𝙱𝚊𝚗𝚐 𝙲𝚑𝚊𝚗 𝙾𝚗𝚎𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚝𝚜

𝙵𝚒𝚛𝚎

TW: Fire, major character injuries, near death experience

hurtfic

No one expects it.

Which is how most things work, honestly.

One moment everything is calm, the studio lights dim as Chan hums quietly to himself, mixing beats.

The others are down several levels, in the practice room, a late night rehearsal. For once, Chan knows the choreo well enough to be exempt.

That's how it starts.

Then there is a flash of light, an alarm sounding, blaring in his ears. An acrid scent, heat and smoke and metal, fills the room.

Chan's stomach drops, realisation dawning upon him.

Please, God, no.

He's been trained enough in the event of disasters to know what this means.

Fire.

He stands, saving his work before hurrying to the studio door. He cautiously places his hand on the doorknob.

It is cool, yet when he steps into the hall, he is assaulted by a wave of smoke, grey, brown, red.

He turns on his heel, pulling his shirt over his mouth, making his way down the corridor as fast as he dares.

He reaches the stairwell moments before the fire does.

It must've started several levels above his studio, he reasons, thanking his lucky stars their rehearsal room is on the lower half of the building.

Chan wants to laugh, cry, scream as he turns, facing the fire again. He is crouching, tears running down his face, whether from fear or the smoke, he doesn't know.

As he makes his way down the stairs, step by cautious step, the only thought racing through his head is are the kids alright?

He prays, harder than he ever has in his life, that they are, that they made it out, that they're safe.

It will be fine. They are with Minho and Changbin. The two would never let anything harm one of the younger members if they could help it.

He loses his balance, nearly pitching forward. He is nearly to the bottom, yet he can hear the fire following him.

Pieces of the ceiling, of floors above are falling around him, orange and red and white.

The inside of a building that is on fire is surprisingly dark. Dark and smoky, illuminated only by the flames following Chan, reaching for him with their scorching arms, longing to claim him as their own.

They are moving faster than he is. Chan lets out a strangled sob, tears streaking through the ash and grime on his face. He's not going to make it. He's going to die here, trapped in this fiery hell.

Movement catches his eye, and when he looks up, he's met with the sight of a chunk of ceiling, heading straight for him.

He doesn't have time to move.