ʙᴇᴛᴡᴇᴇɴ ᴜs

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ At The Airport

Jimin

Ten years ago, I was on my first bachelor trip to Switzerland. I had saved myself some money and I wanted to spend it all. If my father heard about how I was going to make use of the money after managing to make my friends agree to take the trip with me, he would have been more disappointed in me for my money management skills than happy for me. I was contrarily and considerably proud of myself.

Unlike my other friends, I didn't have financial responsibility toward my home and I wasn't to be blamed for it. I had certain ways about life that I'd known quite early on. My parents weren't accepting of it. It only ended with me seven hundred miles away from home after I finished school and went to live in a hostel when I got into university.

Two years on the job and I already had saved enough. I didn't have to think about my future home, a family car, or even spending a lot on my wedding. It was clear to me that I never wanted to get married, and with that motivation, I started living my life the way I wanted. Traveling the world was one of the things that was always on my bucket list. 

Last year, I visited Bangladesh after watching Chris Hemsworth's movie. It was an eye-opener to see a different culture and try local food. 

The airports, in general, pumped my serotonin.

I was thinking of the first step I took in the journey of my world tour and my smile wasn't fading until I saw him — a boy with a cute face and a smoking body.

He was looking too innocent and a bit scared.

I stared at him coming in my direction, his eyes round as they looked around, searching for something. My heart was thumping in my neck when he got too close, but then he turned to one of my friends.

I could hear his indistinct soft voice and see his white and blue striped, long-sleeved t-shirt. The moment of realization that I needed to talk to him anyhow had my feet moving and I pushed my friend away. He gulped as his face lifted at me. "Could you please help me with the directions to the lounge? I can't find it."

"Traveling for the first time?" I asked, extending my hand so he naturally put his documents in it. I didn't know why I did that, and I also didn't know why he gave me his boarding pass. It was such a naive action and had protective instincts in me kicking. 

"Yes," his hands when free, grabbed onto the straps of his backpack. My eyes lifted again from the boarding pass after reading his name and flight details. The colorful headphones were around his neck and his bangs of raven hair had fallen on his forehead. "I am going home."

"Do you live in Busan?" I asked.

He nodded at my Satoori, suddenly picking up. "Do you, too?" He smiled a little.

"Yeah," I nodded, now taking a walk so my friends couldn't hear us. He walked with me. "I have some time until my flight arrives. Let me join you there."

"Oh," he touched his ear, scratching it and turning it red. He was that perfect person who smelled divine, looked as fresh as any newborn, and spoke too politely. I could tell he was into boys, too. His nervousness around me and how he avoided eye contact made it sure. 

"I am Park Jimin," I spoke, not wanting to make the silence too long and awkward. 

"Jeon Jungkook."

"What do you do, Jungkook?" I inquired when we were passing by the phone cases store. I watched how his eyes were engaged in the superheroes section. He didn't say anything. I then came to the fruition that his backpack was red with a big Ironman on it.