Arrival Terminal | Hwiyoung & Ahri
For @mpahri
 never thought to tell anyone that heâd be going away - aside from putting in his leave at the hospital, heâd always assumed that no one would care anyway. That being said, his trip to New York ended up longer (and messier) than heâd expected. It was somewhat refreshing to step back into the shoes of being âCarter Kimâ though: accompanying Bree on her ridiculously extravagant grocery trips and taking her to their favourite restaurant over in East Village.
Being back in Mount Phoenix though, he was surprised at where his thoughts had immediately landed. He hadnât even stopped by at home yet but instead found himself at Ahriâs apartment, his luggage in tow and looking worse for wear with a bruised cheek and busted lip - only half healed since Breeâs fucker of an ex-husband decided to get into a fight with him the night before he left.
He knocked, wondering whether Ahri would have even noticed heâd been away.
It wasnât as if Ahri had been having a good week. The deadline for the quarter issue were already looming and she had yet to find a deity to feature at the cover. While most of the approachable deities would of course do, the writer & editor had decided to torture herself by wanting somebody a little bit more divisive. The thing about infamous gods, they were also notoriously hard to get a hold off. And most wanted nothing to with demigods. Add also it took her an inordinate amount of time to visibly prepare her mental faculties to even ask.
She was debating of maybe contacting Invidia, perhaps to sorta maybe get her inside Babylon, when the knock on the door startled her out of her reverie. Staring at the blank page of her tablet paper she gives a sigh and goes to fetch her wallet. That was probably the takeout she had ordered. It was easy to return to old habits when she didnât have anybody to share her meals with. Irelia had left for goodness how long and there was nobody raiding her fridge that most of her leftovers had spoiled. And with Hwiyoung also out of the island, she hadnât seen a point to actually go out.
As if she had summoned him, Ahriâs green eyes widened as she opened the door, and there he stood. It didnât seem possible that he had been gone that long, but the familiar height made her shrink back at how intense her heart seemed to thunder. That was until she noticed his appearance.
âOh.â She puffed out a quiet breath, gripping her wallet in her hands as if it would anchor her. âYouâre not my takeout.â She says unnecessarily, a bit nonplussed as to why he was here.
Of all responses that he has imagined, that had not been one of them. In one imaginary version of events, Ahri had uncharacteristically shouted profanities at him before kicking him right out again. In another, she had simply said hello as though sheâd never even realised that heâd been gown for all those weeks. The latter was what heâd actually expected, being accustomed to people forgetting all about him the moment that he wasnât there to grip onto them.
âI donât know what kind of takeout youâre ordering, Ahri, but I hope not,â he responded, a brow raised. He gestured at his luggage, the half torn âSeoul to New Yorkâ tag still hanging on the handle. âI just got back to the island,â he explained, as though it werenât that obvious, âAre you going to invite me in?â
He waited for her before entering her apartment again. All Hwiyoung really wanted was a shower, but he figured that she might have a few questions for him. His injuries looked a bit worse under the new lighting, his bruises darker and the cut on his lip more prominent. âAre you busy?â he asked, looking around and half expected Irelia to be hiding in a dark corner somewhere, âI can go if you want. Just⌠thought Iâd stop by.â
Ahri shuffled back to open the door further at his question, a wordless invitation for him to enter if he wanted. Though she really didnât expect him to show up out of the blue, and especially not when he just got back. What the hell did that mean?
âBusy?â She echoed as she closed the door behind him, as if half afraid he would change his mind and slide back out. She looked down at her attire, ratty t-shirt and comfy pajama bottoms, hair in a messy bun, eyeglasses perched on her nose. âNo, not particularly no.â She shakes her head and gestures for him to sit at the couch.
âYou lookâŚ.â She stammers, as if finally getting the courage to look Hwiyoung in the eye and almost regretting it right after. Ahri winced seeing the bruises on his face. âOh, you donât look all right.â She blurted before thinking about it, slapping a hand over her mouth just as the words left her. âI mean..! You donât look as good as your normall doâŚI meanâŚ!â
âWhat happened to you?â She ended lamely, feeling her cheeks flame.
Hwiyoung liked Ahri when she was dressed up - all pretty and tightly zipped, as though waiting to be torn up - and so he didnât expect the skip of his heart beat. Her hair was a ridiculous mess and those glasses definitely in the way of her eyes, but she looked so small and cozy in her pyjamas. It was unexpected to say the least.
He sat on the couch, a brow raised as he watched her struggle with her words again. Heâd looked in a mirror on the plane; he knew he looked like shit, but it was amusing to hear her try to be polite about it. He gave a slight scoff, pushing back his long hair. âSomeone tried to fight me,â he explained, but then added in a haste, âBut you should see what he looks like - dumb fuck wonât be throwing a fist any time soon.â
It was a lie though - it wasnât that Hwiyoung couldnât take him on, but that fighting back would have caused even more problems for Bree and he didnât want to give that man any more reason to bother his cousin. He sighed, leaning his head back on the couch. âCan I stay the night?â he asked, eyes fixed to her.

















