Archive of Our Own

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Advisory: due to inclement weather conditions, all outbound flights from Incheon International Airport are currently delayed. Please see your airline staff for further details.

    “I’m going to be fine. I promise. No — mom, I’m going to be okay. I don’t need to go back home; I’m sure I can handle being at the airport for more than a few hours. I’ll figure out how to keep myself busy…somehow. Yeah, I know. I’ll call you when I’m about to board again, okay? Okay. Alright. I love you too. Bye.”

    The call ends and Jisung momentarily lingers on the homescreen of his phone, staring placidly at the picture of his fluffy white dog plastered right on the front.

    I told you this would happen, Jisung.

    I know, I know, you told me like four times but I already booked the round trip and I need to be back at work by the 3rd, anyway.

    Just stay with us one more day and wait out the snowstorm. I’ll even pay for the next flight out of Incheon.   

    Ma, it’s fiiiine. I’m going to be okay. I’m a big boy now, remember?

    Aish…you’ll always be my big boy, don’t you forget that.

    And perhaps Jisung should have taken the free tip anyway, now that he’s staring right up at the monitor right in front of his gate that now says delayed in big, bold letters. Amidst the horde of upset, concerned, and downright pissed off passengers that crowded the counter at the gate, Jisung was able to at least make out the flustered attendant saying that the delay is expected to be at least fifteen hours. And in fifteen hours, he should already be back home, maybe curling up under his blanket to sleep off the jet lag before work the next day.

    “...Well,” he sighs, tearing his eyes away from the monitor to stare right at the raging blizzard outside. “Mother does know best, I suppose.”

    He already arrived at the airport a little bit later than he would have preferred, both as a product of his own terrible time-tabling as well as his doting mother’s insistence on staying a little bit longer for brunch, and as expected, all the seats at his gate were already filled. The pit of his stomach fills with existential dread at the thought of not having an immediately accessible seat next to a power outlet, and the idea of relying on his dinky, old portable charger (with a record maximum of an hour and a half of charging power!) to keep his peripherals up makes Jisung sick.

    With a click of his tongue and the slight skid of his sneakers on the linoleum floors, Jisung turns and heads off in a random direction, in hopes of finding a better place to hunker down for the better part of fifteen hours.

    “Man…I’m not even hungry,” he whines to himself, wondering if sitting down at any of the airport’s pricey eateries is worth shaving off an hour from his extended wait time. Maybe he could sit at one of the airport’s few bars, have a cocktail…or three. At twelve in the afternoon. The thought is mildly tempting, especially when Jisung walks right past a menu board emblazoned with a chalk drawing of a martini glass.

    Now that he’s thinking of food, Jisung realizes that he’ll eventually need to grab a bite to eat in the next fifteen hours. Three AM boarding time, huh… I’ll need to see what I can get for dinner, maybe even a snack. He momentarily scans the expanse of the terminal, seeing it stretch for what seems like miles in either direction as everything and everyone is starting to slow down to a snail’s pace, if only because the snowstorm has shuttered all flights for the foreseeable future. A place to stay, what to eat, and most importantly, keeping track of all his stuff for the next couple of hours. He feels like he’s back in university, holed up in the library during dead hours and desperately trying to find someone that was willing to watch his stuff while he ran to the convenience store for some snacks and a few more Red Bulls.

    Jisung needed to find a spot to call his own right away, lest he spend the next fifteen hours sitting on the ground and trying to ration his phone’s pitiful battery life.

    He swallows the lump in his throat and grips the handle on his luggage case a little tighter. “Okay, Han Jisung…you can do this. Spread your eyes.” He pulls his jacket tighter around himself and scans the crowds at the neighboring gates, trying to see if any of the seats with the power sockets were available for his picking.

    Open seat next to family of five, one baby and two munchkins, probably around eight or nine — nah. Don’t want the kids asking me what I’m doing on my phone and I definitely don’t want to be around that baby when it starts crying.

    Elderly woman, lots of luggage, has her knitting needles out and is currently scrolling through her phone with both hands. Err…don’t really wanna make conversation, and she kinda reminds me of my grandma. I bet she’ll even tell me I probably look like one of her grandkids.

    Third candidate…uppity lookin’ dude in a turtleneck with an iPad in his lap. Kinda expensive looking. Lookin’ extra pretentious with his beret on. He’s got airpods in his ears and he’s making all sorts of weird faces at his iPad; maybe he’s some business hotshot trying to get his Zoom meeting to work. The type of guy who probably talks on the phone too loud.

    Another desperate sigh comes out of Jisung, and he flattens his palms awkwardly on his pants as the gawky feeling of standing right in the middle of a thoroughfare like a stunned deer begins to settle in his stomach. Around him, everyone else continues moving along, walking past and filling space like water in a jar filled with sand. Jisung takes a deep breath and plays a short game of eenie meenie, before briskly crossing over to the waiting area to take his seat for the foreseeable future.

    The seat sinks in that comfortable, well-worn way when Jisung plops right into it, parking his luggage case right by his side and making sure to keep it out of anyone else’s personal bubble. Not that anyone’s bubble was even that big, considering the crowding that was now taking place with almost every flight at this airport seemingly being put on hold. It’s only then that a myriad amount of second guessing sneaks up on him. Maybe I should have gone to the store to buy snacks and a bottle of water first. If I go later, should I bring my stuff with me? But then I’ll lose my seat and I’ll have to find somewhere else to sit. Perhaps I can ask someone to watch my stuff…but what if they refuse? Or maybe they’ll steal my shit?

    Such is the odd and very specific ecosystem of an international airport, and part of why he’s never liked traveling alone in the first place. The feeling of independence and freedom shallowly masks the sensation of being by oneself and being lonely — at least, to Jisung. Maybe he should have invited Jeongin to fly back home with him, especially since he said he was spending Christmas in the Bay instead of going back down to Irvine. He takes another glance at his immediate surroundings. The cacophony of people expressing their disappointment over the airport shutting down during the snowstorm fades away, and everyone settles back into their habits straight away. Bundled up by the corner amongst each other with a deck of cards, curled up in a seat with a thick, paperbound novel, or packing up their things and moving further down the terminal. The question pops up in his head faster than he can formulate it.

    What am I supposed to do for the new few hours?

    Jisung has a smartphone, some cheap fifteen dollar earbuds he bought from Walmart about a month ago (and he expects them to break within the next week), and his rickety, old laptop that has a battery life so worn down and terrible that it only lasts twenty minutes without being plugged into a socket. Granted, he didn’t think he’d be sitting down for longer than thirty minutes before boarding, and these international flights are more a testament to his self-professed superb sleeping skills. If only he knew that there’d be a point throughout his little holiday getaway for him to have this much downtime, then maybe he’d have brought his Switch as well. (Animal Crossing has been his poison of choice as of late; the idea of coming back home to an island half-ridden with weeds makes his mood dip just a little bit.)

    Getting up and buying a book from one of the convenience stores is something he might have done…had he not already decided to sit down and lay his temporary claim on his space. Even then, Jisung thinks he’d rather watch paint dry than assume that an airport convenience store would have anything literature-minded he’d actually be interested in. It’s with a final sigh of defeat that he slumps in his chair and reaches down for his laptop bag; maybe Netflix will have something for him to binge for the next few hours.

    “Don’t bother. The wi-fi bandwidth is shit right now and it seems the snowstorm is cutting off any and all cell service.”

    Jisung freezes, laptop already swung open and his cursor stuck on the network settings in the corner, and turns to his left, the only place where the unwarranted comment could have come from seeing as he’s picked the end seat of the airport bench he’s currently sitting in. 

    Wow. He’s…much prettier this close up. And that much is true, as Jisung sits there awestruck by a set of long and fluttery lashes, beady eyes, and a sharp, angular nose. The businessman blinks back at him, unperturbed, until Jisung realizes he’s been staring for much longer than he anticipated.

    “Is there something on my face?”

    “O-Oh. No, no, not at all. Sorry, I just…” The sentence dies halfway out of Jisung’s lips, but heeding the stranger’s words, he turns to his own laptop screen just to confirm that yes, the airport wi-fi is actively inactive — evidenced by the commonly frustrating error message in his network settings: can’t connect to this network. “Well…shit,” Jisung laughs half-heartedly in an attempt to suggest some camaraderie. The stranger’s iPad catches his attention; it is indeed a Zoom call, but a loss of connection error is centered right on the screen. “Thanks for the heads up. I guess.”

    “Don’t sweat it. Just spreading the good word. I guess.”

    The stranger’s voice is laced with a bit of sarcasm that doesn’t go unnoticed, making Jisung smile just a tad bit.

    “I’m guessing you’re held up by the storm too?”

    Jisung almost shrinks back into his hoodie when the stranger ignores his question at first, opting to instead force-quit the video call app and tuck away his iPad, but half a second before Jisung takes his silence in defeat, the stranger finally answers.

    “Sadly, yeah. About a fifteen hour delay, I’ve heard.” He clicks his tongue and relaxes in his seat, smoothing his hands over the dark brown fabric of his turtleneck. “I literally have work tomorrow and I guess I’m missing a meeting right now as well. Just fine and dandy.”

    “Oh, where are you headed? …If you don’t mind me asking.”

    “Los Angeles,” the stranger sighs, clapping his hands together in some sort of mock enthusiasm. “Just…wanted to relax my last few days before heading back into work but no one in my department knows how to do anything without me.”

    An awkward chuckle floats right out of Jisung, lamenting his own inability to land a job better than food service, but also reveling in some of the madness that some of his own coworker’s workplace screw-ups have caused.

    “And you? Boarding the same flight, too?”

    “Not at all, actually. I’m just sitting here because everyone at my gate has camped out all the seats with available sockets, heh.”

    “Where are you headed then?”

    “San Francisco, actually. Thankfully I don’t have work tomorrow, but I was hoping to spend the extra day of vacation to sleep the jet lag away. Guess that’s not happening anymore.”

    “Ouch,” the stranger chuckles. “My condolences. I guess we’re both suffering tomorrow then.”

    “Cheers to that,” Jisung deadpans, pursing his lips and raising an invisible champagne glass in mock toast. Jisung shifts again in his seat and pulls his jacket tighter around him, as if staving off an invisible chill. “...Man, this sucks. What exactly do they expect us to do here for over twelve hours? It’s not like we can just go back home because the snowstorm is holding us all hostage.”

    “Why am I getting the feeling you’re terribly ill-prepared for passing long periods of time?”

    “Am I really that obvious?”

    “Just an educated guess,” the stranger replies with a smirk, and Jisung resists the urge to dig his knuckles into the other man’s arm.

    “Well…I was going to fly back yesterday but my parents insisted on me staying another day. I left the house really late today and I was expecting to be running for my gate like a madman, but then this shit happens.” Jisung turns over his shoulder and waves a frantic hand at the snow flying outside the large glass windows. “And about a minute or two ago, you told me that the airport wi-fi’s gone to shit. So there goes pretty much all of my immediate plans.”

    “Then I don’t think you’re thinking that far out of the box.”

    Jisung raises an eyebrow at the offending stranger, but they only regard him with an unclockable poker face.

    “What? Do you expect me to play I Spy? Hide & Seek?”

    “Something of that sort, but not quite.” The stranger chuckles and yet Jisung can’t find it in him to end the conversation with the charming man. “Let’s play twenty questions.”

    “Twenty questions? Seriously?”

    “What’s wrong with twenty questions?”

    He clicks his tongue. “Nothing’s wrong. It’s just…it’s, like, just a little weird to want to play a children’s game with a random stranger,” Jisung murmurs, hiding beneath the collar of his hoodie.

    The stranger continues smirking and relaxes in his own seat. “I like to think I’m a good judge of character, and you look like someone that could talk my ear off. Correct?”

    Jisung raises his eyebrows at him, unsure if he’d just been complimented or insulted, but the smile tugging at the corners of his lips betrays him. “…Fine, I’ll bite. Only because the first person I’ve had an actual conversation with here at the airport seems like a normal guy.”

    "Normal, huh? And what if I’m a serial killer? A cultist? A furry?”

    “Don’t tell me that’s your first question.” Jisung’s eyes crinkle at the corners as the grin manifests on his cheeks, something that the other man eagerly mirrors.

    “And what if it is?”

    “Well…if you are any of those things, then maybe you’re doing your job too well. I’ve watched too many of those true crime documentaries on Netflix, y’know. I’ve got my eye on you!” The man laughs even louder when Jisung pretends to shoot him with finger guns, and only a second later does the embarrassment kick in, and so he quickly pulls his hand away to scratch the back of his neck, his cheeks now burning. “You know…I don’t think we’re even playing this game properly. Isn’t it supposed to be all yes or no questions?”

    “Yes…but,” and the stranger adjusts himself to face Jisung. “Yes or no is so boring.”

    “So you just want to ask me open-ended questions. That’s it.”

    “You’re free to answer as little or as much as you want.”

    Jisung stares for a moment before finally nodding. “Fine. But I get to ask you questions too.”

    “That’s fine by me. We have all the time in the world anyway.”

    The man goes silent once more, settling back in his undecipherable gaze that seems to see right through Jisung. The drone of the airport continues all around Jisung, sound going fuzzy the longer he holds the other man’s unflinching gaze.

    “Where do you work? If you don’t mind me asking.”

    The question festers in Jisung’s head for a moment, mostly because he figures that thoughtless coworkers must be a universal struggle, and yet he didn’t have the heart to tell this literal salaryman that he works in some shoddy little soup store. But when Jisung lifts his gaze and meets the man eye to eye, takes in the casual posture of his body language, and the tilt of his head showing nothing more than his interest…Jisung reconsiders.

    “I, um. Work at a ramen restaurant. Nothing too fancy.”

    “Ramen restaurant, huh? Is it one of the bigger franchises? I know they have a lot of the bougie ones in SoCal and they’re always hiring.”

    “Nah,” Jisung waves him off and shakes his head. “We’re kind of a smaller place. Used to be the restaurant was owned by this really old and sweet Japanese couple, but shortly after I started they sold the place to some other guy. The coworkers that usually give me trouble are my friends, but I know everything in the restaurant better than they do so they’re usually the ones that give me trouble.”

    The stranger’s lips curl up into a smirk when he chuckles, and the sight alone makes the top of Jisung’s ears tingle.

    “Sounds like fun. I kinda miss working entry-level jobs like that. Mostly because I don’t get to stress about deadlines and all the crazy stuff I have going on right now.”

    Jisung chuckles lowly and shakes his head, now shifting in his seat to face the stranger. “Really? I would ditch this job in a heartbeat if I had the chance. Everyday is just so…boring and repetitive. I feel like I’m stuck in a washing machine.”

    “Same thing I got going on at my workplace,” the stranger laughs. “Spreadsheets, numbers, deadlines, fiscal goals…it’s complex and boring.”

    “Sounds like a lot of math. Sounds like I’ll hate it.”

    The both of them laugh, the harmony of which is much more natural than Jisung expects.

    “I suppose it’s my turn again. Hmm…” Narrowing his eyes at the stranger, Jisung takes the present chance to further scrutinize them. Black suede beret. Brown corduroy sweater. An admittedly very nice pair of boots. The silver rings on his hands and the leather satchel right next to him — looks pretty real to me. “Since we’re here at the airport: have you ever bought any of those fancy, useless lifestyle tech items?”

    Jisung watches the stranger roll their eyes, offhandedly admiring the natural curl of their long lashes. “Oh, you mean like the tech store down the terminal over there that sells heated neck pillows?”

    “Wait. Really? That sounds hella nice.”

    “₩240,000.”

    “Okay no.”

    The stranger stifles a chuckle and shrugs. “I can’t say I have. Not even as a gift for someone or whatever. Though I can’t lie and say that it’s tempting to buy one of those electric neck massagers, if only to ease the ache I get most days after the shitstorm I have to deal with at work.”

    “You and me both,” Jisung chuckles.

    “Other than that…I usually enjoy hitting any of the airport bars. Takes the edge off of traveling and gets me not to think about work, y’know?”

    Jisung raises an eyebrow at him, but the other man counters him with a look of his own. “I see you’re one of those people.”

    “Getting absolutely fucked up sounds like a great way to pass the time.”

    Both of Jisung’s eyebrows lift now, and the stranger’s smirk quickly breaks into laughter.

    “…Is what I would say if I didn’t have an ounce of shame in my body. But a nice cocktail at the airport lounge is nice every now and then.”

    With a tight cross of his arms, Jisung levels the handsome stranger with a smirk tugging on his lips. “Wow, okay. What’s next, champagne glasses at 30,000 feet?”

    The stranger blinks at him unperturbed. “Sometimes. I fly first class.”

    Jisung pauses to let his jaw hang for a moment. “…Well, shit, now I really want whatever job you’re peddling. I’m sticking it out with the plebs in economy.”

    The handsome stranger’s face stretches into a smile, the corners of his eyes crinkling in a way that Jisung can only interpret as amusement.

    “...Y’know kid, I kinda like you. You’re funny. I realized I never got your name.”

    “Me?” and he nearly sputters on his words as the stranger stretches a demure hand in greeting. Jisung stares down at the few bands of silver adorning his short fingers, before finally slotting his own hand with the stranger’s. The way they fit cozily in each other’s grasp is not lost on the young man.

    “Next question: what’s your name?”

    “…Jisung. What’s your name?”

    “Call me Minho.”

    Jisung smiles tightly at him, both shy and brimming with unexpected excitement, and he grips the other man’s hand tighter in response. “...Hyung-ah. Nice to meet you.”

    “Yeesh, no need to be so formal. You make me sound like I’m senile or something.”

    “Didn’t you just call me a kid about a minute ago?”

    “Besides the point.” Minho then turns to look across the terminal, right at the row of restaurants adorning the opposite side. “Next question: would you like to go get some drinks with me? I’m kinda hungry and that bar right there is about to open up for happy hour.”

    “Me?” Jisung actually sputters now, even jabbing his thumb into his own chest. “We just met and you wanna go drinking now?”

    “What’s wrong with that? Everyone likes drinking.”

    “...Okay, you’re not exactly wrong.”

    The white noise surrounding him on all sides fades into the background, muffled like he’s slowly sinking into the ocean that is the stranger’s — Minho’s gaze. It feels so cheesy, Jisung almost wants to gag on reflex but his seatmate is making himself very open to conversation. Open in a way that doesn’t make Jisung want to shrink back in his shell, especially when he’s traveling by himself and just sitting by his lonesome in this giant airport. Jisung is but one out of the million that pass through this airport everyday…but if he has the chance to make a friend for just a little while and make the next few hours a little less grueling, then he’ll gladly take it.

    The corner of Minho’s lip quirks up. “I realize I’m being a little too forward. Sorry. You don’t have to — ”

    Jisung grips the brim of his hat and tilts it downward, trying to hide the timid smile on his cheeks. “I’ll go.”

    “ — say yes. Wait, yes?”

    He sighs and lets go of his hat, now shrugging at Minho with a goofy grin on his face. “Drinks, right? I guess I’m down to get smashed. Beats sitting around here for a few hours.”

    Minho’s thin smile blooms. He presents a languid fist in front of Jisung, who reciprocates by gently knocking his own knuckles against his.

    “I can only hope you’re not actually a serial killer trying to soften me up before hitting me with the cleaver.”

    “You’re not letting that go, are you?”

    “Just keeping my wits about me. Besides,” Jisung smugly remarks as he crosses his arms tight over his chest. “I’ve got at least twenty more questions to ask you.”

➢ ✈ ➣

    “Okay, call me old-fashioned or whatever,” and Jisung pauses only to take another few french fries into his mouth, “but they can keep bringing however many burger places to California. Shake Shack, White Castle, Smashburger, Five Guys — I don’t care. In N’ Out trumps all of them.”

    “Have you actually been to Shake Shack, though?”

    “Like once. It was good but I don’t think I could justify spending that fifteen dollars for a cheeseburger the size of my fist. And I have pretty small hands.”

    “Yeah, you do have small hands,” Minho laughs, reaching over to snatch a french fry right off of Jisung’s tray.

The bar is busy enough, perhaps just a few people shy of a full house now that travelers far and wide are sitting down to have their meals in the midst of the airport-wide shutdown. Luckily for the two of them, a booth off to the side was available just before the bar had begun to fill up. It’s a cozy enough affair, and Jisung admires the restaurant’s dedication to the very specific 1950’s jukebox theme they had going on.

    “Uncalled for, but I digress. For fifteen dollars I can just easily get five double-doubles at In N’ Out and they’ll be just as good and twice as big. That’s not getting into how much combos I can buy with fifteen dollars.”

    “Oh, okay, so now we’re getting into cost effectiveness? And here I thought you said you were awful at math.”

    “Not when it matters!”

    Minho chuckles and shakes his head, the slight dangle of his silver earrings and their glint in the warm overhead lamps catching Jisung’s eye. He surveys and narrows his brows at Jisung’s cocky expression, before taking a sip of his beer glass. “You gotta admit though; In N’ Out fries suck in comparison to Shake Shack’s. Too soggy.”

    “But you can get them well done!”

    “Which is just code for we’re going to refry them. And if you have to voluntarily ask for your fries to be crispy, then you’re doing something wrong.”

    “This conversation is going in circles,” groans Jisung, shortly before taking a swig of his own glass. “We’re both from California, we’re going to drive ourselves into the ground if the question is about which burger place is the best.”

    “Alright, alright. Next question then,” Minho amends as he reaches for his mug again. “Lightweight or heavyweight?”

    “Lightweight?” Jisung blinks before breaking out into a smile so wide that his gums are peeking out from underneath his lips. “I…I’m not like the lightest person ever. I like to think I can hold my own if we’re knocking back glasses for hours.”

    “What’s your record?”

    “Twelve. I can only make it to that point if I’ve had a lot of food but I know I’m done when the alcohol stops burning my throat, heh.”

    “Impressive,” the other man replies, smirking over the rim of his glass. Jisung scrutinizes him.

    “What? You think I’m lying?”

    “No, no. You’re just kind of a tiny guy, so I didn’t consider anything in the double digits.”

    “Seriously? Okay, then, how about you?” Jisung challenges, sitting up straight in his chair and pointing a french fry at him before popping it between his teeth. “What’s your record?”

    “Seventeen shots of hennessy. Though it was right after that seventeenth shot that I had to run into my friend’s backyard and vomit in his garden.” The corners of Minho’s eyes crinkle as he lets out a soft laugh. “I haven’t gotten that wasted in years though. Hardly have any time to. But if any of my coworkers wanna go drinking, it’s, like…what? Getting two cocktails at the bar on Friday nights?” He shrugs and moves to take one of Jisung’s fries again.

    “Can you stop that?” Jisung scolds, even as a smile is already hanging off his face as he watches Minho pop the fry into his mouth. “You had your own fries, sir.”

    “Is that your next question?”

    “I’m starting to think you’re the coworker that loves to annoy everyone.”

    “Guilty as charged, but…am I annoying you right now?” Don’t tell me that’s your next question. Bastard.

    Jisung’s eyebrows fly up into his bangs, and he’s quick to shake his head in disagreement. “N-No, no. Not at all,” he chuckles dryly. “You’re not annoying. Or at least…I have yet to find out if you’re annoying. Y’know. In, like, that way.”

    “Annoying…in that way. Uh huh.”

    “You’re making fun of me, aren’t you?”

    “Wonderful question.”

    “I swear to God — ” Minho breaks into laughter before flashing him a wink that sends blood rushing up to his already inflating cheeks. In response, Jisung can only suck in air and hold his tongue behind a sneer. “...Anyway. Next question.”

    “This is starting to sound like a job interview. Or a trivia game show. Either way, I have a bounty of approximate knowledge and too much time on my hands.” The other man wiggles his brows before cracking that unflappable, tight smile that Jisung is beginning to think might be his signature expression.

    “Lemme see…” Jisung pauses for a moment to stare past Minho, eyes focusing on the random selection of vintage-styled portraits hanging on the wall across the room. His gaze lands on a caricature of a cat and dog advertising motor oil. “...Got any pets?” he finally asks.

    Minho nods emphatically, face morphed in a way that wordlessly speaks funny you should ask. “I actually have three cats. They live with me back in my apartment in Long Beach.”

    “Long Beach?!”

    “What, what?” Minho cackles, rearing back in surprise as Jisung stares him down with bewildered eyes. “I thought we were talking about my cats?”

    “No, we are, but like: Long Beach? Dude, you must be making some serious bank to have a place in Long Beach. Isn’t it expensive?”

    “Well…yeah, it definitely is but working in the tech industry pays for itself, so…” Minho shrugs as if the concept is child’s play, drawing another scoff from Jisung.

    “And lemme guess: you live alone?”

    “I have my cats?”

    Jisung rolls his eyes. “Geez… Your salary can probably pay for my rent and I’m already struggling with two other guys I met in college. Thank God I at least like my roommates.”

    “Oh yeah, definitely,” Minho responds, feigning sympathy and understanding. “My kitties are absolute menaces. Dori’s grown up to be a brat, Doongie talks too much, and Soonie just sleeps all day until it’s time to eat. Nonetheless…they’re like the brothers I never asked for.” The fiendish grin on Minho’s face melts into something softer, and for a moment Jisung swears he sees a twinkle in the other man’s eyes.

    “...Can I see a picture of them?” Jisung finds himself timidly asking, like he’s requesting to view the queen’s crown jewels.

    Minho lets out a small sound of excitement as he unpockets his phone, quickly swiping past a few apps until he’s ready to share his screen. “...They’re almost never in the same place at the same time, so it’s kinda hard to get pictures of all of them together.”

    Jisung leans over the table to get a better look at the photos Minho is swiping through, spotting two orange tabbies and one in dark gray. For a brief instance, Jisung removes his eyes from the screen to look at Minho instead, and the fondness reflected in his eyes makes something stir in his chest.

    “Ahh…they’re so cute but just looking at them makes me wanna sneeze. I’m…actually allergic to cats.”

    “Well, that’s a damn shame. You’re missing out!”

    “I guess, if it’s worth crying and sneezing.”

    “Luckily for you, photos and videos won’t trigger your allergies. I have a lot of them just sitting in my phone if you wanna be enlightened.” Minho wiggles his eyebrows again.

    “And lucky for you…we’re both stuck here for the next half day or whatever. Let’s see it all.”

➢ ✈ ➣

    “Damn…so you really weren’t kidding about all that first class crap, were you?”

    “What, you thought I would lie to you?”

    At some point after their impromptu lunch…thing, in which the both of them briefly debated on who was fronting the bill before finally deciding on splitting it evenly (“I ought to charge you for every french fry you stole off my plate.” “If you’re gonna do that, then why not just have me pay for your meal?” “Shush, my dignity is at stake here.”), Minho raised the idea of taking advantage of his mileage points to get themselves access to one of the airport’s various lounges. GOLD lounge, to be specific; the name made Jisung do a double take.  

    Jisung was already keen on not calling it a date in his mind because, while his new acquaintance is quite the looker, he’s only known the man for a little over an hour…not to mention the both of them having flights bound for separate parts of the globe. But Jisung doesn’t mind having fun for a little bit, especially if it’ll make the wait go by a little faster. The patient gaze Minho gives him as they loiter outside the bar premises quickly makes Jisung reconsider.

    Of course, it was at Jisung’s behest after leaving the bar that they stopped at the nearest convenience store to stock up on snacks before braving the rest of the night until flights would be reinstated. As recompense for Minho’s astounding generosity, Jisung fronted the bill at the stop-and-shop instead, loading up on juice, chips, and candy. Minho had no qualms, though Jisung could feel his controlled gaze burning into the back of his head when he got rung up at the cashier.

    “Oh man…maybe I ought to spend a little bit more money on trips from now on,” Jisung muses as he plops down onto a couch, eyes still roaming through the central lobby of the lounge.

    Very few travelers dot the premises of the lounge, all of them single passengers that he can only assume are businessmen like Minho. Jisung’s fingers clutch tight on his backpack strap, trying to fend off the growing sensation of feeling like a fish out of water. The snowstorm still blowing outside seems almost like a backdrop when paired with the lounge’s cozy aesthetics, and the slightly cheesy jazz softly playing over the lounge speakers. The young man nearly jumps when he feels a tap on his shoulder, sufficiently holding back his noise of surprise when he realizes Minho’s taken the spot right beside him.

    “Sorry, did I startle you?” he asks, and the gentle timbre of Minho’s voice doesn’t go unnoticed.

    “I’m fine,” Jisung amends, scratching the back of his head. “I just feel like I stick out here, that’s all.”

    “There’s hardly anyone here, so I’m sure it doesn’t matter.”

    Jisung sighs as he shrugs off his jacket. “I guess. This must be typical fare for you, huh?”

    “Lounges are alright. I’m never at the airport long enough to justify waiting inside one of these things, and when I am, I usually just end up getting a hotel room. Today is a…special case, I guess.”

    “I’m not complaining,” Jisung laughs. “As long as no one bats an eye while I’m going to town on these gummy bears, I don’t mind. If only the wifi was working right now, though. I’d finally get some time to catch up on my shows.”

    Minho holds back a chuckle. “Oh? And what are you watching?”

    Jisung looks up from his bag of treats and is nearly caught off guard by Minho’s focused stare. A small smile blooms on Jisung’s lips.

    “That your next question?”

    Minho shrugs and mirrors the other boy’s languid expression. “Sure, why not.”

    “Well…I need to catch up on The Witcher, and I just started watching Euphoria because my coworkers are telling me to start it. And that’s not getting into the anime, geez.”

    “You’re really into tv shows, huh?”

    “I mean…it’s all I have. Between my senior coursework and my job, that’s all I can fit within the cracks. The best part is that I just sit back with some chips, maybe a beer, and relax, y’know?” Almost as if demonstrating, Jisung pulls his arms taut until he feels his elbow joints pop in satisfying fashion. “This is still nice though,” he finishes, continuing to stare at the people walking past just outside the giant lounge window.

    “Nice until you’re bored of people watching,” Minho snorts.

    “You just had to say it.”

    “Call it like I see it,” the other man laughs.

    Jisung ignores him and relaxes on the couch. “So I’m assuming you also flew over to meet your parents for the holidays?”

    “Correct. Although a lot of my free time was unfortunately occupied by catching up with some work stuff. My supervisor’s never gonna let me breathe.”

    “...Can you tell me more about that?”

    Minho blinks and tilts his head. “About…my work?”

    “Yeah.” Jisung nods earnestly and sits up, grabbing one of the throw pillows and hugging it to his chest. “I guess I just wanna hear how it is from someone who has their stuff together.”

    Minho snorts and shakes his head, before finally letting out a laugh. “Me? Having my shit together? You’re too kind.”

    “What? You obviously have a better job than I do and you definitely seem more put together. I wanna know how it all goes. So tell me.”

    Jisung watches the gears turn in Minho’s head, like peeking through the keyhole of the door masking the other man’s inner thoughts. Offhandedly, he can’t get over how handsome Minho is, especially when they’re sitting this close to each other. Jisung folds up that thought and sets it aside, a polaroid tucked away in the sun visor of his metaphorical mind vehicle.

    “It’s…almost 3:00 PM. We still got about eleven hours until the snowstorm subsides. Worst — or best, if you’d like to think of it that way — you’re still stuck here with me.”

    The other man cracks, uttering a scoff and fighting the smirk stretching across his lips.

    “Jisungie, you wretch! Oh, how you’ve seen right through my ruse!”

    “Has anyone told you how annoying you are?” Jisung cackles, digging his knuckles into the other man’s shoulder.

    “Let’s see…where do I even begin?”

➢ ✈ ➣

    At some point through the both of them regaling each other of their workplace shenanigans, it dawns on them they’re louder than they anticipate in a lobby occupied by few people other than themselves. Thus, Minho pulls more of his strings, and that’s how Jisung finds himself in a cozy little bedroom deep in the heart of the lounge, sprawled across the sheets sharing that aforementioned bag of gummy bears with him.

    “So what I’m getting is that,” and Jisung pauses to chew the rest of the gummy bears he’s just popped into his mouth. “You love what you do for a living, but you don’t enjoy that it’s taking over your life. Correct?”

    “Just about.”

    “So why not quit?”

    A dry laugh slips out of him. Jisung drags his eyes away from the spackled ceiling above and slowly peers over at the man lying down next to him.

    “...I’m afraid it’s not that simple, Sungie. It took nearly everything I had to land this job, and now that I have it, it’s…all that I can rely on.” Minho sucks in a deep breath and exhales, and Jisung sees the puff of hot vapor dissipate into the stale air. “I like to think that I’m pretty valuable in my department, and that looking for a job elsewhere with the portfolio I have might be lucrative. Social life be damned but…why let go of something good if you already have it, y’know? Or maybe I’m just complacent.”

    “But what’s the point of doing something you love and ending up hating it for the rest of your life?”

    The other man slowly turns to face him, now for perhaps the closest they’ve been in proximity all day.

    “I asked you what it was like to have your life all wrapped up in a neat little bow, and the longer you’ve been talking the more it sounds like you’re just putting bandaids over cracks in the walls,” Jisung mutters as he lets his eyes trail over the other man’s features. “I hate my own job too, but I’m so young and I wanna do more with my life other than bussing tables and serving noodles to ungrateful customers. You couldn’t be more than a few years older than me so I think you deserve to…to flip everything around and reconsider your life choices. Before it’s too late, I guess.”

    Jisung stares hard at Minho’s stone-like expression, gauging the tension written about his face and wondering if he’s dipped his hand a little too far into the pot.

    There you go, Jisung. You’ve pissed off the guy who’s been so nice to you all day. Should have just kept your mouth shut from the getgo and —

    “Keep spouting philosophical wisdom like that and I might just marry you.”

    Jisung’s mouth falls agape, he realizes he must look like a dead fish on a table but the words right out of Minho aren’t registering properly in his brain. The seconds of silence that follow hang like a sword on a string, but the laughter bubbling over from the other man right after makes the tension in Jisung’s chest fade away.

    “Honestly though…you might be right. I don’t know how it took some stranger at an airport to tell me to live my life but…thank you, Jisung.”

    “It’s really no problem, Minho-hyung. I just say whatever comes up in my mind, I guess. Perks of being simple-minded and impulsive.”

    Minho sneers and shuffles around, finally turning his whole body to face him. “Simple-minded and impulsive…my ex would have disliked you a lot.”

    Jisung blinks in surprise. “They would? I can’t say I’m very unlikable but if you say so…”

    “Yeah…I met him at my job and we bonded over a lot of the same things but we didn’t last very long because we were both too caught up with work. I think it ruined him faster than it did me so he left not too long ago and began working somewhere else. My other coworkers like to joke that we’ve become enemies since he started working for a rival company, but they’re just being stupid.”

    “Oh man…that’s a real shame though. For what it’s worth, I think you’re a real catch?”

    The way his cheeks balloon and warm up makes him want to hide, but there’s nowhere safe under Minho’s watchful gaze. The older man’s eyelids flutter, lashes fanning over those giant irises as his face morphs into a wordless oh? tell me more. Jisung swallows thickly.

    “Well. Just look at you. You’re smart and rich. You have pretty good taste in clothes and food. Aaaaaand you’re pretty damn handsome. Not as handsome as me, but you’re up there.”

    Minho’s poker face breaks as he chokes back a howl.

    “I’ll throw in this dealbreaker: I can cook, too.”

    “And the man knows how to cook! Everyone give him a round of applause!”

    “Now it’s my turn to tell you you’re obnoxious.”

    “Just another thing we have in common.”

    Jisung finds it miraculous that he’s had the pleasantry of being stuck at the airport with one of the most likable people he’s ever met. It can’t be sheer coincidence, he thinks, that every passing moment spent with Minho makes him want to stay here just a bit longer — despite the impending countdown of both of their departures. He feels something churning in his chest, as if some imaginary scientist is mixing chemicals within him and astutely observing the reactions.

➢ ✈ ➣

    “Favorite animal?”

    “Cats.”

    “Favorite ice cream flavor.”

    “Mint chocolate.”

    “Favorite color?”

    “Mint green.”

    “Favorite food?”

    “I like sushi a lot. But I also just like meat.”

    “Respectable.”

    With the sun down and the ice continuing to rage beyond the walls of the airport, Jisung feels more at home now than ever, draped over the sheets with his shoes off like he’s at a high school sleepover. The atmosphere in the room is weightless and still, as if existing in a separate dimension where time doesn’t exist. And he’ll continue to remain in this space, just for now.

    “Least favorite food?” Jisung asks as he idly makes shapes with his hands, and admires the myriad shadows they make on the spackled ceiling.

    “I don’t really have a trademark least favorite…but I don’t like carrots.” They share a giggle when Minho swipes at Jisung’s shadow dog with a pretend-cat paw. “The way you’ve been asking me all these questions, I feel like I’m taking a questionnaire for a dating website.”

    “Are you insinuating something, Minho?”

    “No, but if you choose to take it that way, I have no objections.” Jisung can practically hear the smirk in his voice. “What’s your favorite genre of movies?”

    “Me? I like to watch a lot of Japanese animated films. Studio Ghibli, Makoto Shinkai…I’ll have you know I only cried five times during Mugen Train.”

    “You seem oddly proud of that fact,” and Minho feigns injury when the younger boy swipes at him with the sleeve of his sweater.

    “And you seem like the type of guy who laughs during horror films.”

    “Ding ding ding, we got a match. And only because I enjoy picking apart all the inconsistencies and stuff.”

    “You’d be terrible to watch movies with, I just know it.”

    “Maybe we should go watch something together then. Prove that I’m wonderful company to be with.”

    Jisung stops to look at Minho, an incredulous grin already plastered across his face. Minho’s expression is confident and charming, and it bothers Jisung that he can’t figure out if the other man is joking or not…so he plays along.

    “Give me your number then, and we’ll make something happen…somehow.”

    “Hand me your phone.”

    Whilst trying to hide the tremor in his hands, Jisung pulls out his phone and unlocks it, and graciously presents the number pad over. Minho is swift with his fingers, thumbs flying over the number pad before he finally hands it back to Jisung. Just for kicks, he immediately tries calling it, and the subsequent buzz of Minho’s phone has the older man smirking at him.

    “After all we’ve been through, you still think I’m going to swindle you?”

    “Just a precaution. Not the first time I’ve been supplied with a dud number. Then again, that usually happens at the end of the night when I’m wasted and can’t walk or talk straight. Anywho,” and Jisung turns onto his side, propping himself up to put his attention on Minho. “I don’t know when we’ll ever see each other again, but I’ll play along anyway. Walk me through your idea of a nice date.”

    “How incredibly forward of you.”

    “I’m just matching your energy. Now give me the details.”

    Minho’s face contorts to mask the embarrassment blossoming over his features, and the sight alone is enough to coax a chuckle out of Jisung.

    “...It’ll be at my place. I pick you up and take you over. My cats greet us at the door — mostly for me, but they do love visitors. We take off our shoes and I make fun of you for wearing some mismatched socks, kinda like the ones you have on right now — ”

    “I was in a hurry!”

    “ — but they’re cute and that’s part of your charm. My apartment’s going to smell great because I have braised pork belly ready to be served, some mango ice cream in the fridge from the local Asian market, and a decent enough red wine I have laying around that’s easy on the senses. Stella Rosa?”

    “Nice choice.”

    “I take you on a short tour of my apartment — it’s not too big, not too small, and it’s probably the neatest place you’ve ever seen. We sit down on my couch and we pick something to watch on my TV. Netflix, Hulu, HBO, you name it, I’ve got it, we’ll probably laugh at it. Or cry. Either is fine by me.” The half-lidded look that Minho gives him once he finishes gives Jisung goosebumps.

    God really did me dirty. He really placed me in this forsaken airport for more than twelve hours with the funniest, prettiest, nicest dude I’ve ever met…and we’re not even boarding the same flight. Tell me PLEASE what I’m supposed to do in a situation like this.

    “At the end of the night, provided we haven’t drunk ourselves silly on the wine, I drive you back to your place. Maybe get a gold star on my report card for my services.”

    Jisung rolls his eyes. “You’re a real testament to romantics, Minho.”

    Minho shrugs, a coy look still lingering on his face. “I do try my best.”

    Jisung sighs softly and lets his smile drop for just a moment before rolling onto his back again. “...Hyung?”

    …You’re young, Jisung. And you won’t have a moment like this ever again. One in a million chance that you find a guy like this just lying around, and you should be damned to let something like this pass you by.

    “Hm?”

    Jisung turns his head again, using all his willpower not to turn away from Minho’s bright irises.

    Show some backbone. Follow your own advice.

    “Can I ask you something? About your idea of a nice date.”

    Minho blinks a few times before nodding. “What is it?”

    “...Do you kiss on the first date?”

    He can feel his heartbeat steadily increasing, and so he holds his breath as to not let Minho know. Mild surprise dawns on the other boy’s features, if the slight raise of his brow is anything to go by, but Jisung is relieved when Minho doesn’t back down.

    “Only if the date is that good,” replies Minho with unflinching confidence. The sneer on his face is cool and collected, but in the face of his unwavering charm, Jisung tries to find the courage to push the envelope just a bit further.

    “Well…it is seven thirty-five on a Sunday evening and I’m currently laying in bed with a stranger I only met about eight hours ago. And if it counts…this is probably one of the best first dates I’ve ever had.”

    If his heart wasn’t already pounding, then it’s absolutely banging on his ribcage now. The stream of consciousness that just poured from his mouth is finally processing in his brain, and there’s a small part of him that hopes Minho isn’t put off by his glibness. 

    A stuttering, breathy sigh spills out from Minho’s lips as he begins to wrest control of himself from a smiling attack.

    “And do I get a gold star on my report card for my efforts?”

    “Kiss me and find out.”

    For something that Jisung is both expecting to happen and expecting to not happen at all, the feeling of Minho cradling his chin and pressing their lips together still catches him unprepared. The only thing that trumps that feeling alone is just how fast he throws himself into that kiss, hands curled in Minho’s hair and all — and just how quickly Minho catches him in return.

    And when they pull apart it’s slow, like a slice of pizza with long strands of cheese still tethering it to the box. Jisung’s vision returns to him gradually, and the blurry picture of Minho’s flushed cheeks and plump, pink lips sends butterflies dive bombing into the pit of his stomach. He manages a timid smile that Minho swiftly mimics, and in the brief moment of silence that follows, Jisung hyperfocuses and commits as much of him to memory. The cute little mole on the left side of his nose. The way light reflects in his specked, dark brown irises. The firm hand pushed into the small of his back, juxtaposed with the gentle way he’s holding his chin.

    “...You really didn’t have to, y’know,” Jisung mutters, smile faltering and lips quivering. “I’ve only known you for less than a day but you really got me wishing we were stuck at this damn airport for much longer.”

    “Is this the part where I chase after you and board the same flight?”

    “Don’t you dare,” Jisung half-laughs, biting down on his bottom lip all the same. “I know this could be a one-time thing and that we’d be strangers again when we get on those planes and fly back home but — ”

    “You don’t want it to?”

    “Why let go of something good if you already have it, right?”

    Minho pauses, and it’s as if an old lightbulb begins flickering in his cranium. His look of concern melts back into elation, and Jisung is nearly caught off guard the second time he surges forward for a kiss.

    “Sungie…I’ll find you. And we’ll meet again. And then you’ll be able to pay me back for this wonderful first date.”

    “I’ll hold you to that,” Jisung whispers, eyes locked with Minho’s. “That second date is gonna be twice as good as this one. And you better show up for it, okay? Or else I’ll be really upset and I’ll have to tell all my friends what a shitty person you are.”

    “You wouldn’t.”

    “I really wouldn’t,” Jisung murmurs apologetically before leaning in for another chaste kiss. “But I think I might hold a grudge. And I really don’t wanna do that.”

    Minho lingers on his lips for just a second longer, before finally pulling away for a sigh. “...I didn’t make it this far in life without agreeing to a few hard bargains. But yours is one that I’m actually willing to accept.” A soft chuckle leaves him as he reaches down to link his fingers with Jisung’s. “So…let’s meet again, Jisung.”

    “Gladly.”

➢ ✈ ➣

    His fingers are cramping and he starts to feel the belligerent heaviness of his eyelids after a busy shift at work, but Jisung ignores it, continuing to wipe down his table until the polished wood grain underneath is spotless. He pauses in the middle of wiping just to crane his arm up and swipe at the sweat beading at his hairline, briefly lamenting how gross it feels to reek of soup broth and sweat after eight hours of work.

    “...I’m guessing we’re not going drinking after tonight, huh?”

    A dry chuckle leaves his lips as he looks up at Hyunjin. The taller boy is slumped against the side of the booth seats, a towel slung over his shoulder.

    “Yeah, no, I’m so tired after tonight. I was expecting it to be this busy but I’m hella pooped. I just wanna go home and pass out.”

    “Honestly, same,” Hyunjin laughs, before craning his neck out and surveying the otherwise deserted restaurant. “I still have to wait for my corner table to finish eating before I can finish wiping everything.” He momentarily grimaces, and Jisung follows his gaze across the room, centering right on the aforementioned table. It’s a couple, sitting shoulder to shoulder on the same side of the table and idly picking away at the remnants of the ramen. The sight makes Jisung’s stomach churn, not just because he absolutely detests it when pairs sit side by side instead of across from each other, but also because…there’s a part of him that wishes that he had the opportunity to be that silly with Minho one more time.

    “Yeah, I hate it too.”

    “Right? Anyway, I’m going to go look for something to do in the meantime. Maybe finish wiping bowls in the back before Brian yells at me.”

    Jisung chuckles and waves him off with his towel. “Don’t let me stop you now.” He keeps the smile tight on his cheeks until Hyunjin disappears into the kitchen, at which point he finally relaxes and takes a deep breath instead.

    I would be lying if I said I didn’t miss you.

    Just a little over a month had passed since he had gotten stuck at the airport during the holidays, but what should have been a delirious and uneventful passage of time ended up being one of the best things that’s happened to him in recent times.

    They left the lounge shortly before midnight that night, striding out of the premises cold hand in cold hand. Jisung would have liked to stroll around for longer and revel in the comfortable silence he’d built with Minho, but that wasn’t possible with the amount of luggage both of them were carrying. The remaining few hours with the stranger were a blur, only remembering that he woke up about an hour before boarding after falling asleep on his shoulder. Jisung was boarding first, after all, with Minho boarding his flight a mere thirty minutes afterward.

    Jisung tried his best to hold it altogether, embracing Minho at the gate and keeping his eye on him until he finally disappeared from view, just as he entered the boarding ramp onto his plane. Once the aircraft had achieved liftoff, only then did Jisung turn his head to face the window and bury his stinging eyes into the sleeves of his sweater. 

    I realize I am kinda lonely and maybe I’m putting too much stock into something that only happened in less than a day. But I just feel like you’d be disappointed if you found out I wasn’t putting faith in you. In us.

    I found you on Facebook the other day. You gave me your phone number but I was kinda scared of texting you. Maybe you wouldn’t even remember who I was if I tried to text you. I had meant to send you a message on Facebook, but it seems the last time you’d updated your page was six months ago. I understand, though.

    Jisung sinks into the booth seat and hangs his head, perhaps imagining that the stranger is sitting across from him right there. He’d smile in that very specific way, the right corner of his mouth tilted up and eyes narrowed as if they’d just been downing shots for an hour. His ears would be red, and Jisung’s neck would get warm. Another crass chuckle slinks out of him.

    Ideally, I’d want us to go somewhere else if we’re going out for dinner again. Preferably not. Where I go to work. Where would we even go? There’s nowhere nice around here.

    Ah. Who am I kidding? Who knows when I’ll see you again. Or if it’ll ever happen.

    He purses his lips and balls up the towel in his hands.

    I feel so goddamned cheesy thinking about…this so much, but. Wherever you are…I hope you still think about me.

    The ring of the storefront’s entry bell stirs him out of his reverie, and a modicum of bitterness starts simmering in the pit of his stomach. It’s already twenty minutes past closing and he still has a two more tables finishing up and —

    He shoots out of his seat and marches up to the front of the restaurant, a vexed sigh already coming out of his mouth. Right up at the front desk, he already sees the look of apprehension on Jeongin’s face (seeing as he’s not one to handle front desk matters just yet). He gestures at the front door discreetly and it’s there that Jisung sees the single customer waiting at the entrance, back turned towards him and currently preoccupied with something else. Jisung scoffs lightly and waves away his younger coworker before addressing the stranger.

    “Sorry, sir, we’re already closed. We’re not taking any more customers for the…night…”

    His voice falters and fades as the stranger turns to face him, and for a moment it’s like all feeling has disappeared from his fingertips and toes. The stranger’s resultant laugh sends butterflies right into the pit of Jisung’s stomach.

    “Nice to see you again, Jisung.”

    Jisung swallows thickly and blinks a few times, letting the gravity of the situation slowly seep into his being.

    “...M-Minho. You. You actually.” He blinks maybe a dozen times before shaking himself out of it. “Oh my God, hi. Hello. Wow.”

    Minho continues to chuckle and gives the expanse of the restaurant a quick glance over as he slips his hands into the pockets of his coat. “Sorry. I didn’t realize you’d already be closing up. Do you want me to wait outside or — ”

    “No! N-No, it’s fine. It’s okay.” 

    The realization hits harder than being pelted in lego bricks, that Minho is standing here in the flesh, appearing to be a man of significance with his pleated slacks and tweed coat. On the other hand, Jisung’s been in his uniform for eight hours now, the cheap black fabric of his t-shirt just barely doing anything to mask the soup stains he normally accrues on a daily basis. Not to make little of the fact that he feels greasy all over and he probably smells like soy sauce. They really could have met again under much more favorable circumstances.

    “Are you sure? I don’t want to impose or make you stay here any longer than you need to — ”

    “Yah!” Jisung yells, crossing the short distance between them to clamp his hands on the back of Minho’s neck. “It’s fine. Really. I…I don’t wanna waste any more time now that you’re here.” His voice trails off once again, and the present warmth of his cheeks only gets warmer when Minho reaches up to clasp their fingers together.

    “If you say so,” Minho murmurs as he runs his thumb over the back of Jisung’s hand. “That being said…I wouldn’t say no to a bowl of ramen right now, no matter how much you ragged on them when you first told me. I’m starving after the drive up here.”

    Jisung laughs and swings their hands from side to side. “I got just the thing. Why don’t you, uh, take one of the booths over there and wait for me?”

    “Any of these?” Minho asks, pointing at the row of empty booths behind him.

    “Yeah. Just pick one and get comfortable. I’ll be right back.”

    That familiar smirk appears on Minho’s face and Jisung can’t resist the grin that begins stretching on his own face. “You got it.”

    He lets Minho’s fingers slowly slink out of his hand before finally turning and heading back to the kitchen with a spring in his step. He makes no effort to control the growing grin on his blooming cheeks, only hoping that he can sufficiently hide his excitement from Minho for now.

    “Did you tell the guy to leave?” Jeongin asks, hopping off the kitchen counter and setting aside his small bowl of gyoza.

    “What guy?” Hyunjin casually queries from the other side of the room, where he’s perched in front of a cart with a precarious stack of ceramic soup bowls. He lets out a small noise of protest when Jisung marches over and swipes one of the bowls, before proceeding to the remaining noodles still sitting about. “...Okay, but you’re washing and wiping that bowl.”

    “It’s not for me,” Jisung answers with a hint of laughter in his voice. “I…have a very important customer sitting at one of my tables right now.”

    Hyunjin barks out a laugh. “We’re already closed though.”

    “Oh, is it the guy at the front?” asks Jeongin again, eyes sparkling with curiosity.

    “There’s a guy?”

    “Don’t worry about it,” Jisung amends, in the midst of ladling broth into the bowl and sorting through the garnishes and sauces.

    “No, but Innie just said there’s a guy — ”

    “I said don’t worry about it!” Jisung yells, shortly before placing the bowl on a tray and promptly carting it out of the kitchen, ignoring his friends’ calls behind him.

    His chest pounds like a drum when he rounds the corner, already seeing the handsome stranger smiling back at him from across the room. Keep it together, Jisung, he thinks to himself, especially as he’s speed walking with a tray of noodles in his hands. Minho continues smiling up at him even when he’s already approached, and Jisung is too stunned by the current situation to bother saying something witty in response.

    “Hi. Again. Here’s a bowl of my specialty ramen,” Jisung modestly greets, placing the tray of noodles down right in front of Minho. Something swells in him when the other man’s eyes quite literally twinkle at the sight of the soup. “Well. It’s not actually my recipe, it belonged to the previous owners and I kinda just…fiddled around with it so this is just how I make it for myself. I hope you enjoy it.”

    “I’m sure I will. Though maybe that’s just my stomach talking,” Minho says, shortly before taking a sip of the soup, and he has to resist bursting into laughter when Jisung yells an expletive.

➢ ✈ ➣

    The brief instance of silence occurs shortly after Minho finishes eating. He must be sated, Jisung thinks, judging from the way he’s slurped up every ounce of the ramen bowl. Or maybe he must be doing it out of courtesy. Whatever it is, Jisung is keen to find out, and yet the way the other man stares at him with focus and his hands neatly folded in front of him clues Jisung into breaking his silence first.

    “...You don’t know how happy I am to see you again,” Jisung murmurs whilst fiddling with his fingers.

    “And here I thought you’d be upset with me for taking this long to see you again,” Minho admits. “I’m sorry. I've been dealing with a lot at work lately, so I just haven’t had time to drop a hello or how’s it going. I think that’s cheesy, anyhow.”

    Jisung shakes his head and pushes a smile up to the surface. “It’s fine. To tell you the truth…I was waiting for a response. A call, a message, anything. But only because I didn’t have the courage to do it first. Got too into my head about being rejected or forgotten.”

    “Sungie, I wouldn’t — ”

    “I know! I know. It’s just…it’s me. I was scared of that reality. That we could’ve just been a flash in the pan and that I’m being so dramatic and cheesy but. You’re here. Goddammit, you’re actually here.” Jisung sighs in exasperation, then runs a hand through his already messy hair. “I look like shit, I smell like beef seasoning, and I still need to take a shower. Meanwhile, you’re here looking like this and eating whatever slop I just made you — ”

    “Hey now, don’t sell yourself short; it was good! It really was.”

    “But that’s not the point,” Jisung amends, an embarrassed grin already stretched across his face. “I told you I’d make it up to you on our second date, and this…this is so humiliating.”

    “And doing jackshit in an airport for more than twelve hours isn’t?”

    They both burst into synchronous laughter after this, and in the back of Jisung’s mind he’s glad that he was left with the keys to the premises for the night.

    “Still…I was hoping our second date would be more romantic than this. But I suppose unorthodox methods are part of our lexicon now.”

    “It’s more interesting this way, isn’t it?” and Minho slyly reaches across the table, his palm up for Jisung to take. He does.

    “I really didn’t want to lose faith in you. In us. You really had me at the first go, y’know? If I’d never seen you again, I really would have hated you forever.”

    “Then I suppose it’s a good time for me to tell you that I’m moving up here.”

    Jisung freezes and stares Minho down for a few seconds, brows furrowed tightly. “You’re lying.”

    Minho shrugs and rolls his eyes. “It’s why I’ve been busy with work recently. I had to do a lot of parlaying with management to get them to assign me to the new department they’re setting up here. Expanding, y’know?”

    “...My God, you’re actually not shitting me.”

    “And if you’re still fussy about semantics, then you can take me on an actual second date. Or a third date. Whichever works for you.” Minho tilts his head at him in that frustratingly adorable way Jisung’s noticed during their short time together, and he has to actively resist the urge to lean over the table and kiss him silly.

    “Fine. Second date, third date, I don’t care. The only thing that matters is you, me, and all the places I could show you around here. Admittedly, not a lot of places because this city is a dump, but it’s the thought that counts, no?”

    “That’s the Jisung I’ve been waiting for.”

    It’s then that he loses his restraint, finally standing up from the bench and leaning over to crush their mouths together, laughing over how messy of a kiss it is.

    “...I have one last question,” Jisung breathes when they pull away, eyes darting all over Minho’s face and rewriting every inch into his memory.

    “What is it?”

    “...Wanna come over tonight? My place isn’t…it’s not the cleanest, and I don’t have cats or wine or a nice couch but…it’s too soon to let you go again.”

    Minho’s growing smile says it all. “I can grab a hotel in the morning. Lead the way.”