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When Donghyuck checks in his luggage at the counter, he is informed apologetically by the airline staff that the flight has been delayed. For just about an hour, or less, the pleasant girl who returns his boarding pass after stamping it assures, and he can’t bring himself to be annoyed at her.
He slings his carry-on over one shoulder and looks for a place nearby to sit. At the hour of 1 AM, the airport is relatively empty and most of the people around, his fellow passengers presumably, are sitting or sprawled quietly on chairs beside trolleys of their baggage, dozing or using their phones.
Which reminds Donghyuck that he needs to check whether Jisung has called or texted him one last time before boarding the plane. Distracted by the thought, he doesn’t bother looking for a spacious area away from others as he usually would. He sets his duffel bag down a few steps away, and sits down beside it, digging his phone out of his pocket.
It’s only after he’s found no texts from Jisung, only one from his parents wishing him a safe flight, that he realises he’s sitting opposite someone. The seats on his left and right are empty, but still. It feels like when it’s really congested in the train and he’s stranded unintentionally staring at the passenger opposite when he’s just trying to look straight ahead. It’s a little too close for his comfort to a stranger, and he would have moved a few seats away if it might not come across as rude. At least the person isn’t female.
The man seems to sense his attention, looking up. When he raises his face from his iPod Donghyuck can see that they’re around the same age. The other young man is dressed in casual, comfortable clothes — not nearly sweats but worn, distressed jeans and an unbuttoned short-sleeved button-down over a white tee.
He smiles slightly, surprising Donghyuck. It’s a polite, friendly smile, the flash of his teeth Donghyuck catches toothpaste-commercial white. Flustered, he hastily bares his own teeth in a probably much more awkward answering smile, and clears his throat, looking back down at his phone.
He scrolls through his messages for awhile more, re-reading old ones from Jisung. The last message is from him, read but unreplied. It simply contains his flight date and time. He wonders, for the umpteenth time, if he will see Jisung waiting outside Arrivals, looking pretty and missed, and what it will mean.
Lost in thought, he doesn’t notice the kid, a little girl of about four or five, careening towards him. She bumps into his hands and knees, making him gasp and the phone fall from his hands to the ground.
The child’s mother rushes up, apologising profusely to Donghyuck and making the girl bow to him too. Embarrassed at her hisses to “Say sorry to ahjussi!” Donghyuck hurries to assure them that it doesn’t matter and awkwardly ruffles the girl’s hair to show there are no hard feelings.
In the small commotion, he hasn’t picked up his phone yet. But as the mother departs with her kid in tow, he is startled once again by a hand forestalling him as he reaches for his phone on the sterile floor of the airport.
A delicate, fine-boned hand, tapering up to a thin wrist, offers him his fallen cell. Donghyuck looks up, eyes wide, to see the man sitting opposite leaning forward, eyes warm despite his quietness. Despite his almost girlishly slim wrist, his lower arms are thicker, and Donghyuck can see sinuous, defined muscle peeking out of his shirt sleeves. The man is wearing some sort of colourful braided bracelet, rugged as if travel-worn.
Donghyuck takes his phone from the outstretched palm, coughs and thanks him.
“Don’t mention it,” comes the reply in an unexpectedly low voice. Then a surprising addition: “You play the guitar?”
When he looks up to study the man, the other is the one blushing at his own forwardness. “I’m sorry, I couldn’t help but notice your calluses.”
Donghyuck hadn’t even realised the man was so observant. And now, freely admitting it with more bravery than Donghyuck. Something about this, and the gentle, mild-mannered demeanor of the man makes him want to ease his discomfort.
“It’s all right. Yeah, I do.
“You too?” he asks, without thinking, when the man just nods quietly at his answer without any further sign of wanting to extend the conversation.
The other smiles then, again, looking pleasantly surprised. “Just a little.” He shoots that lopsided, wry smile at Donghyuck, somehow winsome and shy at the same time.
Donghyuck nods seriously, and this time it’s his turn to be caught off guard when the stranger tacks on easily, “I’m Renjun, by the way.”
“Oh — uh, my name is Donghyuck. It’s nice to meet you.” Donghyuck hesitantly extends a hand again, and the palm he had grazed before while taking his phone from Renjun’s hand envelopes his this time, warm and slightly callused but mostly smooth, steady.
After a little more stilted banter in which they established they’re both waiting for the same flight, Donghyuck pulls up the cuff of his black sweatshirt to check his watch. The watch was given to him by Jisung, which makes him remember her every time he checks the time.
“Forty minutes more,” Renjun’s voice drifts to him, making Jisung leave his head. He sighs, looking tired for the first time as Donghyuck registers him, now free to stare from opposite. “Time passes more slowly in airports.”
“Is that so?” Donghyuck counters pleasantly, now not so aware of their exchange of queries and responses. Around them, strangers are starting to strike up conversations with their seat partners too, simply on the basis that they are passengers on the same flight stuck in the same delay. People are bonding over topics of families; business; holidays — but Donghyuck looks at Renjun and doesn’t see much they have in common… or anything, really. He isn’t even sure if Renjun is Korean, considering his name and slight, charming accent.
Renjun nods in answer to his question. “Sometimes, I guess. When one’s flight is delayed. But if you’re here with someone —“
He trails off, eyes looking distant, and Donghyuck wonders who he’s thinking of, if he is flying away or towards a girlfriend or a wife like Donghyuck. He kind of understands Renjun’s meaning, because when they were still college students, the airport was a place he often came with Jisung to study all night. It was perfect because it was deserted and quiet, and they could make out when they got bored of cramming and exhausted, needing each other’s lips to wake them up.
He hadn’t come here to study since Jisung left for Japan to pursue her post-graduate degree. It wasn’t any fun coming alone, just felt lonely.
Now, though, he finds himself not feeling lonely or even thinking of those heated study sessions; because of Renjun’s company. Donghyuck is glad he accidentally decided to sit down opposite Renjun. Otherwise, they might never have met in the waiting lounge full of strangers.
Since it feels inappropriately early to ask the qustion in his mind, whether Renjun is single, Donghyuck asks another.
“Where are you from?”
“I’m Chinese. But for a long time… home has been Seoul.” He smiles sheepishly at Donghyuck. “And… you? Are you heading for Japan for business or pleasure… or do you live there?”
“My… girlfriend is studying there.” It seems the topic came up anyway, despite his attempt to avoid it.
“Ah. Wow, we’re pretty similar.”
“… You’re going to visit someone too?”
Renjun nods, red creeping up his ears. “Er… kind of. But I can’t exactly call her my girlfriend yet. She’s someone… I’ve been chasing after for a long time, I guess you can say.”
Donghyuck gazes at Renjun with renewed curiosity. He wouldn’t have pegged him for the sort of guy who pursued a crush for a long time, determined and steadfast. But he supposes he knows nothing about Renjun after all.
“Good luck,” Donghyuck says, smiling at him relaxedly for the first time. “Your girl… she’s lucky.”
Renjun’s eyes widen at this, making Donghyuck notice how pretty they are — no, he’s never thought a man’s eyes as pretty. But Renjun’s are beautiful, enormous and almond-shaped. He meant it when he said his crush is lucky — not just in the physical sense, but he can already tell Renjun is a laidback, agreeable kind of gentleman.
“Thanks,” Renjun mumbles, awkwardly shy again at Donghyuck’s compliment. “Your girlfriend is very fortunate too.”
”How old are you?” Donghyuck blurts out apropos of nothing, to change the subject. Even though he feels at ease with Renjun now, he never expected to discuss his relationship with a stranger in the boarding hall. Belatedly, he realises his question sounded slightly brusque and he probably should have prefaced it with a polite if you don’t mind.
But Renjun doesn’t seem to, replying with a candid smile, “I just turned twenty-five, Korean age. What about you?”
Donghyuck swallows his surprise. “I’ll be twenty-five in a few months too.”
Renjun regards him with open wonder. “Who would’ve gussed you were younger than me?” Donghyuck is taken aback by the playful glint in his eye.
“We’re the same age,” he grouses. “It’s not like I have to call you hyung.”
“True,” Renjun hums, looking disappointed in a way that ridiculously makes Donghyuck want to call him hyung, at least once. He’s pleased Renjun thought he looked mature, even in his sloppy hooded sweatshirt and matching pants, his flightwear.
He notices a few frazzled parents heading for a cappuccino machine on a counter by the wall to get paper cups of coffee. Clearing his throat, he gets to his feet stiffly and stretches his arms.
“Restroom?” Renjun guesses, looking up at him, and Donghyuck shakes his head, inclining it in the direction of the machine.
“Coffee. You want a cup?”
Renjun raises his eyebrows at the small gaggle of people queuing up to get their post-midnight dose of caffeine.
“Yeah, I’m thirsty, actually. Thanks.”
It’s only as he’s walking to join the queue that Donghyuck realises his own throat is parched too. He’s not used to having long conversations, even with Jisung. And he definitely wasn’t expecting to have one tonight. They had talked about a wide array of topics while killing time, even though he’s already gathered Renjun isn’t exactly a talker. It must be something about the anonymity of the airport, the silence of the pitch dark outside the windows broken only by airplane lights, the sheer boredom of the endless wait, the mutual curiosity of their first unpredicted meeting. Talking to Renjun is easy, almost unnoticeably so. He checks his watch once more; another half hour had passed effortlessly while they were chatting.
He realises he forgot to ask Renjun what kind of coffee he would like when his turn arrives. He hadn’t known there was more than one type. Making a spontaneous decision, he decides that Renjun looks like a latte kind of person. For himself, he gets an Americano. Donghyuck carefully totes the paper cups in both hands as he walks back to where Renjun is waiting beside his bag — he had migrated to sit next to it somewhere at the start of their conversation, it being difficult to crane their bodies forward to speak to each other; and now they’re not exactly sitting beside each other but with Donghyuck’s bag between them, a comfortable length away.
Renjun smiles and accepts the hot cup from him, their fingers brushing again. Renjun’s are cool now, probably from the air-conditioning. It’s pretty cold in here; Donghyuck wonders if Renjun has an extra jacket in his backpack.
“Thank you, Donghyuck-ssi.”
“Just call me Donghyuck,” Donghyuck blurts out, somewhat uncomfortable with the formality.
“Donghyuck,” Renjun echoes obediently, only his bright eyes visible above the rim of the cup he’s sipping.
He takes a sip of his own cup after sitting down, not looking at Renjun for the first time but surveying their surroundings, the staff doing their last preparations before they open the boarding gates, parents starting to stuff toys and warm clothing into bags in anticipation of being called first.
“It’s pretty good,” Renjun says, bringing his attention back to him.
“Uh-huh.” Donghyuck takes another gulp. It’s bitter, as he likes it. Renjun seems to like the latte he got him.
Renjun finishes his cup and crumples the paper up. “No, no.” He waves Donghyuck off when he tries to get up and take it from his hands to help them both dispose it. “Let me go this time. I need to stretch my legs too. I think the plane will be open soon.”
Donghyuck is surprised to feel a pang of disappointment at his words, even though he already knew the hour that had felt so long and so short at the same time is coming to an end. After they board the plane, Renjun will be sitting far away from him, and he will be sitting beside another stranger who he already knows will not be as comfortable company as Renjun. He didn’t even ask which class Renjun’s ticket is in.
Donghyuck watches Renjun walk towards the rubbish bin. He looks slightly shorter than Donghyuck, his figure slighter, willowy and slender beneath the baggy clothes. But he moves with a loping grace that makes Donghyuck want to ask if he’s an athlete, or a dancer, or something. Also, Donghyuck isn’t used to noticing guys’ looks, but he can’t help having realised in the past hour that Renjun is extraordinarily good-looking. He could even be a model or actor, one of those idols Jisung used to go crazy about back when they were teenagers. Even in the state of dishevelment they’re both in from the wait in the cramped space, Renjun’s hair is gorgeously tousled and his pale skin looks flawless, glowing.
Realising he’s staring, Donghyuck quickly shifts his gaze back to the boarding gate before Renjun arrives. He sits down beside his backpack which he had left on the seat beside Donghyuck’s bag, seeming to trust Donghyuck to help him take care of it and not rob him. The row of seats dips slightly under his weight. Donghyuck hears a soft sigh from his direction.
“I’m going to the restroom before they call us,” Renjun says, and when Donghyuck turns he’s giving him a half-smile. He picks up his backpack and slings it over his shoulders, explaining, “I think they might let you in before I get back.” Sure enough, the children, sick and handicapped have already boarded and staff are starting to announce the next group of passengers over the PA system.
“I could wait,” Donghyuck blurts out, not understanding why he feels so lost at the thought of this being his abrupt separation from Renjun. They’re never going to see each other again — it’s unlikely they’ll bump accidentally in the luggage collection crowd at Narita.
Renjun shakes his head, smiling. “You go ahead in first,” he says, gently. “It’s been a long night.”
Donghyuck just sits there, rooted to his seat and not knowing what to say or do as a parting shot — should he pretend he needs to go to the toilet too? No, that’s too obvious — when Renjun turns around and adds, with his trademark understated, placid gentility, “And Donghyuck — I had fun talking to you.”
-
After he uses the facilities, Renjun washes his hands and bends to splash water on his face. It’s cool, bracing, making him feel wide awake. It isn’t as if he needs it, because he already doesn’t feel sleepy at all after talking to Donghyuck.
It'd been a good conversation, one of the best Renjun’s had in his life if he’s being honest. And he’d certainly never expected to find it in an airport lounge while waiting for a delayed plane to Tokyo. With a total stranger.
He supposes he has Chenle to thank for that — if it wasn’t for what he had vowed to himself in his effort to try hard to prove to her he could be open to opportunities too, he would never have been courageous enough to strike up a conversation with the chic, intimidating-looking young man sitting opposite him. At first, he had been worried Donghyuck had some important business to conduct on his phone, or a vital conversation he was in the middle of with his girlfriend, considering how intently he was staring at it after Renjun caught him staring at him the first time. But Donghyuck had turned out to be a pretty chill and relaxed kind of guy, someone obviously intelligent and educated, observant and thoughtful.
Renjun usually doesn’t have much to talk about with the gregarious types, but he found conversation with Donghyuck easy and compelling. It was a welcome respite, because he also managed to empty his head and stop thinking about Chenle for a short while.
Before he arrived at the airport, he expected to spend the entire plane journey dwelling on Chenle — his little chilli pepper, as he likes to affectionately call her in his head. She’s like a firecracker, red hot and bursting with life. It was why he had been uncontrollably drawn to her in the Chinese students’ society in university and never managed to fall in love with another girl.
And now, here he is — flying from Seoul to Tokyo in a foolhardy, stupidly foolish trip to chase after her like a lovesick puppy, Chenle who had flew to Japan without a second thought of him and only a short, breezy message saying goodbye, to pursue her dream of becoming a diplomat.
And Renjun has no doubt she will succeed. As the years pass, Chenle will only climb higher and higher up from the time they were equals as university mates (he was even a little more senior than her, being an upperclassman), getting further and further away from him in both distance and status. Renjun never thought he would be the kind of guy to fall for someone so hopelessly unattainable. But he just can’t forget Chenle.
He still dreams of the afternoon she kissed him, in the empty club room at university, after the rest of their fellow members had dismissed. Chenle asked him to stay back to help her with her treasurer duties, and when Renjun bent over to help calculate a sum on the calculator, she grabbed his collar and hauled him over the table, kissing him.
Needless to say, after that day, he was smitten and infatuated. She reluctantly agreed to go on a few dates with him, but then the spark sort of fizzled out and he heard of her being spotted with other guys. And then, after her last year of university, when he was only one year into the workforce and adult world, she texted him to say she was going to Japan.
When are you coming back? he sent back with shaking fingers, afraid to ask what was really in his mind. Will you be coming back?
I don’t know, Chenle replied vaguely. She said her course there would take at least a few years — and then, Renjun realised, there was no promise she would be making her home in Seoul. She could remain in Japan; or fly to China where he knew she had family and friends — she could settle down anywhere in the world, or jetset all over it while Renjun remained in his boring job in Seoul or flew heartbroken back to Jilin. The common memories they had shared and exchanged in those unforgettable club sessions, of having the communal experience of foreigners in a new, daunting country, would remain nothing but that — memories in the past.
So for the first time in his life, Renjun decided to be the kind of guy Chenle would be bowled over by. He would be fearless and adventurous, flying across cities and countries to sweep her off her feet, give her a romantic surprise. That’s what girls like… right?
If she wouldn’t come back to where he was… then he would go to her.
He booked his plane ticket on this impulsive whim, adrenaline and frustration licking through his veins. Now, he hears the final boarding announcement muffled through the walls and stares at himself in the spotless mirror of the empty restroom, wondering if he made the right choice.
Well, at least — if nothing else is to be gained on this trip — at least he met Donghyuck.
He’s one of the last few passengers to board the plane, and joins the tail end of the line. The girl at the check-in counter who had apologised so contritely about the delay almost two hours ago gives him another bright smile and apologises again. Flustered, Renjun waves her courtesies away and tells her he didn’t mind waiting.
It’s true.
Everyone in Economy is already settled into their seats, looking winded and half-asleep despite the plane not having taken off yet. Renjun double-checks his seat number and finds his way down the aisle.
He stifles a gasp when he sees the back of a strikingly familiar head and height, in the aisle seat of a row of two window seats. The window seat is empty, the only empty seat around. Renjun checks his ticket again, then moves closer to peek at the front view of the passenger, who has his headphones wrapped around his ears, and is listening to music on his phone before they take off.
He’s sitting beside Donghyuck.
“Renjun?” Donghyuck sits up straighter, pulling his headphones off his ears. He looks confused, a flash of something in his eyes Renjun feels stirring in the pit of his stomach, something not dissimilar to excitement.
“Why are you here?” Donghyuck leans towards him, voice low. “Can’t you find your seat?” Then, as if stricken, his eyes travel to the empty seat beside him and back to Renjun. “No way. It can’t be.”
“I’m your seat partner, again!” Renjun brandishes his ticket in front of Donghyuck’s face, trying to keep his voice down. It isn’t like him to be so excitable, but he can’t help feeling the sensation of pure joy that the stranger he had dreaded spending hours of uncomfortable and awkward proximity in is none other than his new friend Donghyuck.
He doesn’t feel so stupid and ditzy, though, because Donghyuck is grinning enormously for the first time since Renjun met him today, impossibly adorable eye-smile wreathing his face. Renjun feels heartened, his last vestiges of hesitance disappearing that Donghyuck obviously looks delighted to be sitting beside him too.
“I was wondering who my seat partner was, and why they were so late — thinking they must be a hard-to-please, rude sort,” Donghyuck whispers to him as soon as he settles in, after having gallantly stood up and helped Renjun stow his backpack into the overhead compartment. He didn’t notice before because either of them was sitting down when the other stood up, but Donghyuck towers over him slightly, his broad shoulders imposing. His voice is low and warm in Renjun’s ear, ticklish. Renjun feels breathless from the short trek to his seat. They’re sitting in even closer proximity now, the space between them not much more than the legroom, Donghyuck’s arm brushing his on the armrest. He smells musky, clean.
“And then I thought maybe no one was going to sit here and I could have the whole row to myself,” Donghyuck continues when he doesn’t reply, making his heart swoop. “But this is so much better.” Donghyuck’s blissful sigh and the slight catlike stretch he makes in their cramped shared air makes Renjun’s heart lighten weightlessly again.
“I’m glad you’re sitting beside me too,” Renjun replies, and watches Donghyuck’s face light up.
“This is seriously such an insane coincidence.” Donghyuck seems to be still shocked by the sheer luck they stumbled into. If they hadn’t met in the waiting area and only just now found each other, Renjun doesn’t know if he would feel as amiable towards Donghyuck as he does now. The flight is short, and most passengers would likely spend it sleeping and not striking up conversations with seat partners they would never be seeing again after a few hours.
“In Chinese, they call it yuanfen,” Renjun startles to hear himself saying. Then he blushes, because although Donghyuck looks adorably clueless and curious, the two words are actually used mostly to describe romance, sappy and cheesy in a way Renjun has never uttered to any person in his life, not even girls.
”Yuanfen?” Donghyuck pronounces thoughtfully, slightly halting. The Mandarin words are charming in his foreign accent. “It sounds pretty. Does it mean like… unmyeong?”
Then he’s the one reddening, realising himself. “No, I’m sorry —“ at the same time Renjun quickly clarifies, “No, my Korean isn’t perfect, but I think unmyeong is more like mingyun, which means destiny. Yuanfen means… fate. It means we have a good connection with each other, so our paths keep crossing.”
He tacks the last bit on at the end, although he usually doesn’t speak so much at one shot, suddenly aware of how different this topic is from the masculine, reserved monosyllables they have exchanged prior.
“Ah.” Donghyuck nods, seeming immensely interested. “I would like to learn Chinese. It sounds good when you speak it.”
Renjun feels his face warm again at Donghyuck’s compliment, as he’s always worried his Mandarin deteriorated from how little he uses it. “It’s a beautiful language,” he just says nervously.
The captain’s voice booms over the inflight intercom, thankfully breaking up their gauche conversation. They obey the instructions to fasten the seatbelt and stow away their electronic devices (Donghyuck checking his phone one last time, probably for news from his girlfriend) and Renjun focuses on the emergency video now playing on the miniature TV embedded in the headrest in front of him.
The overhead lights dim and then the plane is taxiing down the tarmac, the little pinpoints of neon, red and green lights he had seen from the airport windows now visible in clearer definition outside the small oval plane window, swiftly retreating back under them.
It’s dizzying, somehow — watching the airport and the runway shrinking smaller and smaller beneath them from Donghyuck’s side, as the altitude rises little by little.
“How’s the view?” Donghyuck asks, and Renjun leans back to let him share it — the mind-bogglingly tiny toy houses seeming so far away from them now, another world altogether, wisps of clouds occasionally drifting past their window despite the darkness.
“You’re not the kind that gets airsick, are you?” Donghyuck jests, and Renjun laughs, the pressure in his body from the ascend loosening.
“I don’t think so. But if I were… would you move to another seat?” He meets Donghyuck’s eyes, which are steady and dancing in quiet amusement, and something else — surprise from his question, maybe.
“I’d hold the paper bag for you while you puked your guts out,” Donghyuck vows softly, making Renjun snort and cover his mouth, eyes searching Donghyuck’s in disbelief. Donghyuck nods gravely, completely serious.
He feels bad, worried they’re disturbing the passengers around them — suddenly feels despite his adulthood that they’re like two adolescent kids, old friends reunited after a long time and bubbling over with banter and wisecracks. He wonders if Donghyuck will turn in, drawing the airplane blanket up around his shoulders and turn away from Renjun in a bit. He hopes not, feels awake instead of tired. He isn’t just glad to be sitting beside Donghyuck for the comfort, but also hoping for another transporting conversation.
As soon as the plane is stable, the seatbelts sign goes off and stewardesses start pushing trolleys down the aisle, offering hot towels and refreshments. Renjun can’t see the smile Donghyuck directs at the pretty flight stewardess who stops beside them, but it must be very charming because she looks dazzled. She beams at Renjun too, handing them packets of peanuts and hot towels and the wine Donghyuck requested plus Renjun’s orange juice.
“You shouldn’t be flirting with the stewardess,” Renjun whispers reproachfully in Donghyuck’s ear when she’s out of earshot, making him sputter and nearly spit out his mouthful of wine. “Aren’t you already attached?”
Donghyuck’s face is red, either from the near-choking or Renjun’s words when he turns around, wiping his mouth with a napkin. “I wasn’t flirting! Besides, she was too busy staring at you to notice me!”
Now it’s Renjun’s turn to flush, having always been uncomfortable with attention from female strangers. He feels even more discomfited at the fact that Donghyuck apparently noticed his looks and found him… appealing.
“Anyway, I wouldn’t call myself attached at this point of time, per se,” Donghyuck sighs, eyes faraway as he drains his wine and stows the cup in the cup holder on his opened table. He takes Renjun’s empty cup too and stacks it up inside his so Renjun can have more space and fold up his own table. “It’s a long story.”
Renjun looks at him curiously. He had just assumed Donghyuck was in a happy relationship when he mentioned his girlfriend, going to visit her for a loving reunion classic to long-distance relationships. But perhaps… their circumstances are more similar than either of them realised. He wonders what kind of expression Donghyuck would have on his expressive, calm face if Renjun were to tell him about his history with Chenle in greater detail.
“Well… I hope you manage to work things out with her,” Renjun says uncertainly, unsure if this is what Donghyuck wants. It must be, right? Since he’s flying all the way to Japan to meet and talk to her. This romantic, painstaking devotion of Donghyuck towards love strikes Renjun as improbable from his outward undemonstrative exterior, oddly endearing. It’s gratifying to know he’s not alone in being a man who would fly to another country to win the girl of his dreams over.
“Thanks, I guess,” Donghyuck says ambivalently. “Of course I hope everything works well for you too.” His tone trails off, eyes searching Renjun’s, prying into them for something Renjun doesn’t know. He quickly looks away, back out of the window, afraid his gaze reveals too much.
In the end, he turns out to be the one who falls asleep. He must have been more tired than he thought. He startles awake to the rattle of the trolley down the aisle again. Hears children’s voices a few rows ahead, excited, and gathers from craning his neck that they’re serving breakfast. It’s a less-than-three-hour flight, but the timing coincided with a mealtime and the airline must be feeling sorry to their passengers for the delay. Disoriented, Renjun wonders how long he has been out.
“Tired?” Donghyuck says next to him, making him jump a little and realise he has both their blankets slipping down his chest. Donghyuck must have seen him fall asleep and tucked his own blanket over Renjun, a gesture that Renjun for the life of him cannot picture the man he is looking at doing.
He clears his gravelly throat and fumbles to pick up Donghyuck’s blanket, wordlessly extending it. “This…?”
“Oh.” Donghyuck accepts it back, seeming not to think his gesture was anything out of the ordinary. “You’re not wearing a lot, so I thought you might feel cold.”
“What about you?” Renjun’s voice sounds coarse, and out of habit he touches his cheek to feel for stubble. There’s just the slightest sprinkling, not enough to be visible, but he’s worried Donghyuck can see it from so close up.
Donghyuck smiles sheepishly, gesturing to the hood of his sweatshirt he’s pulled up over his head, making him look younger than before. “I’m okay. My clothes are thick.”
Renjun licks his dry lips and settles back into his seat, hoping he didn’t look embarrassing when he was in slumber. Donghyuck is reading a book.
“Do you believe in fate?” Renjun asks, making Donghyuck look up at him with his eyes widened.
“Uh… not really.” Donghyuck seems confused at Renjun revisiting the topic they had awkwardly left earlier.
“Really?” Renjun raises an eyebrow, surprised. “Because the book you’re reading… isn’t it about that?”
“How did you know?” A smile has crept onto Donghyuck’s lips and he’s once again regarding Renjun appreciatively.
Renjun pretends to be offended. “Do I not look like a reader to you?”
“No, no,” Donghyuck says. “That’s not what I meant at all. Just… this book is pretty obscure. I didn’t expect to meet someone who has read it before on this flight… and that person to be you.” Their eyes lock again, and Renjun feels a frisson of something above his stomach.
“I just happened to stumble across it.” He shrugs. “So… you think fate is something that exists only in books?”
Donghyuck pauses to ponder Renjun’s question with touching seriousness. His profile is thoughtful, beautiful somehow in the hazy, shadowy plane light. He’s wearing a pair of glasses he put on to read and the overhead reading light flatters his soft, mildly tired features.
“Maybe,” Donghyuck says finally, looking at him again. “I want to believe in it, but I don’t think I can until I personally encounter it myself.”
“Me too,” Renjun murmurs, sinking back into the hard cushion of his seat. The stewardesses are approaching, and he gazes out of the window at the impenetrably mysterious black and waits.
Flying over the banks of clouds, into Japan, dining on breakfast leisurely with Donghyuck — Renjun has to say this is an utterly unlikely, irreplaceable experience.
Donghyuck is an impeccable gentleman, almost as if Renjun is a lady — offering him his orange juice, having noticed Renjun was drinking it a few hours ago, and anything from his tray Renjun might still want if he’s hungry.
“You eat a lot,” Donghyuck remarks, when Renjun helps himself to what Donghyuck can’t finish.
“You sound taken aback.” Renjun feels sheepish, bashful he appeared gluttonous. But Donghyuck smiles, his gentle, fond eyes somehow making Renjun feel that he looks cute.
“Nah, I just didn’t expect it because you’re so skinny.”
“Hey, watch it! I’m older than you, and probably stronger than you too,” Renjun retorts more huffily than intended because he’s a bit tired of people assuming he’s weak, though it's true he's usually a small eater.
“Really?” Donghyuck drawls out the word, grinning at him insufferably, the insolent gleam in his eyes suggesting he doesn’t believe it for a second. It’s maddening.
“I’m going to challenge you to an arm wrestling match once we get off this plane.” Renjun mock-glares at him.
“You’re on.” Donghyuck still has that ridiculously handsome shit-eating grin draped stupidly on his face.
-
The softly warm rays of morning sun filter through the glass walls of the airport as they walk out of Arrivals together. Everything around him feels like a beginning except the space between Renjun and the man pushing a trolley carrying both their luggages next to him. Just last night, they were no more than strangers. It feels surreal, dreamlike that in just a few hours, Donghyuck could feel more familiar to Renjun than possible, more familiar than he has any right to be.
At the same time, he feels like a stranger — tantalizingly so, like the feeling Renjun recalls at the start of his relationship with Chenle when he barely knew a thing about her yet and there was so much to discover, a whole new world.
It’s strange that Donghyuck reminds him of Chenle — because heaven knows they’re nothing alike — but Renjun assumes it’s simply because he will be seeing her soon and doesn’t pursue the line of thought.
Beside him, Donghyuck seems to be straggling behind, dragging his feet. Renjun is about to offer to help, realising the heavy load is probably wearing him out, when a stunningly attractive woman walks briskly up to them, her eyes soft, and proceeds to throw her arms around Donghyuck’s neck.
Donghyuck’s eyes meet Renjun’s from above her head, his neck being peppered in kisses, and Renjun looks away but not before catching Donghyuck flush.
“Oppa!” the girl exclaims, in a sweet voice. “I was so worried when I saw the flight was delayed, and I had to wait an extra hour, but luckily I met a new friend who accompanied me! She went to redo her makeup to wait for her boyfriend, but she’ll be here in a —“
“Renjun?” Renjun hears in an unmistakable voice and looks up to see Chenle walking slowly towards him, looking beautiful and confused. “How do you know Jisung’s…?”
At the same moment Jisung seems to realise that Donghyuck’s trolley has another person’s baggage on it. “Oppa, you didn’t come alone…?”
“We met while waiting for the plane,” Renjun hears Donghyuck’s voice saying behind him, only appreciating now that he isn’t looking at Donghyuck while listening how achingly deep it is. He knows that after these hours of listening, he’d be able to recognize it anywhere, anytime he came across it again. But… would he?
“That’s such a coincidence!” Chenle is saying with her usual brightness, kind of dazzling after Renjun just left the shadowy confines of the plane, jet-lagged. “Jisung and I met while waiting for the delay to be over as well. If not for her, I would’ve been bored to tears!” Chenle laughs gratefully.
He hears Donghyuck mumbling something behind him, but he continues facing Chenle and doesn’t turn to look at him again. He doesn’t know what kind of face Donghyuck is making, but he sounds equally shocked at the crazy string of fate that led the four of them to cross paths with each other’s partners. He wonders if Donghyuck believes, just a little more, in fate now.
“Well, then,” Renjun hears himself say heavily, finally turning back. He’s surprised to see Donghyuck not embracing or kissing Jisung from the silence that had fallen behind him, but watching Renjun warily. “We should probably get going,” Renjun says, not meeting his eyes.
“S-sure.” Donghyuck seems to be snapped out of his daze at Renjun’s cool words. “Let me just get that for you.” He reaches down to heave Renjun’s hefty luggage from the trolley, but Renjun forestalls him.
As their arms graze for the last time, Renjun feels the hair on his skin standing up with static. He remembers the wrestling match he had promised to challenge Donghyuck to when they got down; it looked like an empty promise after all. Renjun makes sure to show Donghyuck his strength doesn’t lose to his anyway, by picking up his suitcase with an effortless movement and setting it on the floor, not even straining. Donghyuck’s suitcase looks lonely, left solitary on his trolley. Its owner probably doesn’t feel so though, with such a breathtaking woman on his arm.
Chenle seems uncharacteristically fidgety, distracted, and quiet today, but Renjun doesn’t even notice till they’re walking away. He’s too busy trying to ignore the weight of Donghyuck’s silent gaze warm on his back, as if he expected Renjun to say a formal goodbye or hug him farewell or something. It’s not as if they’re friends — just because they bonded a little on the trip here, doesn’t mean that they can just start a friendship just because they want to. He has no idea how long Donghyuck will be staying, when or if he will be returning to Seoul.
This is how such things end — they’ll never see each other again.
Chenle is helping him wheel his bulky suitcase, seeing through his machismo in an instant, so when she halts abruptly mid-step Renjun is forced to stop too. Donghyuck and Jisung are only a few paces behind, and Renjun tugs urgently at the handle, wanting to get away as fast as he can, as far as he can run suddenly.
“Renjun,” Chenle says slowly, looking up into his eyes with gravity. “You're going to regret it if you never see that guy again.”
Renjun gasps at Chenle reading his mind, and not just in her head but out loud. It’s like his thoughts are transparent, like the words are tattooed across his forehead. Renjun swallows hard, pinning her eyes, stricken.
Chenle’s eyes soften, in that contrast that had captured his heart so many years ago. But Renjun’s mind is filled with thoughts of Donghyuck now.
“At least ask for his number,” she says quietly. “You can decide what to do with it later. Okay?”
“You’re crazy.” Air hitches in Renjun’s throat, the words tumbling out of his mouth. “He’s a man —“
“No, you look crazy!” Chenle overrides him firmly, raising her voice in a way Renjun is afraid Donghyuck can hear. “You should see the look on your face right now, Huang Renjun! Do you know the only time I’ve seen you look like this before? That afternoon back in university, after I kissed you in the club room —“ Chenle breaks off, looking pained and embarrassed at verbalizing her bold actions.
Renjun is stunned. He wants to place his hands on his face, dash to a mirror and find out exactly what kind of look Chenle is talking about. He was trying so hard to play it cool, but can it be obvious that he feels inexplicably… heartbroken?
He’s also reeling from the fact that apparently Chenle knows him better than he thought she did, that she has been observing him even when he thought she never paid attention. He’s overcome with a rush of feeling for her, less passionate but still strong.
“Lele — I flew here to tell you… I’ll always love you.” Renjun shocks himself with his words, words he never thought he’d have the bravery to speak in a lifetime. But that was before, when he was still in love with Chenle.
Chenle’s eyes brighten and shimmer with pretty tears, and her voice is rough when she replies, in Mandarin, “Me too, ge. But… you have to admit… it hasn’t been the same for some time. Time passes… and people change. Feelings change.”
Renjun knows what she means, Donghyuck’s face flashing into his head, dear.
“But… what if —“
“Look.” Chenle stops him with a single word, gently steering him to turn around. Renjun blinks to see Donghyuck and Jisung still standing in the same spot, never having moved, watching them leave. The expression Donghyuck has on his face is complicated, torn, desperate… and he’s looking only at Renjun, Jisung seemingly forgotten by his side.
Renjun’s breath catches in his throat, swiveling to look at Chenle, who is beaming encouragingly at him. She’s never looked so beautiful.
“Go,” she says, and tiptoes to press a chaste kiss on Renjun’s cheek.
Renjun has already shuffled back to face Donghyuck by then, and the dismay that enters Donghyuck’s eyes, the way the traces of warmth in his face falter, are enough to make Renjun take a reckless step forward, back in his direction.
Chenle is holding on to his suitcase for him, so Renjun feels slightly stupid as he approaches Donghyuck again slowly, foolishly. He’s abruptly hyperaware of the way he’s walking and Donghyuck’s eyes following his every move till he’s standing in front of him.
“Renjun?” Donghyuck’s voice comes out in a croak, his eyes saucer-like, instantly making Donghyuck blush hotly. Renjun wants to hug him — not farewell, but lovingly.
“Donghyuck, I —“ Renjun worries his backpack straps, anxious at not having anything to tighten his grip over.
“Can you give him your number?” Unbeknownst to him, Chenle has crept up behind and makes Renjun jump about a foot high with her loud question. He turns around to glare at her, mortified, but beside Donghyuck, Jisung sighs knowingly and speaks up for the first time.
“Boys.” Renjun catches their eyes meeting and communicating something wordlessly in that way girls do, but he’s too riveted by the hopeful look dawning on Donghyuck’s face, thrilled and disbelieving, as if a miracle has befallen him.
“O-of course,” Donghyuck stammers in his rush to reply, for the second time since Renjun met him. He holds out a hand for Renjun’s phone, a gesture reminscent of how they met — which the girls don’t know. Already, they have private inside jokes.
Renjun fishes out his phone, all thumbs, and nearly drops it this time when Chenle continues speaking beside him, in her confident, honey-sweet voice. “Speaking of numbers, could you give me yours too, Jisungie?”
Both men turn on their counterparts in confusion, not being aware they were already on a nickname basis after merely being acquainted for less than two hours. Renjun looks at Donghyuck as it dawns on him the only reason they met was that both Renjun and Donghyuck had forgotten to text them that their flight had been delayed, in the flurry of meeting each other.
Jisung looks shocked, a vulnerable expression on her face which she quickly recovers and breaks into a shaky smile. Renjun knows how she feels — the effect Chenle has on everybody, men and women.
“I would love to,” Donghyuck’s ex-girlfriend says softly, meeting Chenle’s eager gaze straight on with more frankness than either Renjun or Donghyuck have displayed.
“Lele, you —“ Renjun can’t finish his sentence, tearing his eyes away from Donghyuck’s piercing gaze for a millisecond to gape at his kinda-ex.
“Yes, Jun. I like girls too. In fact, I prefer them. Sorry I wasn’t that keen on you — but it was nothing personal, you know?” Chenle sounds patient, flippant as if she’s explaining a grocery list. Jisung is already staring at her with moony, worshipful eyes as if she hung the stars in the sky. Evidently she has no qualms about questioning her sexuality as well.
All Renjun can do is blink like a goldfish and nod lamely. “It’s all right,” he manages to say.
He feels a hand on his arm, a familiar touch, and loses his bearings all over. He looks down to see Donghyuck has taken his arm, just closed his hand over it gently, to get his attention, as if he was jealous to see Renjun talking to someone else, talking to his ex about their relationship. Renjun can’t help smiling. Donghyuck is so achingly lovable.
He still can't believe he's let another man -- let Donghyuck -- upset his equilibrium so much, but for all he tries Renjun can't bring himself to be mad at the gorgeous, younger man.
When he looks up shyly, Donghyuck has that easy smile on his face and relief in his eyes. That smile that says everything is going to be alright, and Renjun recalls the ending of the book about fate they had, fatefully, both read.
Maybe he’ll invite Donghyuck to the airport coffee shop to have a drink before they depart for the hotel, ask him if he wants to fly back to Seoul together, and sweetly request for him to read the last line of the book that Renjun still remembers clear as day in his mind.
And they all lived happily ever after.