She stepped out from the dark interior of the plane, squinting and blinking as she struggled to adjust her eyes to the harsh sunlight.  It must have rained, she thought, as she breathed in the earthy smell of the world as it is just after a storm. 

It was July 9^th, the day they had both waited for.  The day that they would finally meet again after a month of separation due to both of their busy schedules.  

Her eyes finally adjusted, and she searched the waiting crowds for his face.  Her edges of curved up slightly as she found his lean figure, his “cool” sunglasses, and his brown-black hair, topped with a gray-patterned-black wool-knit beanie.  The gray-patterned-blackwool-knit beanie she’d made for him last winter.

(It’s getting cold, Oppa, and since you always forget to dress warmly—she had paused as he raised a questioning eyebrow—Aish, Oppa; I didn’t mean it like that! I’m... just worried for your health so, well... I knitted you something.  She had blushed in spite of herself, and he grinned cheekily as he tugged on the beanie.

I’ll wear it all the time, he’d promised.)

“Jonghyun Oppa!” she called, and he smiled as he turned to find her eyes.  Because she wasn’t like those other girls and their flawless makeup and perfectly curled hair—she was simply herself, and that was why he loved her.

And suddenly she was running down the stairs in a blur, not caring if she tripped or fell or had to put up with Key’s nagging to walk, don’t run! for the rest of her life—because he was right here, right now—and it felt so good.

He grinned as she ran into his arms, wrapping his arms tightly around her.  “You’re back,” he whispered to the top of her head; and then, even more softly—“I missed you, yeobo.”

She smiled contentedly, snuggling closer into his arms. “Me too.”

I do recall now the smell of the rain
Fresh on the pavement; I ran off the plane
That July 9^th: the beat of your heart—
It jumps through your shirt; I can still feel your arms