#20211104

While you try to read him, a loud “ding” echoes through the cabin, and the seatbelt sign illuminates. Before anyone can react, however, the plane lurches to the side, sending everyone flying the opposite way. With quick reflexes, Chan reaches over and grabs your shoulder before you can hit your head on the side panel.

“T-thank you,” you stutter with shock.

He draws back his arm. “You’re welcome. I’ll be back with that juice as soon as I can.”

You nod and he turns to leave, checking on the other passengers as he does so.

“Wow, he’s hot,” you hear the seat in front of you whisper as he passes by.

You watch Chan’s back until he disappears behind the curtains. Unarguably, he’s attractive. You wonder how he was in high school, but you know going through your memory is futile. All you did in high school was try to stay awake through all the coursework, tutoring, and etiquette lessons your parents put you through. You were ‘new money,’ but your parents were adamant you did not present yourself that way. You look at the signature on the bottom of the email you are working on. “L/N Y/N, Director.” It was worth it, you decide.

Chan delivers your juice as promised and moves on to the passenger in front of you. Despite a few hiccups in the plane’s flight, he maintains a steady stance.

“Good afternoon. May I interest you in one of our reds today? Or perhaps a chardonnay?”

“Hmm,” she ponders, “I’ll take a Domaine Leroy served with a plate of your number.”

Chan laughs politely, unflinched. “The cheese here is much better; trust me.”

You sniffle a laugh too and look up just in time to see Chan sliding his eyes to steal a glance at you. He quickly shoots you a smile before he goes to fulfill the request.

The plane keeps bumping along, but the turbulence is manageable enough for the staff to keep moving around. After a few more emails and approving some documents, you decide to take a quick nap. After all, you never know when clients from another time zone are going to wake you up in the middle of the night. You fasten your seatbelt, zip up your laptop, and…

… your eyelids close before you even know it. Just before you completely drift off to slumberland, you feel something tickling your chin. You don’t even bother with it and let your head roll off to the side.

Your eyes fly open as you suddenly feel weightless before being slammed back down onto your seat. Someone screams, and luggage crash together.

“This is your captain speaking. This is your captain speaking,” the overhead announcer broadcasts. “We are facing some dangerous weather right now that has compromised the aircraft, and will be forced to land as soon as possible at the nearest airport. We apologize for the inconvenience. Please fasten your seatbelts and remain calm. Press the attendant button only in case of an emergency.”

Confused and frightened murmurs come from all around. You look down to check on your belongings and find a blanket tucked under your chin. That’s odd. You don’t recall pulling out your blanket, but there isn’t much time to think about that right now. You pack everything back into your carry-on and swallow a knot as another lurch of the plane sends your heart racing. Are you going to die here? If you died, what would become of your parents? It’s not like they have another heir, and all these years they spent cultivating you would go down the drain. And your clients. The business will definitely take a hit if its director passes so unexpectedly. Fear grips your stomach as you grip your armrest.

Suddenly, there’s a hand on yours.

“You alright?” It’s Chan. You had seen him earlier calming down a passenger who was furious about the delay.

“Yes, just a bit startled,” you reply, controlling your breathing.

He nods. “Push the attendant button if you need anything. I’ll keep an eye out for your call light.”

You thank him, and he returns to his jump seat just as the plane lurches violently again.

The landing takes over an hour, but at last, you finally feel the security of the ground. Still then, your heart races as the boarding bridge echoes demonically with every clap of thunder and every pelt of rain.

It doesn’t seem like the weather will let up anytime soon, so with a sigh, you find the nearest seat and pull out your computer. Turns out, the nearest seat is at a bar, and almost too cinematically, a man approaches you as soon as you sit down.

“All alone, pretty thing?” he asks.

At least he is no son of anyone important, you note. There is no need for you to entertain him.

“I prefer to stay that way,” you respond curtly.

He snorts. “Cheeky. A business woman, aren’t you?” he observes, looking you up and down. “You know how to hold your own in a man’s world.”

You sigh. “Please just leave. I would prefer it if things did not get complicated.”

“Oh?” He reaches a hand towards you. “Complicated how?”

You grab your belongings and duck under his arm and begin walking away, but he has the audacity to grab you by your collar. You whip around, fire in your eyes, and are about to give you what he has coming until someone beats you to it.

The tug on your shirt suddenly disappears, and a figure appears between you and the man. The newcomer has the predator’s arms raised above his head.

Chan turns his head back to you. “You alright?”

You nod, too dumbfounded to say anything.

“Who are you?” the stranger bellows. 

“A staff of this airport, and I will not have you causing a disturbance to our patrons.”

“You!” he grunts as he tries to bring down his arms, but Chan holds them still with just one hand. After several attempts, Chan finally lowers them for him slowly with a dangerous smile on his face. 

“Now, off you go,” Chan says, giving him a slight shove out of the bar.

The man curses at the two of you but ultimately leaves.

“Thank you,” you say to your former classmate.

“It was nothing,” he insists.

“Still, let me buy you a drink,” you offer. “Oh! Are you allowed to drink on the clock?”

“We don’t know when we can be in the air again, so I better not,” he agrees. “But, there are a few secret drinks at this bar that won’t hurt.”

“Secret?”

He winks at you then turns to the bartender. “Hey, Sana!” 

The server looks his way, and he tugs on his tie twice before holding up two fingers.

“I have a lot of layovers here,” he explains. “This bar has some of the best mocktails.”

“Good thing I ran into you then.”

“Same here. Really.” The same unreadable look from earlier passes his face. “Say, how’s life been since high school? Looks like you’ve been doing well for yourself.”

“Just trying to keep my father’s company alive,” you reply. “I’m actually on my way to meet a client right now.”

“Oh! Look at you, being successful. How about a boyfriend? Kids?” he says jokingly, lightly nudging you with his shoulder.

The bartender places a cup of something light brown in front of you which you stir distractedly. “Probably a fiancé soon.”

“Oh.” You barely catch the difference in his tone between this “oh” and the last. “Who’s the lucky guy?”

“I don’t know. Someone Mother will find, I guess.”

His face contorts into a pained frown. “I’m sorry,” he says.

“What about you?” you divert the topic. “How is traveling around the world?”

“It’s the dream,” he answers, relaxing his posture. “I didn’t do so well in high school unlike you, so I’m super grateful I found my calling among the birds.”

You can’t help but laugh. “What do you mean, ‘unlike me?’”

“Didn’t you rank first in your class? Even against Chohun who had like four tutors?”

“You really have good memory, Chan. How do you remember even the junior class rankings?”

“Well, you just stood out because of calc and your apple juice,” he lies. “Besides, Chohun would not stop talking about his tutors and his academic achievements. It was a great day when test results came out and you came out on top.”

“I was just lucky,” you wave your hand. “I think he had a cold or something during midterms.”

“You’ve always been so humble,” he murmurs quietly.

You aren’t sure you heard him correctly. “Sorry?”

He smiles. “Try the drink! It’s good; I promise.”

You do as told, bringing the straw between your lips, and light up as soon as the flavors hit your tongue. “It’s good!” you exclaim.

He looks pleased by your reaction. “It’s honey hibiscus iced tea. I thought it would suit your sweet tooth.”

“It does,” you assure him. “A bit of sweetness is just what I needed in the middle of this storm.” Turning to the gloomy window, you ask. “Do you think we will be able to fly tonight?” 

“I’m not sure,” he admits. “I’ve heard of only one forced landing before, and it wasn’t nearly as bad as this. Thinking about what you might do if we stay the night is probably smart.”

“My assistant already booked me a suite. I’d rather not have to use it though.”

“You rich people,” he chuckles. The ice in his cup clinks against the glass.

“Everyone’s doing it. She said she barely got me a room.”

“I think a lot of planes stopped here. I don’t think there’s nearly enough rooms for every family.”

“What about you? Do they have something planned for the staff?” you inquire.

He shrugs. “My seniors said last time they—”

He pauses as his phone chimes with a notification. “It looks like they’re not planning to take off any time soon,” he announces. “They’re asking us to help hand out blankets.”

“Ah, alright. I’ll see you hopefully tomorrow then?”

“Yeah. Stay safe, Y/N.”

You nod, and he grabs his coat and stands. Before he goes far though, he turns back around and scribbles something on a napkin and hands it to you. “Call me if you need anything, okay?”

“I’ll be fine, but thanks.” You take the napkin and offer him a smile which he returns. 

You pull out your computer once more after he leaves and turn it on. Stoney documents load up on the screen for you to look over, and a part of you begins to miss the presence of a certain someone who was just beside you moments before. You shake your head to clear it of that thought. Now isn’t the time for things like that; not when the company is still not yet where your father wants it to be. You refocus your eyes on those still Times New Roman letters and begin to read.

You stay a little longer at the bar, finishing your drink and a proposal before deciding to head up to your room. As you walk through the terminal, a series of coughs draw you attention. In a corner, you see a group of elderly women huddled together with their measly blankets wrapped around themselves, trying to sleep while rubbing their aching bones. 

You turn your eyes back on your path to continue walking, but your feet won’t budge. With a sigh, you relent and make your way over to the group of seniors.

It’s cold. It’s undeniably cold. You suspect the power went out too, and the airport is keeping their backup generator just for lights just in case this storm lasts longer than expected. 

You shiver uselessly, watching the snow pile and pile outside and trying not to jump as the occasional traffic cone gets slammed against the window. At least, you hope, those grandmothers are warm and comfortable under their duvets. 

“Y/N?”

You sit up from the floor and turn towards the whisper and are not surprised to see Chan standing there. He looks tired. A folded blanket hangs from his arm.

Once he’s confirmed it’s you, he makes his way over. “What are you doing here? Aren’t you supposed to be in the hotel?”

“Some elderly needed it more,” you reply.

He gives you another one of his unreadable expressions. “Care if I join you then?” he asks and begins laying down his sheet.

“Don’t you have a place for staff to stay?”

“We do,” he confirms, “but I’m not letting you suffer here alone.”

“I’m not suffering,” you chuckle at his choice of words. “Besides, it doesn’t make sense for two people to suffer if one of them doesn’t have to.”

He flops down and pulls his blanket over his shoulder. “It’s warmer with two people anyway.”

You digress and lay back down next to him.

“I’m not making you uncomfortable though, am I?” he whispers.

You shake your head. “You’re right. It is much warmer with you here. Thank you.”

The two of you close your eyes as the weather outside rumbles. Despite the addition of Chan, it still is dreadfully cold. Your eyelids droop and droop, but your body shakes and shakes.

“Y/N.” 

You hear your name, but you can barely react. You make a small noise, and you feel Chan grabbing your hand.

“You’re so cold still,” he sighs. 

He lays his blanket on top of yours, and by then, you’re finally able to wake up just enough to reach out and tug his sleeve.

“You’ll be cold too,” you mumble.

“It’s okay,” he insists, adjusting the covers on you.

You shake your head and open up your arms, inviting him in.

“A-are you sure?” he stutters.

You nod, half asleep. Tenderly, he slips under the blankets and brings his arms around you. Almost immediately, you feel much better. Not only are you warmer, you feel something fuzzy filling your chest. It’s an unfamiliar sensation, one so different from the icy coldness that creeps up your spine when you’re with your father. The fuzz is so alien, so baffling, to you, that you can’t even put a name on it. Still, you can’t stop the smile that spreads over your lips.

A soft chime of your phone wakes you up, and you already know who it is from. You’ve been expecting this client to contact you right about now. 

You sit up and pull out your laptop, the cold of the metal burning your skin. You prop your back up against the wall and turn on the device. 5:47, your screen reads.

You type away at your keyboard for nearly fifteen minutes before some shuffling draws your attention to the sleeping form in front of you. Chan slowly opens his eyes and looks around until they land on you.

“Sorry. Did I wake you up?” 

“What are you doing awake?”

You don’t think he processed what you said. “Just some work. I’ll go somewhere else if my keyboard’s too loud.”

He shakes his head and scoots his butt towards the wall. He grabs a corner of the two blankets with each hand and wraps it around the two of your shoulders, filling you with warmth once again. 

“You’ll be cold like that,” he murmurs and drops his head back, sound asleep.

Again, you’re filled with that indescribable feeling. This time, it is even more intense now that you’re awake and fully aware of it. You don’t know what to make of it, or why you’re taking his head and resting it on your shoulder, but you wish you could feel like this forever.

.

.

.

It was all but a feverish dream. At least, that’s what it feels like as you stand at your door steps, six months after that flight. It’s drizzling slightly, and you are cold in your burgundy cocktail dress. So cold.

“It was a pleasure seeing you again tonight, Y/N.”

You smile politely at the man in front of you. Seo Changbin, heir of SEO Entertainment. He is nice enough. Among all your suitors, you dreaded going to dinner with him the least.

“The pleasure is always mine, Changbin,” you reply. “Have a good night.”

“Wait,” he calls as you turn towards the door. “Before we part, I have something for you.”

You watch as he pulls out a box from his coat. It’s a necklace, you realize. 

You lift up your hair for him as he puts it on for you. The pendant is hard and icy against your skin. You look down at it. From the way it shimmers under your porch light, you can tell he’s gotten you only the finest on the market.

“It’s beautiful, Changbin. Thank you.”

He smiles bashfully and scratches the back of his head. He is nice enough, you decide. If you had to marry someone, you’d prefer it be him. 

“May I ask for one more thing?” 

“Of course,” he says eagerly.

You hold your hands out. “A hug.”

“A-a hug?” he blushes.

You begin to draw your arms back. “I’m sorry. That’s imprudent, isn’t it?”

“Not at all!” he disagrees quickly and takes you up in his arms.

You let your head fall on his chest and your eyes to close, waiting for that fuzzy feeling from six months ago to come back, but it never does. You squeeze your arms, holding him closer, but still, nothing.

Finally, you pull back, hiding the disappointment on your face. Changbin’s a grinning mess. 

“Good night,” you bid him and turn for the door.

“Good night,” he echos.

The doors close behind you, and you rest your back against it, staring into your vast, dark house. The feeling of emptiness bites at your soul, and something foreign and wet slides down your cheek. You want to run. You want to escape from whatever this emotion is. But how? And where would you run to?

No, not where. Who.

Unconsciously, you reach a hand into your purse for a napkin. You pull one out and feel your throat getting tighter as you realize it isn’t the particular napkin you are looking for. You pull out another and another and another, littering your stone marble floor with tissues until you find exactly what you are looking for. What was once written on that napkin has been reduced to nothing but a smear by now, but no matter. You have memorized the number on it a long time ago.

Hastily, you punch the digits into your phone, but your thumb freezes over the green call button. You wonder how many times you’ve done this already. Changbin would be so hurt if you pressed it. Your father would be so disappointed. The business would crumble to the ground. How can you be so selfish as to do something like that? How dare you be something short of the perfect heir? No. You can’t. You can’t, you won’t, you can’t, you won’t.

Suddenly, a clap of thunder makes you jump. It startles you, but not as much as the dialing tone you hear after your surprise. Your heart races uncontrollably as you stare at your device, not knowing what to do. It rings once. Twice. And then— 

“Hello?”