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The airport was alive with the low hum of voices, flight announcements echoing through the terminal, and the sharp hiss of the coffee machine behind the counter. Sunoo juggled his boarding pass and his cup of caramel latte as he turned away, distractedly scrolling through his phone with one hand.
He didn’t notice the tall figure until it was too late.
Crash. The warm liquid spilled forward, splattering across the chest of the stranger’s sweater.
“Oh my god—!” Sunoo froze, eyes wide as he took in the damage. The stranger stepped back slightly, blinking down at his now-stained shirt. He was striking—tall, sharp features, pale skin almost glowing under the harsh airport lights, and eyes that flicked up to meet Sunoo’s with quiet surprise.
“I—I'm so, so sorry!” Sunoo scrambled for napkins, his hands trembling as he tried to dab at the spill, then pulled back quickly, flustered. “I wasn’t looking—are you okay? Did it burn? Oh no, your shirt—”
The stranger let out a soft sigh, brushing a hand through his hair before offering the faintest smile. “It’s… fine. Really.” His voice was calm, almost soothing, though there was a little edge of amusement in it.
Sunoo wanted to sink into the tiled floor, but something about the stranger’s quiet presence made it hard to look away.
Sunoo’s heart dropped as the coffee spread across the stranger’s chest in messy streaks of brown. His first instinct was to babble out apologies, but before he could even reach for napkins, the man had already crouched slightly, pulling a small pack of tissues from his sleek black backpack.
Not a word. Not even a glance. He simply started blotting at the stain with movements that were brisk, efficient, almost mechanical.
Sunoo froze, guilt pooling in his chest. Most people would’ve scolded him, or at least muttered something under their breath, but this silence was worse. It felt like judgment hanging in the air.
“I—um—wait!” Sunoo stammered, setting his own bag down and unzipping it quickly. His fingers fumbled through layers of snacks and travel pouches until he pulled out a folded shirt. It wasn’t anything special, just a soft oversized tee he always carried for long flights. He held it out like a peace offering, his eyes earnest. “Here, please… take this. You can’t sit around in wet clothes, it’ll be uncomfortable. And it’s my fault, so… please.”
That finally made the stranger pause. Slowly, he lifted his gaze from the mess on his shirt to Sunoo. His eyes were sharp, dark, and unreadable. For a moment, Sunoo thought he’d refuse—politely, coldly, the kind of dismissal that would leave Sunoo embarrassed for even offering.
Instead, the man’s lips parted, and his voice came low, clipped. “You carry extra shirts in your bag?”
Sunoo blinked at the question, his grip tightening nervously on the shirt. “Y-Yeah. It’s… practical. You never know when you’ll need one.” He laughed softly, almost to fill the silence. “Like now, for example. See? Totally useful.”
The man arched a brow, unimpressed. He reached out at last, long fingers brushing against Sunoo’s as he took the shirt. His touch was cool, deliberate, nothing like Sunoo’s nervous warmth.
“You’re too prepared,” he muttered, standing a little straighter. His tone wasn’t grateful—if anything, it bordered on dismissive.
Sunoo only smiled, refusing to be shaken. “Maybe. But I’d rather be prepared than have you sit here freezing in your… um, coffee art.” He gestured at the stain with a weak grin, trying to lighten the air.
For the first time, the man’s lips twitched, though the expression was fleeting. He looked away quickly, as if unwilling to let Sunoo see it. “You talk too much.”
Sunoo tilted his head, not offended in the slightest. “Maybe you don’t talk enough.”
That made the man glance back at him, sharp eyes narrowing just slightly—but Sunoo caught the spark of something there. Amusement, curiosity, maybe both.
The silence stretched, heavy but not as uncomfortable as before. Finally, the man sighed, shaking his head as if giving up a battle he hadn’t agreed to fight. “Fine. I’ll change.”
“Good!” Sunoo brightened, his smile soft and unguarded. “And after that… maybe let me buy you another coffee? A replacement for the one I ruined. Or, you know, as a bribe so you don’t hate me forever.”
The man studied him for a long moment before answering, his voice quiet, cool, but not quite as icy as before. “We’ll see.”
And with that, he turned toward the restroom, clutching Sunoo’s shirt in his hand. Sunoo watched him go, heart still racing, his guilt slowly being replaced with something warmer—something he couldn’t quite name yet.
Sunghoon tugged at the hem of the clean shirt as he stepped out of the restroom, feeling oddly self-conscious in something that wasn’t his. The fabric smelled faintly of laundry soap—fresh, light, nothing like the sterile airport air. He hadn’t expected to see anyone waiting, but there he was.
Sunoo leaned casually against the wall, phone in hand, and the moment their eyes met, he straightened up with a small, sheepish smile. “Oh, you’re done. The shirt looks good on you.”
Sunghoon blinked, caught off guard. “You… waited?” His tone held the same cool edge, but there was a flicker of confusion underneath.
Sunoo nodded like it was the most natural thing in the world. “Of course. I felt guilty. Couldn’t just let you walk off with coffee trauma and my shirt.” He tilted his head toward the corridor leading back to the lounge. “Come on. Let me make it up to you. Coffee’s on me.”
Sunghoon hesitated, his instinct screaming to decline. He didn’t like owing people, didn’t like small talk, didn’t like… this kind of warmth that felt a little too easy. But then Sunoo gave him that wide-eyed, pleading look, and before he knew it, he found himself muttering, “Fine.”
The café wasn’t crowded, just a few passengers scattered with their suitcases and laptops. They ordered at the counter—Sunoo brightly asking for tiramisu cake to go with his latte, and Sunghoon, almost absently, echoing the same choice.
That was when Sunoo whipped his head toward him, surprised. “Wait—you like tiramisu too?”
Sunghoon blinked at the tone, as if Sunoo had just uncovered some great secret. “…Yeah. Why?”
Sunoo grinned, wide and disarming. “No reason. Just—it’s my favorite. Feels like fate, you know? Coffee disaster and cake destiny.” He laughed softly at his own words, eyes crinkling at the corners.
For the first time, Sunghoon’s lips curved, just a small chuckle slipping out. It was quick, almost reluctant, but it was there. “Cake destiny? That’s the worst line I’ve ever heard.”
Sunoo gasped, pretending to be offended, though he was secretly thrilled he’d gotten him to laugh. “Hey, I’m trying here! At least you smiled, that counts as a win in my book.”
Their trays arrived—two slices of tiramisu and their drinks—and they carried them over to a corner table by the window. As they sat down, the tension between them felt softer now, less brittle.
Sunoo dug into his cake eagerly, humming in approval at the first bite. Sunghoon, watching him from across the table, couldn’t help but shake his head slightly.
“You eat like it’s the best thing you’ve ever tasted,” Sunghoon murmured, taking his own careful bite.
“That’s because it is,” Sunoo replied, eyes bright with sincerity. “I mean, look at it—it’s soft, creamy, a little bitter, a little sweet. Honestly, tiramisu might be proof that life isn’t all that bad.”
Sunghoon looked down at his fork, then back at Sunoo, and to his own surprise, he found himself smiling again. Just a small one, but real this time.
Maybe this stranger was warmer than he’d expected. Warm enough to melt a little ice without even trying.
The café window rattled faintly every time the announcement speakers echoed through the terminal. Their table was tucked away in a quiet corner, two slices of tiramisu between them and the steam from their drinks curling in the air. For a moment, the silence stretched again—Sunghoon, calmly slicing his cake into neat squares, and Sunoo, watching him with barely concealed curiosity.
“So,” Sunoo finally said, tilting his head, “what brings you here? Business or pleasure?”
Sunghoon’s fork paused midair. He glanced up, expression unreadable.
“Conference. Seoul to Zurich, then Zurich to Milan.”
“Ooh, Milan,” Sunoo said, eyes widening. “Very fancy. You sound like one of those important people who give serious speeches in rooms full of serious people.”
He straightened his back, deepened his voice in an exaggerated imitation: “Ladies and gentlemen, as you can see from the graph behind me—”
Sunghoon raised an eyebrow, deadpan. “That was very terrible. And I don't sound like that.”
Sunoo pouted dramatically, stabbing his tiramisu. “Wow. Harsh critic. You could’ve at least given me a B minus for the effort.”
“Maybe, you get a C,” Sunghoon corrected smoothly. “Minus.”
That made Sunoo laugh, bright and unbothered. “I’ll take it. C minus still counted as a pass, right?”
Sunghoon shook his head, but his lips twitched as if he was holding back another smile. He finally took a bite of his cake, chewing slowly while Sunoo sipped his latte.
“And you?” Sunghoon asked after a pause, his voice low but curious.
“What brings you here?”
“Visiting my family,” Sunoo answered easily. “They live in California. It’s been a while since I last saw them, so… I’m enduring a twelve-hour flight just for my mom’s cooking and my sister’s endless nagging.”
He leaned closer, stage-whispering, “She’s worse than any TSA.”
That pulled a small chuckle out of Sunghoon before he could stop it.
“How so?” Sunghoon's face is very flat but his eyes were very much sparkling.
“Oh, she inspects everything. My outfits, my hair, my friends, even my text messages if she manages to get hold of my phone. Last time I visited, she asked if I’d found a nice person to date yet. I told her I was too busy and she said, ‘Well, if you don’t have time to date, at least bring home a dog.’”
Sunghoon almost choked on his coffee, quickly covering his mouth as Sunoo’s grin grew wider.
“See?” Sunoo said triumphantly, pointing at him with his fork. “I knew you’d laugh eventually. You’ve got a good laugh, you should use it more often.”
Sunghoon cleared his throat, quickly schooling his features back to neutral. “That's because you talk too much.”
“And yet,” Sunoo said, leaning back with a smug little smile, “you’re still sitting here, listening.”
Sunghoon had no response to that, so he took another slow bite of his cake.
Sunoo, unfazed, continued. “So, what’s the conference about? Please tell me it’s not something boring like… corporate finance.”
“It’s a sports science conference,” Sunghoon said, setting down his fork.
“Figure skating biomechanics. I will sound like a geek if you ask me to explain what it is about.”
Sunoo blinked. “Wait, hold on. You skate? Like on the ice?”
Sunghoon nodded once, matter-of-fact.
“That explains the pale, elegant vibe,” Sunoo said, snapping his fingers as if it all clicked together.
“You look like you just walked out of a snow globe. All refined and cold, like—” he waved his fork in the air dramatically— “an ice prince!”
Sunghoon sighed, but there was the faintest flush at the tips of his ears.
“That’s probably the most ridiculous thing I have ever heard.”
“No, no, it fits perfectly,” Sunoo insisted, grinning. “Ice prince, stranded at an airport, rescued by—” he gestured at himself, “—the overly chatty coffee fairy.”
“You spilled a caramel latte on me,” Sunghoon reminded him flatly.
“Details, details,” Sunoo said with a dismissive wave. “Every fairy tale has a dramatic opening.”
Sunghoon actually laughed this time, quiet and low, and Sunoo lit up like he’d just won the lottery. “There it is again! I knew I could get you twice.”
“I regret agreeing to sit here,” Sunghoon muttered, but his voice had lost its sharpness.
“No, you don’t,” Sunoo countered easily, taking another bite of cake. “Otherwise you’d already be back at your gate pretending I don’t exist.”
Sunghoon said nothing, but he didn’t deny it either. His eyes lingered on Sunoo a little longer than before—on the way his smile seemed to brighten the dull airport café, on how effortless his warmth was.
Sunoo leaned his chin on his palm, studying him back with a softer expression now. “So, Milan. Big trip. How do you feel about long flights?”
“They’re… tolerable,” Sunghoon replied after a beat. “I use the time to sleep, or work.”
“Typical ice prince answer,” Sunoo teased. “Me? I spend half the time choosing movies and the other half regretting my choices. Last time I watched a horror film on a plane and screamed out loud. People thought we hit turbulence.”
Sunghoon blinked, then shook his head slowly. “You’re unbelievable.”
“And yet—” Sunoo started.
“Still sitting here,” Sunghoon finished for him, his lips twitching again.
They shared a look across the table, a brief silence that wasn’t uncomfortable anymore. The airport noise faded into the background, the tiramisu half-eaten and forgotten as their conversation flowed from one topic to the next—movies, childhood stories, the worst airplane food they’d ever eaten.
Sunghoon knew he was in trouble the moment Sunoo leaned forward, laughing with his whole body—eyes squinting, nose crinkling, shoulders shaking just slightly. The sound was bright, bubbling, alive, and it made something in Sunghoon’s chest stir in a way he wasn’t prepared for.
No. Absolutely not. Don’t even think about it.
He straightened in his chair, gripping his coffee cup a little too tightly, as if caffeine could ground him. Sunoo wasn’t supposed to be anything more than an annoying stranger he’d met by accident. Just someone to kill time with while waiting for flights.
But somehow, with every grin, every teasing remark, every shamelessly warm glance across the table, Sunoo was prying open cracks in the wall Sunghoon had built around himself.
And Sunghoon could feel it happening.
Stop looking at his smile. Don’t notice his whiskers dimples. Don’t—damn it, you’re noticing his whisker dimples. Park Sunghoon, for the love of God, please get yourself together.
He shoved another bite of tiramisu into his mouth just to keep from saying something stupid.
“So,” Sunoo said, tilting his head like he was studying him. “You look like someone who has his life all figured out. Like, neat calendar, color-coded notes, one of those people who never forgets their passwords. Oh, and a neat freak too.”
Sunghoon raised a brow. “That’s oddly specific.”
“Because it’s true, isn’t it?” Sunoo grinned knowingly. “Meanwhile, I once forgot my own Netflix password for three months. Had to survive on YouTube clips.”
Sunghoon almost smiled, but he forced himself to stay composed. “You survived. Congratulations, buddy.”
“Barely,” Sunoo said with mock gravity. Then, his eyes softened. “But really… you’re a figure skater, right? What’s that like? Must take so much discipline and a lot of time freezing your ass off. It’s kind of amazing.”
The sincerity in his tone caught Sunghoon off guard. Most people only saw the performances, the medals, the glamour. Rarely did anyone think about the grind behind it.
He cleared his throat, suddenly too aware of how much Sunoo was watching him. “It’s… hard. But rewarding. I’ve been skating since I was a kid. At some point, it stopped being just a hobby.”
Sunoo nodded slowly, propping his chin on his hand, giving him his full attention. “That’s so cool. You know, I kind of envy people like you. You found your thing early on.”
Sunghoon frowned faintly. “And you haven’t?”
“Nope.” Sunoo chuckled lightly, but there was honesty in his words. “I’m still figuring it out. I’ve tried a lot of stuff, but… I guess I’m just waiting for something to click, you know? For now, I just do part-time jobs here and there. Keeps me moving, keeps me meeting people.” His eyes twinkled as he lifted his cup. “Like you.”
Sunghoon’s throat went dry. He looked away quickly, pretending to focus on stirring his coffee though there was nothing left to stir.
Don’t read into it. Don’t. He’s just being friendly. He’s… charming, not flirting. Definitely not flirting. Get your shit together, Park Sunghoon.
But the warmth in Sunoo’s eyes lingered in his head, and Sunghoon’s pulse refused to calm down.
“Honestly,” Sunoo continued casually, “if I could dream big, I’d want to do something creative. Maybe photography. I like capturing things people overlook—the little details. Or maybe something with travel. I mean, airports are stressful, but they’re also kind of magical, don’t you think? So many people, so many stories crossing paths.” He paused, smiling wistfully. “Like ours.”
Sunghoon’s stomach dropped.
Ours. He was doomed. Completely, utterly doomed.
He cleared his throat, desperate to anchor the conversation back to neutral. “Photography suits you. You like… noticing things in ways maybe other people can’t. Like clouds with weird shapes or just about anything. Like that is how you can express your emotions. Through pictures.”
Sunoo’s smile widened. “Noticing you, for example?”
Sunghoon nearly choked on air. His ears burned red, and he knew Sunoo saw it because he laughed again, clearly delighted at the reaction.
“You’re… insufferable,” Sunghoon muttered, but his voice lacked bite.
“And yet,” Sunoo sang cheerfully, leaning back in his chair, “you’re still sitting here.”
Sunghoon bit the inside of his cheek to stop the smile threatening to escape. He tried to compose himself, tried to play it cool, but his mind was already racing ahead.
The conference in Milan. Sunoo’s family in California. They’d be flying in opposite directions in just a few hours, and the thought made his chest tighten unexpectedly.
I can’t let this end here. Sunghoon, grow some balls and ask him out.
He watched as Sunoo reached across the table for the last bite of tiramisu, humming happily as he claimed it. Something about the way he did it—so unguarded, so completely present—made Sunghoon’s resolve snap into place.
He wanted to see him again.
The thought made his pulse spike. He’d never done this before, never asked someone out like this. What if Sunoo laughed it off? What if it ruined the moment?
But then Sunoo licked a stray crumb off his fork, looked up at him with those bright, curious eyes, and Sunghoon thought—to hell with it.
“Sunoo,” he said quietly, more serious than he intended.
Sunoo tilted his head, smile softening. “Yeah?”
Sunghoon swallowed, his fingers tightening around his cup. He forced the words out before he could talk himself out of it. “When this flight is over… when our trips are over… would you want to—” he hesitated, then exhaled, “—meet again? Go on a… date?”
For a second, Sunoo just blinked at him, as if surprised the ice prince could even say the word. Then, slowly, a grin spread across his face, bright and unstoppable.
“Took you long enough,” Sunoo said, voice teasing but eyes warm.
Sunghoon blinked, stunned. “What—”
“I was wondering when you’d ask.” Sunoo laughed, reaching across the table to nudge his hand lightly. “Yes, Sunghoon. I’d love to. You are not the most boring person on earth. I'll survive.”
They lingered in the café far longer than either of them realized. Time slipped easily between their fingers, conversation flowing like they’d known each other for years instead of hours. Sunoo had coaxed stories out of Sunghoon—short ones at first, little anecdotes about early morning practices and skating accidents—and Sunghoon found himself listening, actually listening, to Sunoo’s rambling stories about his part-time jobs and the strange people he’d met.
When the plates were empty, they still didn’t move.
Sunoo rested his chin on his palm, watching the streams of passengers outside the café window. “You know, airports make me feel small sometimes. Like… we’re just two out of thousands of people rushing around. And yet, somehow, we crossed paths.” He smiled faintly, turning back to him. “Kinda makes me wonder what else is waiting, you know?”
Sunghoon studied him quietly. He wanted to say something—something steady, reassuring—but the words stuck. So instead, he murmured, “I don’t think I mind being one of thousands. Not if it meant finding you.”
Sunoo blinked, caught off guard. Then his grin broke through, wide and unrestrained. “Wow. Ice prince turning into a poet now. You're quick at shifting occupations. Should I be flattered?”
Sunghoon flushed faintly, averting his gaze. “…Forget I said anything.”
“Nope. Not a chance,” Sunoo said sing-song, clearly delighted. “I’m engraving that line into my memory forever.”
Before Sunghoon could argue, the airport speakers cracked to life overhead.
“Attention passengers—final boarding call for Flight 218 to Zurich. Passengers, please proceed to Gate 15 immediately.”
Sunghoon’s stomach dropped. His flight.
Almost immediately after, another announcement followed:
“Attention passengers—Flight 307 to Los Angeles now boarding at Gate 22.”
Sunoo groaned, leaning back in his chair. “Of course. Perfect timing. The universe really loves drama. I just hope it will be a happy one.”
They stood reluctantly, slinging their bags over their shoulders. For a moment, neither moved, both hovering by the table like staying a few more seconds might stop the inevitable.
“So,” Sunoo said softly, “I guess this is it.”
Sunghoon hesitated, then reached into his pocket for his phone. His voice was quiet but certain. “Give me your number.”
Sunoo chuckled, pulling out his own phone. “Bossy, aren’t you?” But he typed it in quickly, handing the screen over. “There. Now you can’t escape me.”
Sunghoon smirked faintly, saving the contact. “I wasn’t planning to.”
They shared a look—hesitant, warm, a little bittersweet. Then Sunoo broke the silence with a grin. “Promise me something, Ice Prince.”
“What?”
“Don’t forget to actually text me. Or else I’ll tell everyone you cried over tiramisu at an airport café.”
“I did not cry—” Sunghoon started, but Sunoo was already laughing, backing away toward his gate.
“See you, Sunghoon,” Sunoo called over the crowd, still smiling.
And Sunghoon, heart pounding in a way he couldn’t control, found himself answering before he could stop it.
“See you, Sunoo.”
He watched until Sunoo disappeared into the crowd, the warmth of his laughter still lingering in his ears.
Out of all the times he had been in airports, this is the only time that waiting for a flight didn’t feel lonely at all.