Incheon
Seokjin was hopping on three different planes in one week to meet with two of their biggest clients, his biological clock was all out of wack, and he had gotten maybe 10 hours for 4 days.
He couldn't sleep on planes, so the best choice was to crash now while they hadn’t take off. He put on his most charming smiles, waved down one of the attendants, and nicely asked them to wake him up when they could start boarding.
A man with eye-catching bleached silver hair passed by him while staring, probably annoyed by the display of favouritism by the staff, or just from a lack of sleep like Seokjin.
He didn't care, and went to get his precious one hour of sleep before suffering the cramped seat and six hours of baby crying (there was a woman holding a little toddler who went in before him, just his luck)
---
Seokjin saw him again in Milan, right after Fashion Week. He was there to scout for fashion lines who could be interested to collaborate with Jungkook, his new employer who had a start-up accessories line. Jungkook was promising as a designer, but he was rough around the edges and merciless when it came to criticism, so it was hard to find someone to match him. A week ago, Seokjin found an Italian design house, well versed in the world of fashion and used to dealing with temperamental artists. Seokjin was hoping this was Jungkook’s big break, so ten years down the road he could say he had contributed to Jungkook’s rise as a designer.
For now, he could possibly gain a grateful friend, and five digits in commission, in euros.
The man was better dressed this time, gray jacket suit unbuttoned, stripped shirt and skinned jeans.
Their eyes didn’t meet once, but Seokjin stole glances at him.
The jeans was really nice. The shirt hugged him just right. Seokjin knew that suit jacket – it costed a lot.
He was headed to Korea, while Seokjin still had the US to conquer before he could be home.
---
Paris was a whirlwind; a flurry of activities organized by a client who had Seokjin's office close a multi-million deal and were treating them to a trip on his luxurious yacht. Seokjin had never drank that much in his career, and he had been working sales since he was twenty two and couldn’t fill out the shoulder of his jacket. His head was pounding, and his eyes were suffering under the sunglasses.
Seokjin crashed hard after he was done with the paperwork and inside his gates. He sprawled out on one of the couches in the business lounge, never realising the familiar man who vacated the couch right before Seokjin lied down.
---
Hong Kong was horrible, fucking horrible. He was flying off as another associate from his company attended to the new partner, perhaps their biggest in the East Asia region. All because a mugger decided that Seokjin was an easy target and took everything, including his passport, his laptop and a bunch of important documents. Admittedly he was an easy target, Seokjin cursed himself for that, but the mugger could have chosen someone else. Fuck him and fuck Hong Kong, he preferred Taiwan anyway.
He slumped, and his eyes caught a pair of familiar shoes. Silver Hair passed him by, did not seem to notice, and he had the luxury of entering Hong Kong.
Seokjin sighed to himself, wondering who he was, what his job was and how insane must his job be to travel as much as Seokjin.
It was food for thought, as Seokjin tried to think about the commission diverting from his bank account to another's.
---
They shared a gate for the first time in Chicago, Silver Hair heading to Shanghai, Seokjin going back to Korea
Silver Hair was three seats away, and Seokjin’s lips kept quirking up, the urge to start conversation so strong.
They kept seeing each other, like fate pulling string to twine them together, and Seokjin might work in services but he was an artist once and the romantic in him was begging to be heard.
"Take a photo, it will last longer. I won't even charge you."
Seokjin blushed, and the man laughed, a delightful sound.
“I’m Seokjin.”
“Namjoon.”
---
Namjoon. 26. High fashion model.
Seokjin only had an email address and a half dozen of correspondences in his mailbox. Namjin moved around a lot too, so any other kind of communication was shot to death. It felt a little special, like they were in the electronic dark age and was writing letters to each other. It felt almost too good to be true, but Seokjin woke up half-way across the world in Boston once, and Namjoon had sent him a Dropbox link full of his newest pictorials and Seokjin thought to himself.
I'm a little in love.
---
They didn’t see each other until Seokjin had had five more trips - it was Singapore this time. Namjoon bought him a stuffed Koala from Australia. Seokjin blushed at the implications – could Namjoon be carrying the thing with him on trips, until he could see Seokjin again, an occurrence that might not occur at all.
---
They had the same destinations for the first time, and it was Japan. Seokjin held the hem of Namjoon’s shirts as he used his Japanese to bring them out of the airport and hailed a cab for Seokjin.
Namjoon shoved a hotel’s name card into his hand, but Seokjin had the biggest contract of his career on the line, so he left for Korea from Haneda again without seeing Namjoon.
It wasn't a rejection, he told himself.
---
In Melbourne, Namjoon passed in front of Seokjin without looking. Seokjin's last email went unanswered, but Seokjin had taken to detailing his schedule in his email ever since Tokyo. Namjoon must have seen, and if he was flying from Melbourne today he should be looking for Seokjin.
Seokjin stood up, but Namjoon had already entered a gate right next to his.
This too, wasn't a rejection, he told himself.
---
LA was Seokjin's least favourite among the numerous states of the US. For once, it was always too hot and too stuffy for his liking. Secondly, LAX was hell on Earth.
"How long are you in Toronto for?" - Namjoon dropped onto the seat next to him and Seokjin startled, almost dropped his briefcase.
He looked at Namjoon, wide eyed. He still looked as good as he did, model-like, his silver hair now more towards blonde and slicked back, sunglasses perched precociously just above his hair line. Namjoon quirked an eyebrow at Seokjin's staring, and Seokjin blushed.
"Two weeks. Go in, meet the client, meetings until the results are satisfactory, a tour of the production houses then back to Seoul."
Namjoon hummed, before lowering his sunglasses and turning away from Seokjin.
"I know I have said it before, but I wanted to say it in person. I'm sorry about Tokyo."
"I know."
Namjoon didn't seem to want to elaborate, so Seokjin had no choice but to settle down. His fingers curled onto themselves, itching to reach out to Namjoon.
But they were confined to airports, and Seokjin had messed up a chance to extend them beyond immigration and tax-free shops and concrete runways.
---
Namjoon resumed e-mailing Seokjin and he felt like a boulder was lifted off his shoulder. He smiled through negotiations with a terribly demanding CFO, talked the CEO into a favourable deal, beat legal into submission so they could deliver the contracts to him faster and Seokjin was done in ten days instead of the intended two weeks. All because...
["If you're so busy, would you have the time for people in your life?"
"I make the time."
"Then make some in Toronto."]
It was gray, rainy and cold. The first day, he almost went insane, pacing around.
Then Namjoon called his hotel room's telephone at 11pm.
"I'm guessing it's my fault this time. It's a high fashion magazine's cover page in Paris."
They fell into a silence. The connection was slipping through Seokjin's fingers like sand, but Seokjin didn't want to let go, not yet, and it had never felt as right as it did, even though they might never see each other outside.
"We'll see each other again." - Seokjin said.
Perhaps it was something in the tone of his voice, or perhaps because of Seokjin's pure optimism, Namjoon laughed. It sounded right to Seokjin's ears.
"Of course."
---
They fell in love in Incheon.
Namjoon was heading for Milan, while Seokjin had entirely new territory to conquer - Copenhagen. Their boarding time was two hours apart, so Seokjin dragged his ass out of the house at five am to have breakfast with Namjoon at the airport coffee shop.
The seats were cramped, like every place at the airport was. The coffee wasn't that good either, but the bagel was warm and Namjoon's eyes were even warmer, not hidden by stylist sunglasses or tiredness. His dimples were the cutest things Seokjin had seen this year, and he was surprisingly smart for a model. Seokjin shared a few literature favourite, and they debated until Namjoon almost missed his gate closing time.
He pressed a hurried kiss to the corner of Seokjin's lips. His coat flew behind him as he rushed for his flight, and Seokjin yelled after him.
See you, Namjoon.