𝟏𝟗𝐓𝐇 𝐅𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐑 𝐕𝐈𝐄𝐖
summary: you’re not a believer in airport crushes. you think the theory that people look better when you’re bound to never see them again is delusional. that is, until fushiguro megumi comes and proves you wrong.
tags: 1.1k wc | f!reader | narration heavy | open ending | nobara and yuuji are the best wing men | strangers to potential lovers | very romanticized | megumi has green eyes here, as stated in the manga | for plot's sake, pretend it isn't weird to call him 'gumi' right off the bat
notes: megumi finally debuts on saekkas (clap clap). also, this may or may not be inspired by real life events hehe
early mornings have never been your forte. the wind bites your cheeks, prickling your skin with goosebumps that range all the way from your arms down to your legs. even the hoodie you’re wearing– the thickest, comfiest one you own, doesn’t help shield you from the elements.
it doesn't help that the air conditioner is on full blast.
“i swear to god,” you mumble, expression souring as strong winds crash against the airport’s ceiling high windows. in the distance, trees sway around erratically, crashing against each other as the sky turns a bleak gray. “if a hurricane comes, at least let it hit after my flight takes off.”
the line to check in is unnaturally long and it takes almost half an hour until you’re seated at the gate, an hour early before your flight departs. better safe than sorry, your mother always said.
the seating area is nothing but crowded, and as pregnant mother tries to calm her baby’s wails by swaddling him in blankets, you curse yourself for booking economy. a private longue with wifi and food sounds good right now.
tucking yourself into the furthest seat from the wailing baby, you breath out a sigh. your legs have been killing you for the past hour and you have no one to blame but yourself for not choosing more comfortable shoes.
there’s minimal noise in the area, being that it is far more secluded from the others. the only sounds you can hear are of footsteps and bickering from the trio sitting right across from you. one of the boys, the one with pink hair and a red hood over his head, is in what looks to be the deadliest game of rock-paper-scissors you’ve ever seen with a girl that has short brown hair.
your eyes flicker towards the last of the bunch– a boy who looks like he’s around your age with an unruly mess of hair on top of his head. he’s calm, minding his own business with a book in his lap, and legs crossed elegantly. the sweater he wears is black, oversized, and the fabric looks to be so soft.
you’re not a believer in airport crushes. you think the theory that people look better when you’re bound to never see them again is delusional.
you might just eat your own words because he’s actually cute.
you don’t know how many times your eyes have gravitated towards him in the past hour, but you know it’s probably enough to tip his friends off. from the corner of your eye, you see the girl nudge him repeatedly before very obviously pointing your way.
at first, he ignores her– goes back to reading his book like she’s a fly buzzing around his head. he’s probably used to it, you muse to yourself, chuckling in your head.
and then you feel it. the pinpricks of his stare. so pointed and sharp now that it’s directed at you.
the notes app is your only friend as you type against the screen of your phone. you feel stupid– like a schoolgirl who’s just been noticed by her crush, trying to seem busy as if you haven’t been staring at him for god knows how long.
when he looks away from your general direction, you lift your head– trying to get a glimpse of his side profile for, what you promise yourself to be, the last time.
only to meet his gaze straight on.
you hear his friends snicker, nudge their elbows against him as you look to the side, too embarrassed to even think of looking in his direction again. you hear his voice, low and smooth as he snaps, trying to make them stop. they only tease him more.
you hear the name megumi, picture the shy smile that spread on his lips before stiffening, quickly getting up from your seat when the intercom calls your flight number.
the staff are quick to usher the crowds of people into a neat line, herding passengers to their respective gates. your feet move on autopilot, making your way towards the double doors that lead to your plane.
you only stop when someone calls your name, waving frantically as they push through the people to get to you.
megumi stands in front of you, hair even more tousled than before. there’s a bead of sweat on his forehead that slides down the side of his neck and into his sweater. his eyes are green, reminding you of the forest, a piece of jade, and the color of your passport holder in his hand.
“you forgot this.” he holds the official document against his chest before handing it over to you. his fingers brush against yours, delicate and neatly trimmed, before they clench into a fist by his side. “you left it on your seat.”
“right,” you mumble, the sound wispy as if your own breath had been sucked out from your lungs. you bow your head in gratitude while simultaneously trying to shake away the daze clouding your thoughts. “thank you. i owe you one.”
the silence that stretches after is nothing if not awkward. you’re looking anywhere but him, and he’s doing the same. the staff guarding the gate watch– clearly gossiping about your little interaction with the male in front of you.
after a while, megumi nods once before turning back towards his seat, a muffled safe flight leaving his lips.
that's it?
you watch as he strides away, some parts confused and disappointed. his friends wear the same expression as you do, the girl practically screeching into his ear while the boy tries to push him back towards your direction.
megumi doesn’t budge, stone faced as he sits in between them. returning to his book as if nothing significant has happened.
maybe some things just aren’t meant to be.
you send the duo a wave, smiling when they do the same, before showing the staff your ticket and passport, heading straight down the gate, and boarding the plane.
you won't see him again anyway.
it’s only when you’re seated on a train, a thousand miles away from where you were, gazing out of the window as it speeds across Tokyo that you finally see a note slipped into your passport, one containing his full name and number.
i think you’re pretty. my friends think you’re cool. would you like to get dinner some time? – megumi fushiguro.
your pointer finger traces his handwriting, neat and cursive, and you let out a giggle because for whatever reason, it feels exactly like him.
to: cute sea urchin
[13:57] hey. it's the girl from the airport.
[13:58] is sushi okay? it's my treat! i owe you one after all.
from: cute sea urchin
[14:23] yeah, anything's fine with me. see you.
to: cute sea urchin
[14:37] cool! can't wait to see you again, gumi!
526 notes
·
View notes