His grocery bags fell from his hands as he was slammed into the wall, crying out around the hand on his throat. He raised both arms, hands trying to pull it from him. He was gripping too tight, he couldn't properly breathe. He hadn't been doing anything but getting food, he hadn't restoked in days and he told Cheon multiple times.

The drugs were clearly fucking with his memory, on top of everything else. "Stop!" Meng Yao slapped against his arm, trying to get some breath in.