Chapter Text
———
12:30 PM KOREAN STANDARD TIME
4:30 AM CENTRAL EUROPEAN TIME
There were quite a few studies on why people appeared more attractive in airports, some papers, some stories— at least five or so. And Seokjin was certainly prepared to be the subject of the next booming one, in his best plane t-shirt and jeans, a true sight for red-eyes.
Waiting in line to check in was just as boring as Seokjin remembered, fortunately. Everything from his fatigue-induced headache to his aching feet were killing him, but he was able to prepare for most of the soreness with his Fila sneakers (they were comfortable and provided great foot support, perhaps everyone should consider buying a pair).
His good memory deserved all the thanks— the last time he boarded a plane was nearly three years ago for work on the other side of the country, his last meaningful job offer for a while. And his mother, thank her for checking in on him. Or maybe it was him who’d called his mom first, because that was how it should be even though he had forgotten to for months. Either way, all was well.
Standing on one foot and leaning against his suitcase so he could rest one tired foot at a time, Seokjin contemplated calling his mom again while he waited. He decided against it, though; he didn’t want to be asked if he had recently started any new projects, written any new scripts, and be scolded when he said he didn’t. The vacation was meant to be a way to refresh his mind and skills, but his mom wouldn’t let it rest that it was a waste of money. He was a very grown man, he could do as he saw fit.
Anyway, they were good. His mom was okay, Seokjin was okay (his aching feet weren’t, but he could pretend they were, as he could all else).
Seokjin yawned. He stepped forward, and the line ahead was finally down to one person in front of him.
“Sorry, sir. Your luggage is overweight,” the agent behind the counter said. Seokjin was not eavesdropping. What was that again?
Peeking from behind the guitar case strung across the back of the guy in front of him, Seokjin saw a small keyboard sticking out of the guy's suitcase. Perhaps he was transporting a band's equipment across the country, or maybe he had four hands and was a one-man show. This, Seokjin wondered, with the type of prompts handed out in a seven-year-old's language arts class to keep himself occupied.
“That's alright,” the guy in front of Seokjin, with the guitar case strung across his back, said smoothly, and it sounded rehearsed, or prepared as if he heard that his luggage was overweight at least five times before. Seokjin guessed his tone was most likely the latter when the guy immediately pulled out his wallet (with some struggle, because the guitar case seemed to block his pocket), and took out some cash. Squinting, Seokjin read the bills to— “This covers the overweight baggage fee, yes?”
“Uh.” The agent leafed through the bills, “Yes, exactly. Thank you.”
The guy in front of Seokjin nodded. Seokjin stepped back, out of the guy's space before he could notice Seokjin peering over his shoulder.
———
3:09 PM KOREAN STANDARD TIME
7:09 AM CENTRAL EUROPEAN TIME
It was a pleasing thing, really, to go to the airport and see that the tour group he’d bought tickets with was 3/4 rich, retired people. That people in any age group could buy themselves a breather, if they were able to drop the money. Then again, this was considering what kind of person traveled in the typically busy beginning of February.
There were about two other people who Seokjin was certain were around his age; the tour guide and a college-ish kid with his parents. This was excluding the middle-aged aunties who must have some magical anti-aging cream and the third guy who truthfully looked closest to Seokjin’s age, but also like this was the first time the burden of 70 years of saying, ‘back in my day,' was lifted off his shoulders.
They had all been gathered in front of their terminal by the tour guide, a dimpled guy who had folded his brochure back into itself incorrectly. Seokjin was standing after having offered his seat to a friendly grandpa with too much luggage for his own good.
“Hello, if I could have everyone’s attention please,” the tour guide raised his voice slightly above the chatter, and instantly turned all but a couple heads. He seemed to mumble a head count, gestures with the wrongly folded brochure hopping from person to person before he clapped his hands together. “Right, I think we have almost everyone so it is safe to begin now. We’ll be boarding in twenty, twenty-five minutes, so if you could give me a bit of your time, I’ll be taking attendance.”
Seokjin leaned forward, his grip on his suitcase handle tilting it with him. One by one, people made known of their presence.
“Park Yonghwan?”
“Good morning!”
Hands bobbed up, voices too, more often than not.
“Min Yoongi?”
“Hello.”
“Hi, hyung. Lee Jaehan?”
The man who Seokjin gave his seat to raised both arms, “That would be me!”
“Nice to meet you. Kim Seokjin?”
“I’m here.” Seokjin said, clear. His hand was lifted for barely more than a second, given the nod by the tour guide to put it down soon enough, but a few of the travelers still turned their heads to him.
At least, he hadn’t completely failed at his job as the screenwriter that audience members liked best in front of the camera. Seokjin winked at the first guy he made eye-contact with.
“Pleasure! Hm,” the tour guide turned his sheet of paper over, “Jeon Hyunjung and family?”
“We,” the woman who spoke looked to the two seats beside her, the college-ish kid sinking down in his, “are all here. Jungkook-ah, sit straight—”
“Alright, welcome. It’s nice to see we’re all here, except for— uh, maybe two people? Yes.” The tour guide clapped his hands together and straightened his cap. “Well, hello, I’m your tour guide, Kim Namjoon. As you know, we’ll be boarding shortly. It’s nearly a twelve and a half hour flight, so I hope we’re all prepared and excited! Make sure our bums don’t get restless…”
Seokjin snorted. The guy looked pleased to have gotten a couple chuckles from the group.
While people gathered themselves and Namjoon continued to explain things regarding seating and meeting spots, Seokjin tried to spot their airplane out the huge window. There wasn’t much telling, but it was mildly fun anyway.
This was the break he’d been looking for, and he was anticipating it, whether that be with excitement or nerves concerning whether he'd packed enough underwear in case he peed himself twice a day. But he was anticipating it, for sure.
———
5:25 PM KOREAN STANDARD TIME
9:25 AM CENTRAL EUROPEAN TIME
At first, Seokjin thought the window seat would be a good idea, but he was now feeling the effects of not wanting to force his butt in his fellow passengers' faces. Also, his latest, and certainly not proudest, work was on the laptop of the passenger next to him. Shoot, he wasn't prepared for this, his Fila sneakers couldn't help him now.
"Sorry, what movie is that?" Seokjin acted like his gaze had just been wandering, until it landed on the shiny head of the fisherman on screen, and the single, thick strand of hair standing upright on it. Now that … there was no distracting himself from that. He named that fisherman.
Below and around them, the airplane rumbled like it’d run over a speedbump in the air. The passenger he’d been trying to talk to didn’t hear him.
Seokjin’s eyes flickered between looking at the laptop and the guy. It was the one with a young face but old eyes, hunched shoulders.
“It’s, uh—” the passenger began answering suddenly. There was no hiding Seokjin had jumped a bit, crap, but he wore his best, almost award-winning polite smile when the passenger twisted to look at him. It was a bit like he was being evaluated to win an award too, when the passenger looked him up and down, slowly with his eyebrows furrowed and the smallest downturn to his lips. There wasn’t much time until the passenger’s lips spread to grin back, but opposed to the kind one Seokjin at least hoped he was wearing, it was a very quiet one. “It’s, ‘Super Tuna.’”
It’d reached too many people— Seokjin didn’t have it rated as PG for Parental Guidance, but for Please iGnore. The CGI was awful and the characterization was the most unique thing he could’ve come up with, with his face in the foot of a slump. But since it’d reached anyone at all, he couldn’t help it when he asked, “Do you think it’s good? I haven’t seen it myself yet, you see.”
“Mm. Adventure films aren’t often on my watchlist, but I can admire the soundtrack.”
“Oh.” Seokjin didn’t work on the soundtrack. He was a screenwriter, not a film composer. “What about the storyline? How is it?”
“Eh. It’s okay.”
Seokjin already knew this, he even thought worse of it, but his polite smile still faltered. What nerve this guy had. “Okay, okay. Hey, what’s your name?”
“Mine?” The guy pointed at himself.
“Who else?”
“Min Yoongi,” the passenger said, and smiled a little bigger.
Seokjin knocked his head back into the tough headrest with a hum, and put his hand forward. He didn’t know what he was going for, aside from a handshake of course, but he wanted an effect like one of Gordon Ramsay’s pranks. Shocked sorrys and whatnot. “I’m Kim Seokjin.”
It was with the straightest face Seokjin had ever seen when Yoongi took his hand and gave it a firm shake, but he could swear he was staring at his forehead. He wasn’t looking Seokjin in the eye, that was for sure, but it was giving him the feeling that there was something on his face.
“I know.” Yoongi said, and the smile was back, almost cheshire though not nearly wide enough like he was trying to keep it in. Seokjin’s, however, fell this time.
“From attendance?”
“From the movie credits.”
Seokjin finally smacked his forehead, partially to protect it from Yoongi’s eyes. Yoongi actually had the balls to laugh, seemingly at his misery. Coming to think of it, Seokjin was getting less and less afraid of skydiving by the second.
“It’s okay, I understand,” Yoongi nodded like doing so was supposed to coax Seokjin’s hand down from his forehead, and it did, “you wanted someone’s honest opinion, right?”
“Whew,” Seokjin sighed, no weight lifted off his shoulders. He was going to think about this for a while, it was going to invade his dreams about fish and lottery numbers. “Yes, it feels more believable actually hearing it out loud, you know?”
The airplane trembled again, like it was cold from the inside air conditioning and the temperature outside. Knotted fingers, nails trimmed seemingly as short as they could go, splayed over Yoongi’s laptop keyboard to keep it steady. Seokjin couldn’t look outside his window to where the sun shone right at their seats, right at Yoongi’s eyes while Seokjin had his back towards the window.
“Yeah, I get it,” Yoongi said. He was squinting now. Seokjin shifted the discreetest bit forward in his seat; like this, the shadow of his head could block the sun from hitting Yoongi’s face too brightly. “Well, you got my opinion, Mr. Kim. How about it?”
“Don’t call me mister, how old are you? Just call me Seokjin. Seokjin-hyung. Anything but mister.” Seokjin grimaced. He was so close to moving on from Yoongi’s apparently honest review, but— “Hey! You seriously think it’s just okay ?”
“Shh, aren’t there articles about how you also think it’s just okay ?” Yoongi scratched his head. “Don’t start yelling at me, you said it first.”
“I did my best on that work, I want it to have ten out of ten on IMDb,” Seokjin said, maybe a bit foolishly. Yoongi was right, though. Seokjin even said it was worse than okay. “Do you think it’s easy?”
“Your best isn’t the world’s best, and I said I don’t watch a lot of adventure.” Yoongi shrugged, completely unguilty. “No, I don’t. I’m sure it’s very hard.”
Seokjin frowned. He already knew it wasn’t— he wasn’t going to let it get to him already. They weren’t even three hours into their vacation. Regretting stuff wasn’t even something he did a lot, and he wasn’t about to start. “Let’s play a game.”
“What? What’s this about now?”
“I do it too much when I’m traveling on my own,” Seokjin rubbed his hands together, “make up stories about strangers, what else? MapleStory?”
It was great for inspiration, or just ending boredom. Yoongi raised a brow, Seokjin continued, “Think, where’s this person going? What are they leaving? Why?”
“Oh,” Yoongi said. Seokjin thought he’d finally tired the guy out, but then he pointed vaguely with his lips and eyebrows towards the aisle, “I think the one with the suitcase is on vacation, going to Rome.”
“No, Yoongi, it’s supposed to be fictional, like— they’ve got magical animals in that suitcase, or they’re transporting weapons. Earlier, I saw this guy lugging instruments around and made him out to be a four-armed guy with a one-man show,” Seokjin said wistfully, then his smile dropped, “Everyone on this plane is already going to Rome with a suitcase. Try again.”