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“This is a gate change announcement and a gate change announcement only. Flight WN7046 is now leaving out of Gate E35.” It felt as if the crackling, barely audible voice that the ancient loudspeakers were projecting was taunting you. As you got up to switch gates for the tenth time, you glanced at the clock on the gate sign: 10:15 PM. Your flight had originally been scheduled for 7:00 PM, but a sudden onslaught of black clouds, bright lightning, strong winds, and possible tornadoes in the area had effectively shut down the airport. All flights had been diverted to the closest unaffected city, and your flight time kept getting steadily pushed back further and further. Any hope of getting home to your warm bed and even warmer boyfriend, Kim Namjoon, before midnight had disappeared hours ago; now you were wondering if you would make it home within the next two days. The possibility of your flight getting completely canceled and you getting stranded in this godforsaken place was increasing by the minute.
You had been trying to keep your spirits up—there was nothing to be done about the weather, and complaining about it wouldn’t change anything. Your patience was waning, though, and this most recent gate change was the final straw. When you got to Gate E35, only to realize it was a gate you had already been to before, about three changes earlier, you couldn’t help it. The tears that had been prickling the backs of your eyes for the last hour or so could no longer be contained. You quickly found the nearest bathroom and locked yourself away to let the wave of tears pass in private.
You knew this was about more than just the gate change, the delayed flight, or the devastating storms nearby; you were returning home after an exhausting, week-long work trip with your current biggest nemesis: your boss, Judy. She constantly nitpicked everything you did, micromanaged your every move, and took every possible chance to make scathing comments about you, your looks, your work ethic—anything she could find in the moment, really. When she had decided to change her return flight to something earlier (“I’m ready to get back to more scintillating company,” she had said), you had internally rejoiced at the thought of flying home without the wretched woman. Now, you almost wished she were here, forced to suffer alongside you.
It also didn’t help that Namjoon had already been home for about two days on a brief break from tour, and would be leaving again for the next leg at the end of the week. The thought of missing out on any of the precious little time you had with him while he was out touring for months at a time was devastating.
You hated adding to NJ’s already overloaded plate, and while he had originally been set to come get you from the airport to maximize your time together, you took out your phone to text him after the latest gate change. Through tears, you explained what had happened, apologizing profusely and telling him that he should just go ahead and prepare for bed—you would hire a ride home. You had been keeping him updated, but had left out many of the details, knowing that he would be stressed by your situation and his inability to help you. You couldn’t help it this time, though, and let slip that you were feeling frazzled by the chaos, upset at missing time with him, and so stressed from the combined shitty work trip and terrible travel day that you had ended up having a small breakdown in the bathroom. When Namjoon hadn’t responded by the time you had calmed down, you thought he might have fallen asleep waiting up for you, and honestly, you couldn’t really blame him.
After you emerged from the bathroom, the plane you had been waiting for had finally arrived. You looked back at the gate sign clock that had sent you into a spiral earlier, now reading 11:45 PM. Even though the minutes were steadily ticking by, you had hope again. You would be home soon—home with Namjoon after weeks and weeks—and the thought of that made this whole terrible, no good, rotten day worth it.
By the time you landed and finally managed to get your bag from baggage claim, you were beyond exhausted. You made your way outside, unlocking your phone to call a ride and trying to ignore the bright white 2:47 AM that blinked up at you. As you crossed the threshold outside, you finally looked up to figure out where to wait and noticed a familiar car, with a very familiar figure leaning against the back door. You almost dropped your bags and phone in surprise, instead leaving them on the curb in favor of running over to the car and the tall, broad-shouldered man. You wrapped your arms tightly around his middle, and he leaned down, dropping a soft, chaste kiss to the top of your head.
“Namjoon!” you called out excitedly. “I thought you were asleep! I didn’t expect you to wait up so late to come get me!”
He let out that low chuckle that you loved so much before responding. “I know, but I wanted to surprise you. I wasn’t going to let anything get in the way of me seeing you after so long, even a tornado.”
Your eyes welled with tears at his kind words. You were so excited to see him, but you were also so, so tired and could feel yourself sagging into his safe arms. He laughed again before letting you go and guiding you to the passenger side door. As you climbed in, he leaned down, kissing you again, this time quickly on your lips, adding an “I missed you, love,” before reaching over to buckle you into the car. When he was sure you were secure, he went to gather the suitcases you had abandoned on the curb earlier, loading them into the car with an ease and strength that never failed to make you weak in the knees.
He soon followed you into the car, buckling himself in and putting it into drive, but not before grabbing your hand. He brushed his lips across your knuckles, as if now that you were there, he couldn’t get enough of touching you. You could feel yourself blush from the attention. It had been so long since you had seen him in person and not through a phone screen, so it wasn’t surprising that you couldn’t take your eyes off him while he guided the car back home.
He glanced over at you, self-conscious. “What, is there something wrong with my hair?”
Now it was your turn to laugh quietly, pulling your hands back into your lap. You turned to watch the city pass by before answering. “No, I just missed you too, silly. And…” you hesitated a moment before finishing, “it really means a lot that you still came to pick me up. I’ve had the week from hell, and I’m just so glad to see you.”
Namjoon hummed in agreement. “Yeah…I love touring, but this leg has been rough, and I needed to see you as soon as possible before I went crazy. I hate that work has been so hard for you lately too, but it seems like we were in the same boat, at least.”
He glanced over at you again before adding, “I know I’m not around as much as either of us would like, and it means the world to me that you’ve supported me through this. I want to make sure I show you that same support back however I can, even if it means staying up all night and picking you up at the airport at 3 AM,” he finished teasingly.
You didn’t know if it was the exhaustion, the late hour, or just the sweet sentiment, but your words failed you. All you could say back was, “I love you, Namjoon.”
He smiled, keeping his eyes on the road. “I love you too, darling. Now sit back and enjoy the ride—we still have a bit before we get home.”
Next thing you knew, the car door was opening, and Namjoon was leaning over you, quietly calling your name to wake you. You silently cursed yourself for falling asleep, immediately regretting losing out on any time together.
Namjoon knew what you were thinking without you having to say it, and he quickly—but lovingly—chastised you. “Don’t be upset. It was only about 15 minutes, and you were so tired I just couldn’t bear to wake you up. We’re still together, whether you’re awake or not; we’re together, and that’s all that matters.”
It was your turn to reach up and kiss him before helping him get your bags as you headed inside to your shared apartment.
As you walked down the hall, you mentioned offhandedly that something smelled good and wondered aloud what your neighbors had cooked earlier. Namjoon said nothing as he opened the apartment door, and when you crossed the threshold, you saw why. Your neighbors hadn’t cooked—Namjoon had. Namjoon had cooked for you, with no loss of limb or serious property damage. You knew how much he struggled in the kitchen, even after years of practicing, and the thought of him planning and cooking a meal for your return filled your heart to bursting.
He stood next to you, shuffling his feet nervously. “I told you I wanted to surprise you. It’s simple, and maybe only lukewarm because I made it earlier when I thought you would be here, so it might be cold, and you might not even like it—if you don’t want to eat it, it’s okay—”
You were the one to interrupt the self-deprecating rant this time, reassuring him that you would love anything he made for you. He grinned in response, guiding you to the table.
“I know it’s pretty late, so just have a little, and I’ll put away the rest,” he said. “I just wanted to make sure you had something to eat when you got home.”
At that, he served you a little soup and fish, watching your response to the food intently. You reassured him again that the food was delicious. “I love it, Namjoon, thank you. I appreciate this more than you know. I wish I could eat more.” You went to pick up your dishes and take them to the sink, but he stopped you, grabbing them to wash them himself and telling you to sit back down and relax.
As he washed the few dishes and put the leftovers away, you glanced around your home, noticing that it looked significantly cleaner than when you had left. The laundry was put away, the floors were swept, and the counters were damn near sparkling.
“Namjoon…did you clean too? When did you have the time to do all of this?” you asked, bewildered.
“Before I cooked. I told you, I wanted to take care of you! I didn’t want you to have to think of anything other than resting and spending time together when you got back,” Namjoon replied.
Again, you struggled to find the words, instead coming up behind him and hugging him tightly from behind. He tensed slightly in surprise before drying his hands and turning around to hug you back. The hug was short, though, before he ushered you out of the room to your bedroom and then the bathroom. He sat you on the closed toilet lid before turning and starting to run warm water into the bathtub. You watched as he unwrapped a brand new container of bath salts and essential oils, adding both into the water. You looked at him, confused.
“I know it’s late, but I told you…I wanted to take care of you,” he said shyly. “I planned all this out before your flight got delayed, and even though you’re sleepy, I still think you deserved—and needed—to relax a bit after the day you’d had.”
You were going to have no more tears left to cry by the time morning came if Namjoon had anything to do with it, apparently. You grabbed hold of him again, nearly smothering yourself in his chest. You spoke, muffled against his sternum, “Namjoon, this is all so thoughtful. I don’t even know what to say other than thank you. I love you so much, and I don’t know what I did to deserve this or you.”
He pulled back a little to stare directly into your eyes before saying, “All you have to do is be you. You’re all I want, and all I need, darling. I love you, too.” He moved away to turn off the hot water, adding, “Now get undressed and get in the bath, I’m gonna be ready to pass out soon.” With that, he lit some candles he had placed on the counter, turned down the lights, and headed into the bedroom.
You looked at yourself in the mirror, shrugging, before complying with your boyfriend’s loving demands.
You emerged from the bathroom, warm, red-tinted, and slightly wrinkly, to see Namjoon asleep in your bed. You smiled at the sight, thinking about how much you had missed this—how much you had missed him while he was gone. You tried to climb into the bed as slowly as possible so as not to disturb him, but you should have known he was too much of a light sleeper not to be disturbed.
He turned toward you, blinking slowly, asking in his sleep-laden, gravelly voice, “Did you have a nice bath?”
You smiled again. “Yes, I did. Thank you, Namjoon.”
“Were you surprised?” he asked sleepily.
“Yes, I was, though I shouldn’t have been. You always did such a good job taking care of me,” you told him.
At that, he gathered you into his arms, and you nestled into him and the pillows. You breathed in his warm, woodsy scent. It was nights and moments like these that made all the long tours, long flights, and long periods of time apart worth it. You loved him more than life itself, and you wouldn’t have traded this life for anything or anyone.
When Namjoon nuzzled his head into the crook of your neck, whispering “I love you” over and over again until his voice trailed off and his breaths evened out, you knew that you didn’t belong anywhere but here, with him. His hair tickled your skin, his breath warmed you from the inside out, and it felt almost as if your heart was beating his name. Your love for him was all-consuming, and you knew that despite the miles and weeks apart, he felt the same way. You felt it in the way he said your name, the way he always made time for you, the way he made you laugh, the way he took care of you, no matter how tired he was. He deserved the world, and you promised to spend the rest of your life giving it to him.
As the sun started to peek over the horizon, sleep soon took you, too—your arms, thoughts, and dreams filled with nothing but Namjoon.
You wouldn’t want it any other way.