43 | Launched Myself At the Door

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Even when the plane's wheels touched the tarmac, my impatience refused to ebb

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Even when the plane's wheels touched the tarmac, my impatience refused to ebb. I reminded myself that Jungkook was surely less than a mile distant now and it wouldn't be many minutes more before I could see his face again. But that only made the urge stronger to rip the emergency door off its hinges and sprint to the building rather than wait through the interminable taxiing. Namjoon could feel my agitation in my absolute stillness, and he nudged my elbow lightly to remind me to move.

Though our row's window shade was down, there was an excess of direct sunlight in the plane. My arms were folded so that my hands were hidden, and I'd let the hood of my airport-shop hoodie fall forward to keep my face in shadow. We probably looked ridiculous to the other passengers especially Hoseok, bulging out of a sweatshirt that was several sizes too small- or as though we thought we were some kind of celebrities hiding behind our hoods and dark glasses. More probably northern bumpkins who had no frame of reference for spring temperatures in the Southwest. I caught one man thinking that we'd all remove the sweatshirts before we made it down the length of the jetway.

 I caught one man thinking that we'd all remove the sweatshirts before we made it down the length of the jetway

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The plane in the air had felt unbearably slow; this taxiing might kill me. Just a little more restraint, I promised myself. He'd be there at the end of this. I'd take him away from here, and we'd hide together while we figured this out. The thought soothed me a tiny amount.

In reality, it took very little time for the plane to find its assigned gate, open and ready. There were a million possible delays that hadn't gotten in our way. I should have been grateful. We were even fortunate enough to end up at a gate on the north side of the airport, tucked into the late-morning shadow of the larger terminal. That would make it easier for us to move fast.

Namjoon's fingers rested lightly on my elbow while the crew took its time going through checks.

Outside the plane, I could hear the mechanical Jetway maneuvering into place, and the knock against the hull when that was achieved. The crew ignored the sound, the two forward-cabin stewards staring together at a passenger list.

He nudged me again, and I pretended to breathe.

Finally, the steward approached the door and worked to heave it out of the way. I desperately wanted to help him, but Namjoon's fingertips on my arm kept me focused.

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