice chips and extra pillows in case he wanted them. Jeonghan gratefully took the supplies, placing the ice chips, the motion sickness pills and the ginger ale onto the tray in front of him, then took all but one airsickness bag and tucked them next to their shared armrest, handing the leftover one to Seungkwan just in case of immediate emergency. The pillows were placed onto Jeonghan’s seat for now, so Seungkwan could get adjusted.

“Are you comfy?”, Jeonghan asked once everything was arranged for maximum comfort and he thanked the flight attendant repeatedly.

Seungkwan shrugged. “As comfy as I can be. I’m still so hot and nauseous.”

“Do you need to be sick again?” Jeonghan reached up and brushed Seungkwan’s hair from his face.

“Not yet.”

“So you think you’re going to at some point?”

Seungkwan nodded, feeling embarrassed again. He couldn’t help but be very aware of the fact that Na PD was sleeping beside him.

Jeonghan sighed and adjusted himself so he sat cross legged on the seat, facing Seungkwan, his back to the aisle. “Do you want to try the pills?”

Seungkwan shook his head. There was no way he could swallow anything right now.

“Alright. Why don’t you lean back and try to sleep through it? If that doesn’t work, we’ll see how else to help you. I promise I’m gonna stay right here with you.”

💎

Seungkwan managed to doze a bit. He never was truly asleep but he was finally sleepy. And Jeonghan’s hand in his hair was comforting. He thought he heard the older vocalist talk to somebody a few times but he was too tired to open his eyes.

But that state of peace couldn’t hold on for eternity.

If he had to guess, it was maybe an hour after he had thrown up, when Seungkwan felt his stomach start to churn in that dangerous way again. He opened his eyes panically, pushing himself up a bit from his reclined position. Jeonghan was still sitting next to him and he smiled gently when he saw Seungkwan wake up.

“Hey, baby, how are you feeling?”

“Not good”, Seungkwan groaned, “Hannie-hyung…”

“Oh, oh. Okay.” Jeonghan instantly understood what Seungkwan was unable to say out loud. “Here you go.”

An airsickness bag was placed into his hands, already opened. Seungkwan bent over it, opening his mouth. Spit dangled down his lips but he couldn’t help it. Swallowing was out of the question.

One of Jeonghan’s hands moved to his hair, the second took hold of the bag as well. It was probably a good idea, Seungkwan’s hands felt terribly shaky and sweaty, and he didn’t know if he had the strength to hold the bag on his own.

A sudden burp had Seungkwan whine in nervousness but then bitterness rose in his throat and filled his mouth, making him feel like he was choking. With a tiny cry, Seungkwan spat the vomit into the bag, triggering another wave to come up. He gagged harshly and loudly, feeling his cheeks heat up. He did not want people to hear or watch but what could he do?

Jeonghan kept whispering sweet reassurances, but Seungkwan was distracted by a hand on his back. Unless his hyung had suddenly grown a third hand, it wasn’t his. And from the direction it seemed to come…

Seungkwan’s musing were interrupted by another burp and more sick spilling into the already pretty full bag below him. He gagged and retched, just trying to get more sick up in hopes it would make his misery end sooner.

“Let go, Kwan-ah”, Jeonghan mumbled, “I got another bag for you here, if you need it.”

Seungkwan let go of the full bag reluctantly, feeling somebody take it from him. As soon as the new bag was in front of his mouth, Seungkwan retched again but this time nothing came up. He dry-heaved repeatedly until his throat was raw but he couldn’t help it.

“Breathe, love”, Jeonghan encouraged, “it’s okay, you’re done for now.”

Seungkwan groaned but managed to stop the useless heaving. He fell back against his backrest in exhaustion, silent tears streaming down his face. A cold cloth started patting his mouth, cleaning rests of vomit and spit away, and Seungkwan opened his eyes.

Jeonghan was smiling at him but as Seungkwan became more aware of his surroundings he felt horror washing over him. Na PD was awake and, oh God, he was placing the clearly full puke bag into a plastic bag a flight attendant held out for him.

The famed producer had obviously witnessed Seungkwan’s … episode and now he was even disposing of the evidence. Seungkwan couldn’t help but burst into hysterical tears. It was so humiliating and Seungkwan did not want to be always thought of as the kid that puked on the plane next to him. That ship had sailed and sunk, though, along with Seungkwan’s dignity.

“Kwan-ah, baby, don’t cry”, Jeonghan whispered, leaning forward and wrapping his arms around the sobbing maknae. Seungkwan buried his face in Jeonghan’s neck, whole body trembling with his cries. “Don’t cry. You’ll make yourself sick again.”

A warm hand came to rest on Seungkwan’s back again, rubbing comforting circles. Seungkwan managed to stifle his cries slowly, aware that he was making a scene. Again.

“That’s it”, Jeonghan encouraged, pressing a kiss to Seungkwan’s hair, “we know you’re tired and not feeling well, it’s okay.”

As Seungkwan removed himself from his hyung’s arms, pulling his knees to his chest, he became aware that Na PD was watching him and that it was his hand on Seungkwan’s back.

“I’m sorry, PD-nim”, Seungkwan apologized, bowing his head. It was bad enough that nearly the whole group and the managers were involved. It wasn’t Na PD’s job to take care of Seungkwan.

“Why are you sorry, Seungkwannie?”, Na PD asked, genuine confusion in his voice, “if anybody it should be us who are sorry. Jeonghannie told me that you had meds in the bag we confiscated. I can understand that in the stress of last night you forgot to take it with you, we should have made sure to remind you to take medication with yourselves.”

“I should have remembered”, Seungkwan mumbled, “I know how flights affect me. Besides, I am pretty sure that Joshua-hyung and Woozi-hyung didn’t forget their meds.”

“Everybody makes mistakes or forgets stuff sometimes”, Na PD comforted, still rubbing Seungkwan’s back, “but, yeah, I am pretty sure Woozi at least got his meds with the way he is sleeping. I think the flight attendants were actually worried if he was still breathing.”

Seungkwan laughed at that. He knew Na PD was trying to cheer him up and he wasn’t ashamed to admit it helped. “No, that’s just Woozi-hyung’s speciality of being able to sleep until he is woken. If we hadn’t left when we did, the road manager team would have found him in the same uncomfortable sleeping position at the hotel hours later.”

Jeonghan joined into the laughter. “Kwannie is right. Jihoonie is ridiculous like that.”

Na PD was the first to sober up from the laughing fit, gently asking: “Are you feeling better now, Seungkwan? Is there anything we can do to help you?”

Seungkwan was still a bit embarrassed but he understood that Na PD didn’t care about the situation at all which helped a bit. He nodded. “I am feeling better, I think. I want to try the meds if possible.”

Jeonghan instantly had a pill on hand, pressing it into Seungkwan’s hand and handing him a cup of ginger ale. Seungkwan managed to swallow the pill easily, for the first time realizing how bad his mouth had tasted when the ginger ale took the sour taste of bile away.

“We’re not filming much for the rest of the flight”, Na PD explained, “I think we got good content already. Stay like this if you want to. We should include dinner in a few hours where you probably should get back to your assigned seats to stop confusion on the side of the viewers. If anything happens, I got you, Seungkwannie. Just a few hours left and then we’re in Rome! Fighting, huh?”

“Fighting.” Seungkwan nodded. He curled up on his seat, set on finally getting some rest.

💎

He did end up falling asleep quickly. The next time he woke up was to a female manager waking him to ask if he wanted to eat dinner, which he declined. By that time Jeonghan had returned to his own seat, but it seemed like Vernon and Seokmin had permanently swapped seats.

“Hey, you're awake”, Na PD greeted from Seungkwan’s left. “How are you feeling?”

“Better. Good”. Seungkwan smiled. “Ready for Italy.”

Na PD wrapped an arm around his shoulder and pulled Seungkwan to rest his head on his shoulder.

“I hope you enjoy it, kiddo. You've worked hard. You deserve it.”

Masterlist links: Fairy's Full Masterlist Fairy's Masterlist - SEVENTEEN

Notes (that would probably would require their own post):

To anybody who has not watched Nana Tour, I will just explain a few things. In the beginning they are pulled from either the karaoke hotel room (Joshua, Hoshi, Mingyu, Seungkwan and Dino) where they were a bit drunk or from their hotel room beds (the rest, except for Seungcheol who knew the plan but didn't join due to his knee injury). They fly from Japan to Incheon and from Incheon to Rome.

Since I refer to that in the story:

Woozi was sleeping on top of the covers of his hotel bed, looking like he had just passed out on his bed the moment he entered the room. And he sleeps for the entirety of the like 11 hour flight. Dude was Tired.

Mingyu lost his passport in Incheon (DK had it) and DK nearly lost his at the end of the flight.

People, you won’t believe how often I watched the flight scene of Nana Tour Episode 1. At least ten times just to figure out seating arrangements. It was all in good fun though and I feel if I actually knew Korean, I could just say the lines with them now XD

In case it wasn’t clear in my writing, as far as I have seen, the seating arrangement is as follows, all of them in the three-seat middle row:

End of First Class

Vernon - Seungkwan - Na PD

Jeonghan - Hoshi - Dino

…

Joshua - Jun - ???

…

??? - DK - Mingyu

…

Woozi - Minghao - Wonwoo

Front of plane

What I noticed:

Seungkwan and Vernon are definitely in the back of first class, you can see the wall directly behind them.

Jeonghan, Hoshi and Dino are also very much in the back and from the space and angles it looks like they are directly in front of Vernon and Seungkwan.

When they returned to the plane at the beginning of the flight, after figuring out that DK had Mingyu’s passport all along, the camera passes Wonwoo and goes a few rows before DK and Mingyu are shown, so they must be somewhere in the middle.

So Wonwoo, Minghao and Woozi are more in the front and from the TV arrangement which differs from the rest of the group’s angles they must have differently designed seats, so they are likely in the very front, which also looks likely to be that way when they exit.

Joshua and Jun are never shown in any spatial relation to the others so I just put them somewhere in the middle, but I think they are further in the back than DK and Mingyu since when exiting the plane Jun at least seems to come from behind them.

The ??? I believe are managers but I don’t know. They weren’t filmed so I took creative liberty with it. Na PD also wasn’t filmed on the flight but when they look for DK’s passport (at the end of the flight), they go back to Na PD’s seat which seems to be in the back. So I concluded he sat next to Seungkwan (also for convenience of the story), since the second to last row is full and everybody else is sitting in the middle row, so he could technically only sit there.

I feel like I “researched” this so much, I needed to share that with you lol

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bamfaholic · 5 months ago

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From Eden to Sit at Your Door

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

Kurt x Reader | 2.8k words

Summary: Kurt visits home, Munich, and decides to sit across from you. With your limited vision, it takes time for you to catch on to who this man really is. Not that you're given much time at all before your life is in danger.

Summary:

You take another sip, nearly emptying your cup. “I’m sure you’re a wildcard yourself.” You offer him your name, finishing your tea. “What brings you back to Munich?”

He begins to raise his hand, perhaps offering a handshake, before quickly pulling away. He clears his throat, “Kurt Wagner, and homesickness, really. It has been years since I’ve been home.”

You offer him a sweet smile. “Welcome home, Kurt.”

Alternate summary: Kurt is on a mission, accidentally causes hijinks, and catches feelings for the reader. Even more hijinks ensue.

A/N: this originally was going to be a bullet hc of a blind!reader x Kurt and now it's a multi-part fic lol. The reader will probably turn into an oc but the cringe cop has me in cuffs

This fic has been posted to my AO3 as well! Support me and find my other works there!

On an Autmn morning, you lounged at your local café, just mere blocks from your flat. The wind nipped at the tips of your ears, rustling stray hairs free. You remained warm, though, with your wool coat and cup of peppermint tea in your palms. The harsh difference of the chilling wind and familiar warmth was a part of this routine you cherished. Slowly raising the cup to your lips, a sip warmed you from the inside out.

The workers knew you, knew your name, your story. Practically blind from birth, you couldn’t recall a time when you didn’t have a thick dark vignette frame your vision. Your eyes were often compared to translucent glass marbles, commonly in distaste. Every now and then you were even accused of being a mutant. You always replied with a scoff, wondering if simple biology had been thrown out the window ever since the Mutant Panic in the 70’s.

Though, it piqued your interest in university. You began to dig to see if mutants were similar, or even no different, than those disabled. Unfortunately, the hoops to jump through to acquire a degree with accommodations surmounted and you had to drop out. Your classmate and friend, however, still often visited to read to you scientific papers, and assisted you in writing a thesis in their free time. For now, you resorted to being an author, as you needed to express your ideas with the world.

Which is why you people watched. Each morning you had your cup of tea and watched the quick blurs and bursts of color, sometimes squinting to really focus on a detail. You listened to their words, their stories. It was all ample ammo for your works. You had fallen so lost in concentration, you failed to notice the man sit down at your table. You took a few more sips, savoring the flavors melting over your tongue. There was a flick of a distinct blue, such an unnatural color, that caught your eye.

“Ah, excuse me.” His German was natural, native, and yet there were inklings of an American influence. “I hope you don’t mind me sitting here.”

You turned your body to face him, setting your cup down on the coaster. “No, not at all.” You softly smiled. “It’s not often I have company.”

While odd in nature to encroach a stranger’s space, it didn’t bother you. You figured all the other seats were taken; it was a busy morning after all. If he was not to disturb your peace, then you would pay it no mind.

You scanned him up and down. From what you could tell, he was wearing a coat with a hood, and something a deep rich blue beneath. Lots of blue. He must really enjoy the color. Gears began to turn in your head, perhaps he could be a fountain of inspiration.

“Your eyes,” He began softly, appearing to nibble on a pastry, “I don’t think I’ve seen a color like that before.” His voice was bursting with excitement and curiosity.

You sigh, biting the inside of your cheek. Here we go... You were prepared to recite the speech you’ve given your entire life but decide to keep it short and sweet. “It’s glaucoma, my eyes shouldn’t look like this.”

“Ah, I see.” Another bite. “I apologize, I have never heard of such a condition before.”

You glance down, tracing the lip of your teacup with your fingertip. “Are you American? I hear it in your voice, but your German is perfect.” You decide to change the subject.

He chuckles, “Have I really been gone that long?” He softly mumbles to himself. “No, no I am not. I’m native to here, Munich, but I have been living in the states for some time. New York.”

“New York?” You raise a brow. “That must be so exciting.” A smile pulls at your lips. “I’ve always wanted to see the city, is it as nice as they say?”

Another chuckle, heartier and from his chest this time. “It is far too glamorized. Very dirty, stinky.” He waves a hand. “But the people there… They are truly one of a kind.”

You take another sip, nearly emptying your cup. “I’m sure you’re a wildcard yourself.” You offer him your name, finishing your tea. “What brings you back to Munich?”

He begins to raise his hand, perhaps offering a handshake, before quickly pulling away. He clears his throat, “Kurt Wagner, and homesickness, really. It has been years since I’ve been home.”

You offer him a sweet smile. “Welcome home, Kurt.”

You hear his heart beat a little harder, faster. “Ah, thank you!” His cheeriness returns, and you surmise this is this natural state of being.

Now this man really has your attention. You curse yourself for not bringing your notebook. You just simply must engage him in more conversation. “I don’t mean to pry, but I’d love to hear about your time in America, where you plan to go and do while you’re here, back home. I hope it’s not too invasive.”

His tone tells on himself, making it clear he’s excited for someone to be interested in him. “Ah, well, in America I have found family.”

There’s a quick arch of blue that blurs behind his head. You blink. Did you just hallucinate?

“They truly are a gift from God.” He shakes his head. “You asked about my time in America, no? Not my family. Ahem.” He clears his throat and straightens himself in his seat. “I was rescued, in truth, I did not have the best life here in Munich. I used to be in the circus.” A smile slips across his lips as he reminisces. “They called me ‘The Great Nightcrawler.’” He spreads his hands out and open in front of him for added effect. “I was a trapeze artist, a great one.”

You hang onto every word, but bust out a giggle, “I assumed as much, with ‘Great’ being included in ‘The Great Nightcrawler’ and all.”

Kurt stumbles over himself, “Ah, yes- I suppose you are right.” He laughs in turn. “But I flew through the air with ease, to deafening applause.”

“Did you enjoy it? It sounds like you were beloved.” You muse.

“Aye, I did.” A beat passes, and his tone suddenly shifts somber. “Doing a performance, anyway. Any other time… It was not so great, the living conditions.”

Your lips form a tight frown. You won’t push himself to share what could be hurtful. The man links his hands together in front of him on the table. “A cage,” He begins. “I was kept in a cage, like an animal. Fed scraps, if anything. Force-fed beer after shows.” A broken, awkward laugh escapes his chest, “I would suddenly be a drunkard, not even knowing where in God’s Earth I was, then thrown into that harsh cold steel.”

You knit your eyebrows together, chewing the inside of your cheek more. A nervous, unhealthy habit you developed when the gears began to turn in your head. “How?” You squeak out. “How is that possible? How could they do that, isn’t it illegal?”

There’s a great, long pause. The shuffle of the pedestrians that wade by fill your ears. “I am a man of God, friend. I entrust in Him my life, my future. If He wished for me to… Endure that trial, then who am I to question Him.”

His answer left a sour taste in your mouth. He was dodging the issue at hand, you both knew that. You take a sharp inhale through your teeth, fidgeting with the hem of your one sleeve. It wasn’t uncommon to find someone faithful, and you had no gripes against Kurt for being so devout, but you just couldn't accept it being used as an excuse for flat-out abuse.

You open your mouth to press him without much thought, but luckily something else ensnares your attention. About twenty feet down the sidewalk, across the street, you hear the chatter of two policemen.

“There he is.” The one on the left gruffs.

“I see ‘im.” The other spits, “Bloody mutant.”

A mutant? Your heart leaps. Despite your infatuation with them, hungry to know more, you nearly never got to interact with one. You whip your head around, hoping that maybe despite your impaired vision, you could spot them in the crowd. Alas, the only strange figure is… The very man seated across from you.

Your heart now pounds in your ears, adrenaline searing through your veins. “Kurt,” You lower your voice, reaching out to grab his hand. “Please, just, trust me.”

“What?” He laughs, “Is there a joke coming? What is with the sudden seriousness, friend?” But as he sees your expression, his body tenses.

“Just walk with me. Do not look behind us.”

You rise from your seat, pushing it in beneath the table, slinging your bag over your shoulder. Still gripping his hand firmly, you begin to drag him down the street, blending in with the foot traffic.

“He’s starting to get away!” Your ears burn, hearing the police notice your failure to slip away.

It is only now your heart drops as you realize you have no idea what you are doing. Your guess about Kurt being the mutant is confirmed by the police’s reaction, but you didn’t think this far ahead. Where were you even going? What was the end goal? Walk to the end of the earth, hoping the police never catch up?

“Friend-“ Kurt begins, “What is the matter? What is going on?” His words slam into each other a tad, his breath hitching and increasing. He whips his head around, trying to see whatever had spooked you.

“The police,” You begin in a hiss, “They seem to be after you. I heard it.”

“Heard it?” He’s stunned. “Heard it where?”

You quickly yank him into a tight alleyway, a mere inch separates your chests as you face him. “Shh, watch. Across the street, they’re coming towards us. I’m sure they saw us dip in here.” You’re out of breath as your heart pounds against your ribcage. “I heard them talk about a mutant.”

It’s only now, being so up close and personal, do you truly see Kurt. It’s not that he likes the color blue, he is blue. His eyes are a dazzling gold. Two tiny points threaten to peek out from his lips, little fangs. Your eyes drift down, seeing a tail that ends in a pointed spade. You surmise that must have been the blur of blue from before.

“Y-You’re the mutant.” Your voice trembles, the adrenaline putting strain on your body. The realization of the pleasant fellow you spent your morning with being so… Different. You kick yourself for thinking that way, but it’s only result of the propaganda lining the streets. Your eyes are burning holes into him. You hear the blood rush to his face and ears, heart pounding.

You clutch your cane tighter, leaning into it. It’s not the best for you, as not only do you have Glaucoma, you happen to be blessed with the co-morbidity of Sickle Cell Anemia. Your joints are weaker than a healthy individual, and intense exercise, like running from the cops, is ill-advised. Your head swims as the tachycardia hits you like a tidal wave.

“Ah-“ Kurt raises his hands, hoping it eases your panic. “Aye, I am, but I am a friend. I won’t hurt you-“

Something whizzes by, grazing the bridge of your nose. Screams ring out in the street, pedestrians scrambling in every which way.

“Halt!” One of the officers bark, pointing some form of gun at the two of you. “You are being detained, mutant!”

The other steadily approaches, reaching for something hooked to his belt. Kurt’s eyes glance from the officers to you, and he closes the gap, wrapping his arms around you. “Take a breath, this may be disorienting.”

“Kurt, what-!“ You don’t get to finish, gasping as you feel yourself being hurled at a racing speed. It takes you by such surprise, you lose grip of your cane.

A plume of smoke clouds your vision as the smell of brimstone burns your nostrils. You cough, wobbling on your feet. You were dizzy before, but this was tilt-a-whirl level of topsy-turvy. You try to use your cane to steady yourself, but find that your weight is being supported by nothing at all.

You begin to head face first to what’s beneath you, but you’re caught by Kurt, his arm wrapping around your torso. “Careful there, friend.” He softly says, lifting you up. He refuses to release you until he’s certain you won’t go tumbling.

You blink. You were just in the alleyway, but now you’re peering down the city of Munich. The cops are just below you, and you see one officer ready his gun, aiming right for Kurt.

“Kurt!” You lunge toward him, the shingles of the roof unkind to being stepped on. It begins to slip away, sending you back down with gravity.

Another shot rings out. Kurt snatches you again, by your scruff, but he didn’t foresee the hit landing on you.

A curdling scream is ripped from your lungs, you feel the pierce of a needle in your side. In an instant, it feels cold, like liquid nitrogen being pumped in your veins. You look down, seeing a vial attached to the needle. Without much thought, you reach to grab it. Whatever it is, you want it out.

“No, don’t do that-“ Kurt firmly grasps your wrist. “I’m sorry, friend, but not until I know what they just dosed you with.”

“Dosed?” Your body not only feels frigid, as if you were tossed into a snow storm naked, it’s quickly increasing in mass. Your legs are growing limp.

“Aye.” His jaw locks, his gaze scanning down at the chaos below the two of you. “We must go.” He tosses you over his shoulder and whispers, “I am sorry.”

Another brief burst of frightening motion, another plume of smoke. It feels like being pitched like a baseball at record speeds. Your tea threatens to come back up from your stomach. You groan, rolling your head to the side. It’s strange seeing such familiar buildings from a birds-eye view, but you recognize you’ve moved a few blocks away in an instant.

You suffer a few more rounds of the sickening movement, before it finally ends. You’re in a cold, quiet bell tower. You’ve lost all sense of direction. You could be halfway across the globe for all you knew.

Kurt rests you against the wall, watching as your body slumps. “I am sorry, friend.” You try to move your head up, to hold his gaze, but you can’t. Your arms lay solid on the harsh stone.

Kurt crouches down, moving your coat away to inspect the projectile lodged in your side. “I am so sorry if this hurts. Please let me know.” His voice is so soft, as if he was speaking to a new born. It comforts you. He gently cups the tube in his hand, reading the inscription on the side. “Tch, American.” He spits.

He sighs, forcing a little smile for you. “Good news and bad news, friend.” He gently frees the needle out from you, ripping a pained gasp out of you. “It is just a tranquilizer, you will not die. It also happened to hit your liver, so it will flush out of your system quicker than usual. Bad news, you will be… Like this, for quite some time.”

You can’t even respond. You’re putting all your willpower into focusing on him, keeping your eyes open.

“But fret not, I will keep you safe!” He grins, slipping the tranquilizer into his pocket. “They do not call me the Great Nightcrawler for nothing.” He chuckles, but the worry lines on his face are crisp, even with your vision.

He glances over his shoulder. The chilly air only burns as wind whips across your features. You begin to shiver. When he looks back to you, he scrambles to slip off his coat, draping it on top of you. Underneath, he wears a tight black, red, and white uniform.

Silly, you think, your rational slipping, his circus outfit, here?

“Ah, I am so sorry.” He gently wipes a tear that you hadn’t registered. “You are safe, shh. Rest.” He pats your head.

You gain your senses for a moment, frustration boiling in you. You don’t, can’t, let yourself go. Not here, not now. You blink, again and again, fighting those heavy eyelids.

In astonishment, you watch as Kurt opens your satchel, rummaging around. He pulls out your wallet. Is he… Robbing you? How could he? You grumble in protest, but it falls on deaf ears. He places your wallet back in your bag, laying it gently in your lap.

“Rest easy, friend. I will return, I promise you.”

Smoke swirls in front of you, that now familiar burning smell hits you. The last thing you can recall is noticing a rosary, of all things, resting in your palm. The face of The Messiah watches you as you helplessly black out.