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Hongjoong was already way too exhausted after his long flight from Barcelona when he noticed the same woman for the third time near baggage claim.
The first time, he told himself he was imagining it. Airports were crowded; people walked in the same direction all the time. It meant nothing that she had been standing near the carousel when he collected his suitcase, or that she had started moving at almost the same time he did.
The second time, he was less sure.
He had stopped near one of the large information screens because his manager had somehow disappeared between immigration and baggage claim. Hongjoong had been trying to work out whether he was supposed to head toward the main exit or wait where he was when he caught sight of the same woman in the reflection of the screen.
She had stopped too. Still, there could have been an explanation.
The third time, Hongjoong turned around suddenly and saw her raise her phone.
That was enough. He stopped beside one of the wide pillars near the edge of the terminal and pulled out his own phone, pretending he had simply received a message. His screen was painfully empty. Nothing from his manager, and nothing from the staff members who had been walking with them earlier. Not even one useless little Where are you? that Hongjoong could complain about later.
“Great,” he muttered under his mask.
He had somehow managed to lose both his staff and his sense of direction within twenty minutes of landing. That had to be some kind of record.
Hongjoong tugged his hood lower and immediately regretted, for perhaps the sixth time that morning, choosing the yellow hoodie.
To be fair, it had seemed like a good idea when he left the hotel. Comfortable, oversized, warm enough for the flight. Unfortunately, it was also the brightest yellow known to humankind.
He glanced sideways at the glass wall beside him.
And there she was.
The woman had stopped several metres away and was pretending to read a sign.
Hongjoong sighed. “Seriously?”
He looked back down and typed another message to his manager.
Where are you?
He waited a few seconds. Nothing. No reply.
Then, because apparently his manager needed encouragement to take him seriously:
I think someone is following me.
Still nothing.
Hongjoong stared at the screen sarcastically. “You’re so useful. Thank you.”
There were plenty of people around. Families arguing over luggage, tourists gathered around maps, couples drinking coffee despite the ridiculous airport prices. He could maybe find an employee. He could even walk directly to security really. Those were probably the sensible options. Hongjoong knew this. Instead, his attention landed on a man standing near the exit. Hongjoong stared.
The stranger was tall enough to be visible over most of the crowd and dressed almost entirely in black, if not for the white shirt peeking through. Black hoodie. Black trousers. Black mask. A leather jacket layered over everything like the outfit was not intimidating enough already.
And sunglasses. Indoors. At an airport mind you.
Hongjoong tilted his head. He looked like the kind of person strangers would instinctively move out of the way for.
Perfect.
Hongjoong checked over his shoulder again. The woman was moving again.
Right. No time to overthink it. He picked up his suitcase and headed straight toward the stranger.
The man noticed him when Hongjoong was only a few steps away. His head turned, and even through the glasses Hongjoong could feel himself being assessed. For a brief second, he considered changing course and pretending he had actually been heading toward the vending machine behind him. But then the woman appeared at the edge of his vision.
Hongjoong walked right up to the stranger. “Could you pretend you know me?”
There was a pause. The man looked down at him.
Hongjoong suddenly became very aware that this was, objectively, a very bizarre thing to say to someone he had never met before.
He lowered his voice. “Please. Just for a minute.”
The stranger did not answer immediately. Instead, his gaze shifted over Hongjoong’s shoulder.
Whatever he saw seemed to make the situation clear. His posture changed.
Then, without warning, he stepped closer and slipped an arm naturally around Hongjoong’s shoulders.
“There you are,” he said, loud enough to be heard by anyone watching. “I was starting to think you’d wandered into the wrong terminal.”
Hongjoong blinked. Oh. He was good at this.
Right. Act normal.
Hongjoong forced his shoulders to relax under the stranger’s arm. “I didn’t wander into the wrong terminal.”
“You disappeared for twenty minutes babe.”
“I got turned around.”
“So you got lost…”
“That is not the same thing.”
“It sounds exactly that to me.”
Hongjoong looked up at him.
The stranger was still watching the space behind them as though their conversation required none of his attention at all.
Hongjoong leaned closer and dropped his voice until only the man could hear. “Is she still there?”
“Yes.”
His stomach sank. “Damn.”
“Do you know her?”
Hongjoong hesitated. “Not personally.”
The stranger looked down at him.
“I mean, I don’t know her at all. I’ve just seen her following me for a while now.”
“How long?”
“Since baggage claim, I think. Maybe before that. I only really noticed after I picked up my suitcase.”
The man's arm tightened slightly around his shoulders. “Okay,” he said. “Come with me.”
Hongjoong frowned. “Where?”
“Somewhere less open.”
“That sounds suspicious when you say it like that.”
“You walked up to a complete stranger and made the most ridiculous request. I think we passed suspicious several minutes ago.”
Hongjoong had to admit he had a point.
They started walking together toward the other side of the terminal. The stranger kept his arm around Hongjoong’s shoulders, which forced Hongjoong to match his much longer stride.
After roughly thirty seconds, curiosity became unbearable. Hongjoong started turning his head.
“Don’t.”
He immediately faced forward again.
“I wasn’t doing anything.”
“You were about to look behind us.”
“No, I wasn’t.”
“Yes, you were.”
Hongjoong glanced up at him. “You don’t know me well enough, in fact, at all, to sound THAT confident.”
The stranger tilted his head slightly. “I’m pretending to know you. I’m trying to commit to the role.”
That caught Hongjoong off guard enough that he laughed. It came out muffled behind his mask. “That was terrible.”
“It worked.”
They kept walking up the escalator. The arm around his shoulders remained and Hongjoong became increasingly aware of it with every step.
Eventually he cleared his throat. “You know, you can probably take your arm off now.”
“She’s still watching us.”
Hongjoong paused. “Oh.”
The arm stayed. They passed a coffee shop, and Hongjoong glanced toward the dark reflection in the window rather than turning around outright.
He could still see the woman several metres behind them. She had stopped yet again.
His stomach tightened.
The stranger noticed before Hongjoong could say anything.
“Are you o-?”
“Yeah, I’m fine.”
There was a beat. “That was very convincing.”
Hongjoong frowned. “What?”
“You answered before I’d even finished asking.”
“I knew what you were going to say.”
“Or you’re nervous.”
“I’m not nervous.”
The stranger turned his head toward him.
Hongjoong sighed. “Fine. I’m a little nervous. Obviously.”
“That makes more sense.”
“You always analyse strangers this much?”
“Only cute ones who approach me at airports and ask me to play pretend.”
“Hey! I’m not a cutie!!”
They eventually reached a quieter section of the terminal with several rows of seats, half of them empty. The stranger gestured toward one. “Sit down for a minute.”
Hongjoong looked at him. “You’re very bossy.”
“And you look like you’re about to pass out with all the nerves.”
“I’m perfectly calm.”
“Sure! You have only checked your phone four times in the last two minutes.”
“That’s because my manager has abandoned me.”
“Yes, very calm.”
Hongjoong gave him a look and sat down. “Fine. Maybe slightly less than perfectly calm.”
The stranger sat beside him, leaving a polite amount of space between them now.
Hongjoong checked his phone again. Still nothing. The man noticed, because apparently, he noticed everything.
“You were supposed to meet your manager here?”
“Yes, my manager and some other staff.”
“And they lost you?”
Hongjoong immediately frowned. “They didn’t lose me.”
The stranger waited and eventually Hongjoong sighed. “Okay, maybe they lost me.”
“That seems irresponsible of them.”
“I’m almost thirty.”
“You can still get lost at almost thirty.”
“I did not get lost. We got separated.”
“Right. Yes.”
Hongjoong narrowed his eyes. “Are you making fun of me?”
“A little.”
“You didn’t seem like the type.”
The stranger looked over. “What type?”
Hongjoong gestured vaguely at him. “This type.”
“This type?”
“You know. The whole thing.” He waved his hand from the man's dark hair down toward the leather jacket.
“Black clothes, leather jacket, sunglasses indoors. Standing around looking like you’re about to collect money someone owes you.”
The stranger looked down at himself. “That’s incredibly rude!”
“It’s why I chose you.”
“That somehow makes it worse.”
“No, it means your image was effective. You should take it as a compliment.”
“My image??”
“You looked scary.”
“I was literally just standing there minding my business.”
“Well…you were standing there…menacingly.”
The stranger turned his head very slowly. Hongjoong started laughing before he even said anything.
“Sorry.”
“You should be.”
“But you were useful.”
“Useful?”
Hongjoong bit back another laugh. “That came out wrong.”
There was something strangely easy about talking to him. Hongjoong realised it after only a few minutes of sitting there. Maybe it was because the man clearly had no idea who he was. That almost never happened anymore.
People either recognised him immediately or spent several minutes pretending they had not before eventually asking for a photo. Sometimes they whispered, sometimes they stared. Sometimes they tried very hard not to stare, which was somehow even more obvious.
This man, though, had apparently decided Hongjoong was simply some strange little person in a bright yellow hoodie who had approached him with an emergency acting request.
It was nice.
Hongjoong looked toward the vending machines and spotted the woman again. “She really isn’t leaving.”
“No.”
“I was hoping she’d get bored once she thought I wasn’t alone.”
The stranger leaned back in his chair. “People like that usually don’t give up very quickly.”
The certainty in his voice made Hongjoong turn. “You sound like you know.”
The man was quiet for a second. “Unfortunately.”
Hongjoong studied what little he could see of his face. “You deal with this too?”
“Sometimes.”
That answer made Hongjoong curious. “So then you’re famous.”
There was a pause. “Maybe.”
Hongjoong immediately pointed at him. “That means yes.”
The stranger glanced down at Hongjoong's finger. “You answered the same way in your head just now, didn’t you?”
“That’s not the point.” Hongjoong leaned back and folded his arms. “Fine. What do you do?”
“I work in fashion.”
“Fashion?”
“Mm.”
Hongjoong considered the outfit again. “Designer? No. Stylist? Nah. Photographer?”
The stranger looked amused now. “No.”
Hongjoong frowned. “Are you going to make me list every job that exists?”
“I’m curious how long you’ll keep going.”
“I can keep going forever.”
“I believe you.”
Hongjoong stared at him.
The man finally gave in. “I wear clothes for work.”
Hongjoong waited. “That’s it?” Hongjoong blinked. “People pay you to wear clothes?”
“Usually.”
“Oh.”
The answer should have been obvious.
Hongjoong looked at his height again. Then at his shoulders. Then at the sunglasses that somehow managed to make sense now. Hongjoong nodded thoughtfully.
“You are one of those people who gets paid for catalogue shoots for those online clothing websites right?”
The stranger went completely still. Hongjoong immediately knew he had made a mistake.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“You looked offended. I could feel it.”
“I wasn’t offended.” The stranger let out a quiet laugh.
It was the first time Hongjoong had heard it properly, soft and surprisingly warm compared to everything else about him.
Hongjoong smiled without meaning to. “Okay, fine. High fashion?”
“Something like that.”
“You keep saying that.” Hongjoong looked at him again. “You’re so annoying.”
“Interesting, considering you picked me out of an entire airport.”
“That was based on intimidation alone, not personality.”
The man laughed again.
Hongjoong found himself enjoying this far too much.
“So,” the stranger said after a moment, “what do YOU do?”
“I work in music.”
“Singer?”
“Sometimes.”
“Songwriter?”
“Sometimes.”
“Producer?”
Hongjoong turned toward him. “How did you get that one?”
The man shrugged. “You look like you don’t sleep.”
Hongjoong stared. “That is incredibly rude.”
“Am I wrong?”
Hongjoong opened his mouth, closed it, then folded his arms tighter. “No.”
“I thought so.”
“I could sleep if I wanted to.”
“Of course.”
“I just have things to do.”
“I’m sure.”
“Why are you talking to me like you’ve known me for years?”
“Apparently I’m very committed to pretending.”
Hongjoong laughed again and shook his head.
His phone buzzed. Both of them looked down. Finally.
Coming. Come back near the baggage claim please. I’m with security too.
Hongjoong let out a long breath. “My manager finally remembered I exist.”
“Congratulations.”
“Thank you. It’s been a difficult…what…twenty minutes?”
“You’ve been very brave.”
Hongjoong turned toward him. “You’re enjoying this too much.”
“A little.”
Hongjoong instructed the stranger to let him near the baggage claim again, so they got up and started walking back.
The woman had moved with them. Again.
Hongjoong saw her almost immediately, now much closer than before. She stood near the end of the seating area, phone still in her hand pointed at him.
His body went tense before he could stop it as they took the escalator down.
The stranger followed his gaze. Then, without warning, he shifted closer.
His head came down lightly against Hongjoong’s hood, resting on his head, just near his shoulder. Hongjoong froze completely. He stared straight ahead.
“What are you doing?”
“Helping.”
“You’re on me.”
“I noticed.”
“You could have warned me.”
“Then you would have made that face before I did it.”
“What face?”
“The one you’re making now.”
Hongjoong carefully tried turning his head as soon as they exited the escalator. He could not see much of the man from this angle except dark hair and the edge of his sunglasses. “She’s still looking?”
“Yes.”
“So your solution was to do...whatever that was?”
“She’ll probably assume we’re together.”
Hongjoong almost choked. “We could just look like friends.”
“Friends don’t usually sit this close after an airport reunion.”
“You put us this close!”
“Exactly.”
Hongjoong stared ahead again. His ears were warm and red. Thank God for the hood.
“You’re very comfortable for someone who doesn’t know me.”
“You approached me.”
“You keep using that as an excuse for everything.”
“It’s a very useful excuse.”
Hongjoong shifted slightly beneath the weight against his shoulder.
“You’re heavy.”
“I’m barely touching you.”
“You’re still heavy.”
“You’re just small.”
Hongjoong’s head snapped around. “Excuse me?”
The stranger lifted his head just enough to look at him. “I didn’t say anything.”
“You absolutely did.”
“I think you misheard.”
“I did not mishear. You just called me small.”
The man was clearly smiling behind his mask.
Hongjoong pointed a warning finger at him. “You’re lucky I need you right now.”
“See? Useful.”
“That word has gotten to your head.”
He settled against Hongjoong as they took a seat yet again. Hongjoong should probably have complained. Instead, he found himself smiling.
For a while, neither of them spoke. People moved around them, carrying bags and children and cups of coffee. Suitcase wheels rattled over the tiled floor. An announcement echoed overhead in two languages. Somewhere nearby, a child was loudly asking for a croissant.
Hongjoong realised that he had stopped checking where the woman was every few seconds.
Maybe that had been the point.
Or maybe this stranger was simply very strange.
Either way, it was working. After a minute, Hongjoong said, “You know, you still haven’t told me your name.”
The man did not move from his shoulder.
“You haven’t told me yours either.”
“That’s true.”
“So we’re even.”
Hongjoong thought about it. “Maybe I don’t want you knowing my name.”
“Maybe I don’t want you knowing mine.”
“That’s suspicious.”
“You walked up to someone you thought looked like a criminal mind you.”
Hongjoong sighed. “You’re never going to let that go, are you?”
“Probably not.”
“Fine. Then I’m just calling you...Catalogue.”
The man finally lifted his head. “No.”
Hongjoong grinned. “Catalogue.”
“Absolutely not.”
“You refused to give me a name. This is the consequence.”
“You could choose something less insulting.”
“I could. I don’t want to.”
The man stared at him for a second.
“Then you’re Minion!”
Hongjoong gasped softly. “That is much worse.”
“You’re wearing yellow.”
“So?”
“And you are small. So it’s accurate.”
“Catalogue is accurate too.”
“It isn’t.”
“You do wear clothes professionally.”
“That is such an offensive summary of my career.”
Hongjoong laughed hard enough that his shoulders shook. He had almost forgotten where they were when someone shouted from across the terminal.
“Seonghwa!”
The man beside him stood upright immediately.
Hongjoong blinked. Seonghwa?
A man was hurrying toward them with two airport security staff following close behind. He looked both annoyed and deeply relieved. “There you are. We’ve been looking everywhere for you.”
Hongjoong glanced between them.
The man—Seonghwa, apparently—stood. His staff member(?) continued, “Security finally came with us. That woman has been following you since you landed.”
Hongjoong stopped breathing. He looked at the staff member. Then at the woman. Then very slowly at Seonghwa. “Following…”
Seonghwa looked down at him. Hongjoong pointed. “You?”
There was the smallest pause. “Yes.”
Hongjoong shot to his feet so quickly his suitcase tipped sideways. “That was your stalker?”
Seonghwa winced. Hongjoong stared at him in disbelief.
“I thought she was following me!”
“I gathered that.”
“You gathered that?”
“Yes.”
“And at no point did you think you should mention that she might actually be following you?”
Seonghwa seemed to consider this. “You never technically asked me whose stalker she was.”
Hongjoong's mouth fell open. “That is the stupidest technicality I have ever heard.”
“I didn’t want to interrupt your plan.”
“My plan was based entirely on wrong information!”
“It still worked.”
“For you!”
“And for you.”
“How did it work for me?”
“Well, you’re not alone anymore.”
Hongjoong stared at him. Seonghwa's eyes were visibly smiling behind the sunglasses. Hongjoong covered his face with one hand. “This is so embarrassing.”
“It was a little cute.”
His hand dropped immediately. “What?”
Before Seonghwa could answer, someone else shouted across the terminal.
“Hongjoong!”
Hongjoong turned. His manager was practically jogging toward them.
“Oh, finally.” His manager reached him, immediately checking his face, his bag, and apparently his general structural integrity.
“Are you okay? Why did you move from baggage claim earlier? I told you to stay near—”
“You disappeared!”
“I went to find security to escort you!”
“You could have texted me!”
“I did!”
“No, you didn’t!”
His manager pulled out his phone. Then frowned. “Oh.”
Hongjoong crossed his arms. “Exactly.”
“I didn’t press send.”
“Fantastic.”
His manager sighed. “I’m sorry. Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.”
Only then did his manager seem to properly notice the man standing beside Hongjoong.
He stopped.
Looked at Seonghwa.
Looked at Hongjoong.
Looked back at Seonghwa.
His expression changed completely.
“Why are you with Park Seonghwa?”
Hongjoong blinked. Park. Seonghwa. Something in his brain clicked slowly and painfully.
He turned.
Seonghwa had taken off his sunglasses.
Hongjoong knew that face. Of course, he knew that face. Everyone knew that face.
Hongjoong stared at him. Then pointed for what had to be the fourth time that morning.
“You’re Park Seonghwa.”
Seonghwa blinked once. “Yes?”
“You’re that Park Seonghwa?”
“I don’t know how many there are honestly.”
Hongjoong made a small, strangled noise. His manager was now staring at him like Hongjoong had personally betrayed him. “You didn’t know?”
“No!”
Seonghwa’s staff member looked equally confused.
Then Hongjoong’s manager frowned.
“Wait. He didn’t know who you were either?”
Seonghwa looked at Hongjoong. Really looked at him. Then his expression changed.
“Kim Hongjoong?”
Hongjoong stared back. “Oh, now you know?”
Seonghwa took his mask down slightly. “You’re the producer.”
Hongjoong folded his arms.
“One of several things I do, yes.”
“You work with KQ.”
“Yes.”
Seonghwa looked genuinely surprised.
Hongjoong went quiet.
Their managers exchanged a look that Hongjoong chose to pretend he had not seen.
Security moved closer to Seonghwa and began speaking quietly with him and his staff. At the other end of the terminal, the woman was being approached by another employee.
The whole thing was finally ending.
Which should have been a relief.
It was a relief.
Mostly.
Except now there was no reason for Hongjoong and Seonghwa to stay together. That thought arrived unexpectedly.
His manager touched his arm. “The car is outside. We should go before this becomes more complicated. We already spotted Dispatch around here earlier.”
“Oh.”
Seonghwa’s manager said something similar.
Hongjoong adjusted the strap of his bag.
“Well…”
Seonghwa looked at him.
“Well.”
Hongjoong rubbed the back of his neck. “Thanks, by the way.”
“For what?”
“For going along with it. You didn’t have to.”
Seonghwa smiled. “You looked worried.”
Hongjoong glanced away. “And sorry for accidentally using you as protection from your own stalker.”
“That was probably my favourite part.”
“I’m glad my humiliation could entertain you.”
“It was memorable.”
“I hate you.”
“No, you don’t.”
Hongjoong looked at him. The annoying thing was that Seonghwa said it so calmly. Like he knew. He had known this man for perhaps half an hour. He had thought he was a criminal. Then a catalogue model. Then some sort of mysterious fashion person. And now he was apparently Park Seonghwa, one of the most recognisable models in Korea, standing in front of him looking far too pleased with himself.
It should have been easy to say goodbye. For some reason, it wasn’t.
Apparently Seonghwa had reached the same conclusion, because he had not moved either.
Hongjoong cleared his throat.
“So…”
“So?”
“This is awkward now. My manager is listening.”
“I know.”
Hongjoong glanced sideways. His manager immediately looked away. Traitor. When Hongjoong turned back, Seonghwa had taken out his phone.
“Give me your number.”
Hongjoong blinked. “My number?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Seonghwa looked at him as though the answer were obvious. “In case you ever need someone scary at an airport again.”
Hongjoong smiled before he could stop himself. “That is your excuse?”
“It’s the best one I came up with on short notice.”
“You could have just said you wanted my number.”
“I could have.”
Hongjoong held his hand out. “Give me your phone.”
Seonghwa passed it over.
Hongjoong typed his number in, then stared at the contact-name field.
He smiled. Typed. Saved. Then handed the phone back.
Seonghwa looked down. His expression immediately went flat. “Yellow Hoodie Victim?”
Hongjoong nodded.
“Victim of what?”
“Manipulation.”
“You approached me.”
“Stop using that defence.”
“It continues to be relevant.”
Hongjoong laughed.
His manager called his name again, this time with considerably more impatience.
He stepped backward. “I really should go.”
“Me too.”
“Okay.”
“Okay.”
They stood there. Neither moved.
Hongjoong stared. Seonghwa stared back.
Eventually Hongjoong laughed.
“This is stupid.”
“A little.”
Hongjoong started walking backward toward his manager.
“Bye, Catalogue.”
Seonghwa shook his head.
“Bye, Minion.”
Hongjoong pointed at him. “Don’t call me that.”
“Have a safe drive, Hongjoong.” Something about hearing his name made Hongjoong stop arguing. He smiled.
“Bye, Seonghwa.”
Then he turned and followed his manager toward the exit.
He had barely made it fifteen steps when his phone buzzed.
Unknown number.
Hongjoong already knew.
He opened the message.
For the record, yellow looks very cute on you.
A grin spread across his face. He typed while walking.
For the record, sunglasses indoors really do make you look intimidating.
The reply came almost immediately.
You approached me anyway.
Hongjoong rolled his eyes.
Worst decision of my life.
Three dots appeared.
You still gave me your number.
Hongjoong stared at the message, then typed:
Temporary lapse in judgment.
Another reply.
Should I delete it?
Hongjoong stopped walking. His manager made it several steps ahead before noticing.
“Hm?”
“Nothing.”
Hongjoong looked down at the screen. His thumbs hovered. Then he typed:
No. I might need someone intimidating again.
There was a pause this time.
Good excuse.
Hongjoong smiled.
He glanced back. Seonghwa was still near the security desk, one hand in the pocket of his jacket and his phone in the other.
As though he had felt Hongjoong looking, he raised his head. Their eyes met across the terminal.
For a second, neither of them did anything.
Then Seonghwa lifted one hand.
Hongjoong lifted his too.
His manager looked between them. “What was that?”
Hongjoong shoved his phone into his pocket. “Nothing.”
The phone buzzed again almost immediately.
His manager looked down at Hongjoong’s pocket, then at Hongjoong. “Nothing?”
Hongjoong tried very hard to keep his face neutral. He failed. “Just walk.”
His manager laughed under his breath but thankfully let it go.
Hongjoong followed him toward the exit, still smiling behind his mask.
Maybe it really was nothing.
A weird airport encounter. A stranger helping another stranger. Something they would laugh about once and never think about again.
His phone buzzed for a third time.
Hongjoong pulled it out.
Coffee sometime? Somewhere without stalkers, preferably.
Hongjoong stared at the screen for all of two seconds. Then he typed back.
Only if you leave the sunglasses at home.
The answer appeared almost instantly.
No promises.
Hongjoong smiled as the airport doors opened in front of him.
Fine.
Maybe it was not nothing.